Awkward silence filled the interior of the Impala as it raced down the highway toward Topeka. Hope practically vibrated with anger, and for the first time in three months she had the irresistible craving for a drink. She swallowed hard and stared out the window, feeling Dean's eyes on her through the rearview mirror as she refused to look at him. Looking at him wasn't an option because if she did, she'd lose all of her resolve to be angry—and damn it all to hell if she didn't have plenty of reason to be angry.

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Aisy, and she shrugged back at him. No matter how much he wanted to call Dean out on his immaturity, now wasn't the time. They had to stay focused on the job in front of them. Everything else could be dealt with later. "So," Sam said, clearing his throat, "who's Charlie?"

Aisy tilted her head and regarded Sam with an unreadable expression. "She's—" Aisy took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to tell Sam. She shook her head, shifting her gaze out the window as she muttered the words that tore her heart out even now. "She's just someone I used to know."

Sam frowned, squinting slightly as he tried to make sense of Aisy's cryptic answer. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He decided not to press for an explanation, instead turning his attention to Dean, who was glancing in the rearview mirror at Hope—again. Sam shook his head and blew out a breath as he decided not to even go there. Dean and Hope were grown adults who were about to have a child, they were going to have to figure out how to be adults all by themselves. "Not my circus," Sam muttered, settling into his seat for the rest of the ride.

An hour later, Dean parked the car in front of a run-down apartment building in the south side of town. He glanced up to the third floor windows, making a mental note of the iron bars covering the windows before uttering the first words he'd spoken since they'd left the bunker. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Yes," Aisy said, nodding emphatically. "It's on the third floor, second to the last door on the right. I know, because I used to live here, a long time ago." Without further explanation, she got out of the car and headed toward the building.

Dean shot Sam a questioning look, but Sam only shrugged and got out of the car, jogging to catch up with Aisy as she crossed the narrow strip of yard between the Impala and the door. Dean and Hope followed them, and Hope resisted the urge to laugh as Dean tried to keep Hope behind him, making a mental note to stop being childish and tell him what the hell was going on with her—once she figured it out, of course.

Aisy inhaled sharply as they reached the top of the stairs and she glanced down the hallway. Charlie's apartment door was splintered, hanging precariously by its lower hinge. "Oh, Charlie," Aisy murmured, stepping over the shattered wood as she entered the apartment. "What have you gotten yourself into?"

Charlie had put up a fight, and Aisy couldn't help but smile to herself as she took in the state of disarray around the apartment. That's my girl. She bent and picked up Charlie's cell phone, its screen shattered. Aisy turned away from the others, muttering a spell under her breath. It was a bad idea to use her magic this freely, but it had been so easy to do ever since she'd broken her self-imposed magic hiatus to help save Hope. I'll worry about that after we find Charlie, she told herself as she thumbed through the contacts on Charlie's phone.

"Who is this girl, Jason Bourne?" Dean muttered as he picked up several passports and driver's licenses off the table in the center of the room and discarded them back in a haphazard pile. He glanced at the open laptop on the table. "Sam, come take a look at this."

Sam crossed the room, leaving Hope to watch the hallway for any unexpected guests. He seated himself in front of the screen and typed a few commands. "Who is Gertrude Middleton?" Sam asked, shaking his head.

Aisy froze, nearly dropping Charlie's phone as she turned to face Sam. "What did you say?" she demanded, and Sam looked up from the computer, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Gertrude Middleton," Sam repeated, frowning. "Does that name mean something?"

"She's Charlie's mother," Aisy said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Charlie never talked about her, but I heard her on the phone talking to a hospital once. Charlie didn't know that I knew about her."

"A hospital?" Sam said, his brows knit together. "So, is it safe to assume she's not who took Charlie?"

"Well, considering the woman has been in a coma since Charlie was twelve—probably not," Aisy said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of her voice. Sam shrugged, and Aisy went back to going through Charlie's phone. Out of curiosity, she called the last number on the outgoing calls, expecting it to be the nearest Chinese takeout place.

"Shawnee County Morgue, how may I direct your call?" said a pleasant voice.

Momentarily distracted, Aisy pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it, blinking twice before pressing it back to her head. "Oh, uh, sorry. I think I dialed the wrong number," she said, quickly, then pressed the end call button before the woman could respond.

"What was that about?" Dean asked. Aisy stared at the phone for a few moments, her gaze darting between the phone, Sam, and then finally resting on Dean.

"Whatever trouble Charlie's gotten herself into, it has something to do with the Shawnee County Morgue," Aisy said, staring at the phone in shock. Why would Charlie—of all people—be hunting? Didn't she know how dangerous it was? Of course she does, Charlie's not stupid, Aisy told herself.

