"Bobby!" Lizzy shouts loudly as she scrambles out of the Impala's passenger side when she sees him opening the side kitchen door of his house. She rushes to him and of course barrels right into him, her arms around his neck.

"Jesus," he complains with a misgiving smile on his face as he stumbles just slightly. "Take it easy. I'm old these days."

"I fucking missed you so much!" she says, feeling a sense of calm and ease wash over her. It feels like when she came home for Christmas after her first semester at college. She was back, in her safe place, with her parents. That same sense is finding her right now and the tension she'd been having lately instantly melts away. She just needed to come home.

"Missed you too," he says to her while looking over her shoulder at Dean as he grabs their bags from the trunk. Now everything is right. His kids are back. And they shockingly look pretty damn good. His worry fades a bit, but not totally. His concern for them will never be fully gone.

Lizzy backs away from the hug, pauses to look at him, and tries to decipher how he is. When she just stares at him he gets a little awkward.

"You know it's impolite to stare," he tells her.

"Just checking," Lizzy grins a little.

"I'm fine."

"Famous last words," she wags a finger at him.

"Hey'a Bobby," Dean greets as he walks up to them. Lizzy backs off so that Bobby can give his son a manly hug hello, complete with gruff couple of pats on the back as is hunter protocol.

"You two are lookin' pretty good," he tells them once he starts walking into the house, Lizzy and Dean following close behind.

"Lookin' quite spry yourself, old man," Dean jokes as he glances around Bobby's house. "Whoa. Guess the maid couldn't make it this week?"

"Already?" Bobby bitches instantly. "You just got here and you're shittin' on my ways already?"

"Well, the place is looking a bit… messy, Bobby," Lizzy says with concern. Normally Bobby's house is a mess. Books everywhere, empty and half-empty whiskey bottles strewn around, dishes in the sink… but it's much worse this time around. It looks like he hasn't cleaned in months and the dust and clutter is built up to a scary place.

"Been busy," he shrugs as he heads for his study.

"With what?" Dean asks quickly, his old habits coming back in an instant once he's in the house.

"Most recently? A chupacabra," Bobby answers while taking a seat in his desk. Dean tags along and takes a seat across from him as Lizzy stays in the kitchen and does what she and Lou always used to do the second they'd get to Bobby's; she starts picking up after him.

"You don't say," Dean says with interest.

"I do."

"Where at?"

"Out in Texas," he answers. "But I got a guy on it already."

"Who?"

He'd love to answer truthfully on this one, tell him Sam's on the case, but of course he can't. He doesn't have it in him to ruin the one good thing Dean has going for him right now. Normalcy.

"A friend of Rufus'," he lies completely. "He left this morning to go hunt the damn thing down after researching for a few days."

"Well I hope he's good," Dean comments as he helps himself to the whiskey bottle on the desk. He stands up to grab a glass in the kitchen but not before topping off Bobby's own glass. "Those little bitches can be real bitches."

"No worries," Bobby answers. "This guy is good. Real good." He looks into his refilled glass before taking a sip to mutter to himself, "Scary good."

After he sets his glass down, he watches Dean and Lizzy from his desk, seeing their usual ease with each other is even easier than before. The time alone has done them well.

"Seriously? You're here for five seconds and you're cleaning?" Dean questions her as he walks into the room where Lizzy is gathering up used dishes and dropping them into the sink.

"I'm just so used to cleaning up after you these days that I must have gone into autopilot."

"Smart ass," Dean comments as he reaches into the cupboard for two glasses. "Come on, put the chores down for now and be a good guest, huh?" He holds up the whiskey bottle and shakes it, winking at her. "Been a long ride. Time to get a little drunk."

Lizzy narrows her eyes at him with a sigh before dropping her current handful of dishes into the sink. "Fine."

"That's my girl," he cheers before heading back into the study. He sits back down in his chair and pours out two more glasses.

"You two look like things are going good."

"Ah, yeah, you know… life's pretty good. You're right," Dean tells him as he caps the whiskey bottle, knowing Bobby's not talking about how they are handling the loss of Sam or adjusting to the real world. He's asking about the two of them and their relationship. "Better than I would've thought, actually."

"Yeah. I mean, we've had time to just kinda be… a married couple," Lizzy adds as she sits down next to Dean.

"It's fucking weird," Dean adds in as he hands her a glass.

"But nice," Lizzy counters, a small grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes, it's nice," Dean says, stressing his words as he smirks right back.

"Well sorry I asked," Bobby complains. "You two are just about Bridges of Madison County."

"Shut up," Dean and Lizzy answer at the same time with embarrassment in their voice.

Looking at their very small group in the study, Lizzy sighs. As much as it feels great to be there, it just doesn't feel right. It's completely incomplete. She holds up her glass to the group.

"To Sam-I-Am and Louie," she says, the names still painful on her tongue.

Conflicted, Bobby plays along, clinking his glass with her and Dean before downing the whole damn thing in one go. He's cheers-ing to a man that's walking around this world as they speak. This was going to be harder than he thought.

"So you're both working stiffs these days," Bobby sums up what Lizzy tells him as they sit in the living room, the TV on but the volume is so low no one can hear it. They all ended up drinking into the night and catching up on each other's lives.

"Pretty much. Who woulda thought, huh?" Lizzy shares a drunken smile with her father figure as she sits on one end of the couch and looks at him from across the room.

"Not this guy," Bobby huffs as he slouches a little lower into his favorite chair, resting his glass on his stomach lazily as his elbow are on either arm. "Though I'm proud of you both."

"For getting regular jobs?" Lizzy giggles a bit at the ridiculous thing to be proud of while she absently rubs along Dean's shin as he lies across the couch with his legs in her lap.

"Hell yeah for getting regular jobs," he assures to her. "And for getting out. For being safe and giving your lives a real chance. I have never, never seen a hunter leave the life but you and Dean… you did it. You got it right. Proud ain't good enough, hon."

Smiling with a dumb, cloudy look, Lizzy feels good about that. "You hear that, baby? We made the old man proud…"

When she looks over to Dean he's passed out cold on the couch, his glass of whiskey resting on his chest as he still grips it with one hand.

"Guess I'll tell him tomorrow," Lizzy laughs as she reaches over to take the glass from him so he doesn't spill it. She then dumps what he didn't finish into her own glass before putting the now empty one on the side table. She'll definitely drink it. Bobby got a few bottles of Jameson just because he knew she was coming. Lizzy doesn't waste Jameson, ever.

"Never seen the guy pass out quite like that," Bobby laughs just slightly.

"Me neither until very recently. He can actually sleep these days which is a fucking miracle if you ask me," she informs him. "The nightmares are finally starting to lessen. And he can get more than four hours at a time too." Lizzy smiles over to her husband's sleeping, resting face. "He's not drinking massive amounts, his appetite is back to scary in a gluttonous way… he's doing ok now. Still has his bad days here and there and that's to be expected but he's getting by."

"And you?"

She looks to him with a flash of worry across her face before she masks it. "I'm alright. Getting better now that he is. I worry less about him so that's good."

"Ok, let's try this again… Liz, how are you doing?"

Peering into her glass in her lap she nods her head just slightly. "Better than when it happened. But not great. I keep trying to be ok but then… I…" she sighs with frustration. "I need more time. And I can't bottle up how I feel. More time I think will help. I just miss him too much still and always think about where he is..."

"I understand," Bobby tries to tell her. "And we all let our minds wander."

"I know, Bobby," she grins something sad to him. "But in the meantime I put on a brave face and try to live my life."

"Just like the rest of us."

"Exactly," she smiles something much calmer this time.

"So what is living like these days? I'm curious what the life of Elizabeth Winchester; Regular Girl looks like."

"Regular, huh?" she laughs a bit at his word choice. "It's not bad. I wake up in a comfortable bed, in my home, next to my guy. And I don't have to look over my shoulder every second. There really isn't a ton more I could ask for at this point in my life."

"No you can't." Bobby raises his glass to that sentiment and takes a sip, knowing he's already drunk enough as it is.

"Nope. I get to go to work and make an honest living. I cook dinner and clean the house and pay bills… and now and then get bored outta my freakin' skull."

"It's got to be a tough adjustment."

"So tough," she confirms and takes a gulp of her drink. "We haven't exactly gotten a hundred percent out though."

And this is where he glares at her.

"We did a quick salt and burn up in New Hampshire a few months back."

And still Bobby just looks at her, making her uncomfortable with his judging stare.

"Stop looking at me like that!" she warns him strongly.

"You were supposed to get all the way out." He wants that more than anything else. Offer Bobby one wish in life and it would most certainly be that.

"And I'm trying… but Dean and I now know we need to be eased out. Over time. Plus, dude, it was just a little kid ghost that needed to be put to rest. The poor thing was on a terrified loop of running away from his murderer and trying to find his mother. We had to help him."

"Hm," Bobby grunts. "Alright. Sounds harmless enough."

"It was."

"And I know how you get when kids are involved."

"You know me so well." She grins a little lopsided with the booze. She takes a deep breath and brings something quite personal up, the liquor lubricating her mind enough to speak it. "You know, on the hunt… Dean brought up us having kids."

If Bobby's eyes could get any wider they would be cartoon worthy.

"He did what!?"

"You heard me."

"Seriously? He's the one who brought it up first?"

"Could have knocked me over with a light breeze, I swear."

"What'd he say?" Bobby inquires, needing to know. His girls always could get him gossiping like a middle-aged woman in a hair salon in no time with how open and honest they were. They got him going and he fell right in line with it. As closed off as he always is was with Sam and Dean, he could be turned the opposite quite easily with Lizzy and Lou.

"Well, we had summoned the little guy to talk to him so we could figure out where he was buried and that's kinda where it started." She takes another gulp of whiskey and has to wonder if she should be telling Bobby all this. Since she has no one close enough to talk like this with beside Dean maybe she should. "He saw me handle Owen well. Later he said he thought I was always at my best when I'm around kids."

"He's right."

"Yeah, and we've talked about kids before… like, before Sam…" She stops herself and just shakes her head, not wanting to finish her statement. "But not since then. I mean, we both know we want a family but it was never an actual, viable possibility until now."

"You think you two will make it happen?" Bobby asks them, unable to hide his hopeful tone.

Lizzy smiles over to him. "You sound like you're all for the idea there, Bobby."

"I'm for anything that will make my Liz a happy person in life."

The honesty makes her melt a little.

"Yes, I think we will make it happen… just not yet." She glances over to Dean. "I know how good a father Dean'll be. He'll be beyond awesome but only after he's had time to process his loss. And the same goes for me." Looking back to Bobby she sighs. "I'm not ready yet. I'm still a mess. And I drink too much."

"You both do that!"

"No shit," she huff a laugh. "But… we did kinda make an agreement."

"I'm listening." Bobby sits up a little taller.

"I suggested that we take an entire year to recover. We have a deadline now to get our acts together and be the good people we need to be before… trying."

"Trying?"

"Yes," she smiles something genuine and bright for the first time all night. "If by May we're ok and on track we're gonna start trying."

Bobby sits with the news, processing possibly the best thing he's heard in years.

"Shit, you think it's a bad idea?" Lizzy worries when Bobby doesn't respond for a while and his face doesn't give anything away. She doesn't have anyone who knows her story well enough that she can talk this over with besides him. Bobby's the only person left who can honestly give a solid opinion that matters on the issue.

"No, ah," Bobby slowly starts. "I just really… I'm rooting for you two. I think this is a good thing."

"Yeah?" she smiles wide once more.

"Definitely," he confirms strongly. "Liz, I just want you two happy and at your best. You're both good, loving, caring people and you already put family first. I think if you didn't have kids it'd be a tragedy. You were both made for that."

Biting her lip through her unstoppable smile, Bobby knows he made her happy. And he knows he confirmed her plan as a very good one and that's exactly what she had needed.

"Thanks, Bobby," she says to him.

He waves her off immediately.

"So what do you want to go by?" she shoots him a devilish grin as she takes down another hefty gulp from her still large drink.

"What're you talkin' about?"

"What do you want to go by?" she repeats, holding back a laugh. "Grampa, Gramps, Pops… maybe just Old Man Singer?"

She laughs but he doesn't.

"Oh come on, Bobby. I was joking!" she laughs loudly as he looks hurt at first.

"I know you were," he forces a smile to play it off but it doesn't work.

"Hey, what's the deal over there?" she questions with his seriousness.

"Nothing."

Something. It may have been an assumption on her part, but Lizzy is telling him outright that he'd be a grandfather. After never having kids with his wife before she passed he never thought he'd be ask that question. What do you want your grandkids to call you? What will they yell when they come to visit and are happy to see you? What will the kids of your unofficially adopted children write on the back of their school drawing they made for you?

"Lair," Lizzy accuses as she points at him. She gets it and her muddled, drunken mind doesn't feel bad for calling him out. "You're getting sappy on me!"

"No I'm not," he angrily denies. "You're just drunk."

"Fuck you, I'm not drunk!" Lizzy just short of shouts in fear of waking Dean. "You're touched! Holy shit, you got emotional over this shit!"

"Way to ruin a fucking moment, Liz," Bobby grumbles with anger as he stands up quickly and downs his drink.

"Aww, don't leave!" she laughs out.

"Goodnight," Bobby says succinctly to her as he drops his glass in the kitchen.

"No! Wait a minute!" she begs as she's about to lose him for the night. "Come back for a second."

"Why?" he asks as he walks back to the living room doorway.

"Grampie," she tells him honestly. "That's what I called my grandfather on my mother's side. He reminds me of you. Gruff, grouchy, a real pain in the ass… and the only soft spot he had was his family that he loved fiercely."

He sighs with an eye roll.

"Shut up and go pass out, you drunk," Bobby says with ire and annoyance, rounding the corner to hide his smile as he mumbles to himself, "Idjit."

He ascends the stairs and Lizzy finds herself content. Clearly she made Bobby happy with what she's very boldly just shared with him. It was worth sharing.

Once he's mulling around to get ready for bed, Lizzy decides to try and wake her Sleeping Beauty.

"Baby?" she calls in a whisper to him, shaking his legs across her lap. He doesn't move. "Dean?" she calls, this time using her voice quietly.

Nothing again.

"Cheese burgers," she tries with a laugh. "Bacon. Tits. Strippers. Beer. More beer. Pie. Cherry pie. My cherry pie."

Nothing still.

She crawls out from under his legs and climbs on top of him. She drapes her body on top of his and leans in close. "I brought the kimono."

A deep inhale through his nose and he slits his eyes open to look up to her. "Let's go upstairs."

"Bullshit!" she giggles with his antics while he sits up. "You woke up before I said that."

"Maybe," he answers quickly. "So did you bring it?"

"No."

"Liar," he grumbles, pushing her off of him and standing up. "Get upstairs and get naked. You owe me, you fucking cock tease." He keeps walking into the hallway.

"Wow, you really know how to put a girl in the mood."

"You in or what?" he asks, his voice farther away as he heads up the stairs.

"He's lucky he's fucking hot," Lizzy complains of his demeanor as she stands and jogs after him. She's able to overlook a lot of his rougher edges when she just takes one glance at him. Lucky bastard.

"When you walk. And when you talk. I get the tingle, I want to mingle, that's what I want."

Heavy sigh, Bobby makes his way down the stairs from the second floor of his house. It was sweet of Lizzy to cook breakfast for him. And it was very kind of her to offer to clean the house just like she and Lou always did when they'd visit for a few days. But he forgot about one thing.

"Hey listen baby, turn up the fader, tryin' to make you understand you're on my radar. On my radar. On my radar."

The chores came with a certain type of music blaring loudly through the house. A type he doesn't particularly like… nor normally tolerate.

So he quickly as he can makes his way through his study, stops at in the kitchen to grab a couple beers, and heads out the side door before she can see him. He needs out until she's done.

Once he shuts the kitchen door he blows out a hard breath as Britney Spears' music and the accompanying horrid, tone deaf voice is finally muffled instead of blaring in his ears.

"Annoying as fuck, ain't it?" Dean peers over to him from where he's hunched over the open hood of the Impala. He's dealt with this a few times since they'd been out of hunting. She does this every day she performs a serious cleaning.

"It ain't pretty, that's for sure," Bobby responds as he makes his way over.

"The angels seemed to have forgotten about making her voice match the packaging."

At this Bobby actually huffs an honest laugh. It was a funny observation after all. It would have been easy to give her a voice that didn't sound so terrible.

"And I mean, what the hell, huh?" Dean questions with annoyance as he stands up and takes an offered beer from Bobby. "Zep, Doors, Crosby Still and Nash… and Britney freakin' Spears?"

"Hey, she's got eclectic taste," Bobby brushes aside.

"Yeah, awesome," Dean grumbles with sarcasm dripping from his words as he pops the cap with his ring.

"Well aside from the voice she ain't too bad so I say you still come out smelling like roses with that one."

"Mm," Dean hums and nods while sipping his beer. "When you're right your right." Beside the voice she is pretty awesome.

"Dean, uh… is she ok?" Bobby broaches the subject cautiously. Getting Dean in a talkative place isn't always the easiest task but he needs to know if Lizzy is alright enough to live and breathe on a daily basis.

"Yeah, I mean it isn't great yet," he admits. "She had a rough one on Lou's anniversary just like every year. And she has her moments through the day where she'll get real quiet and shut down for a little bit. Other than that she's been doing good. Shockingly good."

"And you're sure it isn't just some act?" Bobby pries further.

Dean just looks at Bobby for a moment with a little surprise. "What?"

"I'm just wonderin'," he starts as he takes a seat on the closed cooler by the front passenger side tire. "That girl will do anything for you, including ignore herself in order to help you. I'm just nervous that she might not be as good as she's lettin' on."

"You know something I don't here?" Dean asks with a tone of growing anger and suspicion. He lives with Lizzy. He knows her. He'd notice if she was still in a terrible place mentally.

"Look, when you passed out last night we kept talking," Bobby explains himself. "She pretty much told me she ain't exactly ok. It made me concerned and knowing who she is I bet she's been putting on one hell of a show for you… to make sure you're good. You're her priority after all."

"And she's mine," the irritated tone answers back. "L is always my first priority, you know that."

"I do know that, ok?" Bobby assures with Dean quick anger. "Have you two actually talked about what happened… about Sam?"

Thinking for a second, he realizes that, "No. Not really." They had somewhat touched the subject but Dean always tried his damnedest to end it as soon as he could. It just hurt too much.

"I think you should."

Dean shoots Bobby an uncomfortable and pissed off look.

"I know you don't like that idea but this ain't about you for once," Bobby tells him much more harshly than he'd wanted to. "It's about her. She's a talker and as much as you hate that, you gotta help her. I think that maybe on the long ride home you take the opportunity to fix this. Talk to her."

Knowing he's right, Dean rolls his eyes as he sucks down a large portion of his beer.

"Plus… you better get her head straight soon because that May deadline is closer than it seems."

Snapping his focus back onto the older hunter, Dean sees the smirk on Bobby's face. He winks once and Dean gets it.

"Sounds like someone drank too much last night," Dean assumes.

"Sounds about right," Bobby nods, the hint of a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Great," Dean bitches. "Loose Lipped Lizzy at her best."

"Oh, it's fine," Bobby tries to make light of the fact that he knows about their plans. "And I fully support the idea… as soon as I know Liz is ready for that and her head is where it should be. That's on you, Dean."

"This fatherly bullshit is getting old with you," Dean accusingly points at him but he's slightly joking.

Bobby huffs and gets up from his spot. "Don't get too sick of fatherly bullshit. You're gonna need to master the art of it soon enough if things go your way."

"Alright… enough talking," Dean pushes it all aside. "More fixing. I think I found the rattling."

"Yeah?" Bobby asks as he walks to stand next to Dean at the bumper of the Impala. "What'd you think?"

"Oh my God, I'm dying," Lizzy groans as she sits back on her side of the booth while holding her stomach. She looks up to the ceiling and declares, "Yet I regret nothing."

"That's good," Dean laughs quietly at her as they finish up their road stop dinner.

"This was so fucking good," she tells him. "Glad you made us stop."

"Hey, any time I have a chance to comeback to Midway Oh Boy, I take it," he tells her, dipping his last onion ring into ketchup before shoving the whole thing into his mouth. "This place is tits."

"Here, here," Lizzy fully agrees as she sits up and looks at the practically empty baskets in front of her. "I gotta stop ordering more food than I can comfortably handle. I always eat all of it, knowing that I'm gonna hurt so bad when I'm done."

"Suck it up, Noonan," Dean brushes off her complaints while grabbing one of the last fried pickles she had left. "You're better than this." He pops the pickle in his mouth and chews. "Being full is just a myth. It's mind over matter."

"Oh is it?" she asks with a smile at his interesting take on the sensation of being full.

"Absolutely," he answers her instantly with a mouthful.

"The amount with which you are full of shit is completely mind-blowing, you know that?"

Dean smirks at her. "I'll prove it."

"How the hell can you do that?"

"Most people would say that, after what I just ate, I should be full, correct?" he asks her, eating her last French fry to help demonstrate.

"Double cheeseburger with bacon, onion rings, cheese puff bites, and half my fried pickles… ah, yeah. I'd say you should be well past the point of full."

"Ok, good. I should be done, yet…" Dean picks up his paper menu and points to the bottom of the page. "They have pie."

He grins wide at her while Lizzy's jaw drops in shock.

"You're a pig," she tells him while still holding her stomach.

"Nope, just a master at mind over matter."

"You keep telling yourself that," she laughs as she watches him get up to head to the counter.

"You want anything?" he asks her on his way.

"No. I'm dying, remember?"

Dean shakes his head and keeps walking away.

Looking at the war field that is their table, Lizzy pauses on the basket of fried pickles she just had to order.

Sam loved fried pickles.

Usually, he was the healthy eater. His food never came fried, covered in cheese, or drenched in fat. He ate salad, and grilled chicken, and fruit… except for fried pickles. While on the road they ate at a diner that had them and Lizzy, having fallen in love with the food a few years earlier, ordered them right up. Sam of course gave her a disgusted look, one that says 'you're not really going to eat that, are you?', but she made him try one. He ended up eating most of her order.

From there on they always shared an order of fried pickles anywhere they would find them. Nowadays she orders them still but for a different reason. It just plain reminds her of the brother she lost and wants back so badly.

She thinks of him a lot like this, a couple times a day coming across triggers that bring up memories of Sam or how he ended up saving the world… and losing his soul to eternal torture.

"Blueberry," Dean says with pure excitement as he sits back down across from her, plate in hand. "Such a classic. It never gets old."

Picking up a fork to dig in, Dean pauses when he sees that Lizzy's quiet again, her posture small. She does this often. He knows why too.

"You ok?"

Lizzy nods slightly, her smile never reaching her eyes, before looking back down at the table. She never says a word.

Dean drops his fork, folds his hands on the table top, and looks right at her. "What did it this time?"

"Did what?" she questions.

"Made you think of him."

He read her like a book, wide open but only to him.

"Fried pickles," she tells him honestly. "He loves fried pickles. Because I made him try them."

"Yeah," Dean thinks about it. "Yeah, you guys did always buy them wherever we went."

She nods once more and stays quiet.

"You know, you don't have to keep all that inside anymore, L," he tells her. "Not for me. You've done enough for me."

She doesn't respond as she's almost afraid to.

"Talk to me here," he says, knowing how rare a phrase that is for him to even try and utter. "You're never gonna get better if you don't. I know it…. Bobby knows it too."

"I don't even know what to say at this point." She looks down at her hands in her lap.

"Then just go with the first thing you think of."

"I want to share fried pickles with him again," she simply answers. "I want to fight over the last one like we always did." Her voice elevates as she grows sadder. "I want Sam to call me a fatty. I want to call him a dick for saying that. I want hear him say he thinks I'm gonna have a heart attack before I'm thirty." She sniffles as she lets it all out.

Dean gets up from his side of the booth and slides in next to her. He immediately puts his arm around her and she leans into him heavily.

"I didn't know him as long as you, it was only a few years… but I love him, Dean. He was so good to me. He was so good to everyone." She wipes her eyes. "I'm not ok with where he is. And I don't know how to be."

"Then we're on the same team," Dean assures her. He hasn't come to terms with a damn thing about how the whole Apocalypse didn't go down. "But you have to just focus on the good. On what he did and what he gave up to save people."

"I try, I do…"

"But it still hurts like a huge bitch."

"Yes," she answers quickly and closes her eyes.

"L, you're not alone," Dean promises her. "You got me. We're in the same exact boat here. You gotta talk to me."

"I don't want to make it worse for you…"

"Stop that," he calmly halts her where she is. "Stop being so focused on me still. I can handle it. The next time something makes you think of Sam, you tell me all about. It's the only way you're gonna get any better."

"You sure?" Lizzy asks him while looking up. "I think about him a lot."

"Whatever it takes," he assures. "You need to be in a better place. And May ain't that far away you know."

"No it's not," she sees how right he is. "Thanks."

"Hey, I owe you," Dean just brushes off.

Silently Lizzy reaches across the table and slides his dessert to their side of the booth. "Now, pie… well that'll just always make me think of you."

"Yeah it will," Dean happy returns as he cuts a bite with his fork and eats it.