"Oh, yay. I was hoping to have a chance to visit a morgue today," Dean groused, running a hand across his forehead. "Guess it's a good thing I showered before we left. C'mon, Sam. Let's get this over with." Sam nodded, following Dean back to the car with Hope and Aisy trailing behind.

A half hour later, the four of them were standing over the latest liquified body found in Shawnee County. "What the hell could've done this?" Hope asked, swallowing hard as she tried to keep her stomach from ejecting itself through her esophagus.

"It looks like a djinn, but not quite," Sam said thoughtfully, carefully turning the corpse's hand over to reveal a blue handprint on its inner forearm.

"Whoa, wait. Lemme see that," Dean said, moving around the table to get a better look at the marking before pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket and dialing Bobby's number. He answered on the third ring and Dean closed his eyes in relief.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean said, bracing himself for the verbal thrashing he knew he deserved, but it didn't come. Why hadn't Hope—or even Sam—called him? Dean couldn't decide if it was because they assumed Dean would get his head out of his ass and come back eventually, or if they just didn't care about him enough to complain to anyone about his monumental hissy fits anymore. Just as his mind almost had him convinced it was the latter, Bobby's voice brought him back to the present.

"It's good to hear from you, son. I was worried. Sam said you were off the grid for a while, but he didn't say why, and Hope was pretty tight-lipped too. You got your head screwed on straight now?"

Dean glanced at Hope and Sam, an overwhelming surge of emotion washing over him as he watched them murmur to each other as they inspected the body. "Yeah," he said, clearing his throat as he turned away from Aisy's quizzical look. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good. So what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if there was more than one type of djinn," Dean said, grimacing as he lifted the corpse's arm to study it closer.

"I've never heard of anything like that, but anything's possible I guess. Let me make some calls and I'll get back to you as soon as I hear anything, alright?"

"Alright. Thanks, Bobby," Dean said, ending the call and absently dropping the phone into his jacket pocket.

"You think this is a djinn?" Aisy asked, shaking her head. "That doesn't make any sense. Djinn drain their victims, they don't liquify them."

"True," Dean said, not taking his eyes off the corpse in front of him, "but those are your normal, everyday djinn." He chuckled to himself, then walked away from the table. "Wow, I cannot believe I just used normal to describe a monster. I've been at this shit way too long."

"Dean. Focus," Sam said, gesturing for him to continue.

"Right. Well, that's why I called Bobby. Nothing else makes sense, really. Whatever did this isn't a true djinn, but what if it's some bastard cousin the other djinns kept locked in a basement because they were too much of an embarrassment at Christmas dinner? I mean, every family's got one, right?"

"Yep, mine was an uncle," Aisy offered. Hope's mouth twitched in amusement, but she said nothing as Aisy continued. "That's a stunning idea there, Deano—but you're forgetting something. Even if this 'bastard cousin' exists, we have no idea how to kill it, or how to find Charlie."

"Actually, we just might have a way to find her, but without knowing how to take one of these," Hope grimaced and shuddered, "things down, it probably won't do us much good."

"Well, let's focus on that until we hear from Bobby," Dean said, bracing himself for the cold shoulder that was coming. Hope stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. It was a better response than he hoped for, and he crossed the room to stand beside her. "So what's your theory?"

Hope turned her attention back to the chart she held, avoiding Dean's eyes. "Um, well," she started, clearing her throat, "the coroner had to notice a pattern when all of these bodies started turning up, and yet—there's nothing in the notes or autopsy report. I mean, there were several victims that all died this way, right?" Hope pursed her lips and shook her head. "I mean, I'm a surgeon, not a coroner, but it seems like something's off. Maybe we should ask the coroner why there's no pattern mentioned."

Sam nodded, glancing at Dean. "Well, that would be the logical thing to do. Thing is, the coroner is home sick today. Apparently there's some sort of stomach bug going around?"

"Hmm," Hope said, dropping the chart onto the steel table next to the corpse. Without a word, she crossed the morgue, headed for a door labeled Dr. Jennifer {Last Name}, Shawnee County Medical Examiner. Hope tried the lever but the door was locked.

"Here, let me," Dean said, pulling a lockpick set out of his pocket and setting to work on the door. An awkward silence surrounded them as Dean quickly picked the lock and pushed open the door, gesturing for Hope to go inside first. She did, heading straight for the filing cabinet. Hope wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for, but thought it would surely be obvious when she found it.

"Jackpot," Hope said as she slid open an unmarked file drawer and started pulling out a stack of thin files. She opened the first one, looking for the police report.

"What are you looking for?" Dean asked. "Maybe I can help?"

Without looking at him, Hope handed him half the stack of files. "Look at the police reports. Find anything that connects the victims. If nothing else, get the address of where the bodies were found. We can plot them and if we're lucky, find a central location between them."

"Good thinking," Aisy said, gesturing for someone to hand her some files. "I'll help. If we can narrow down the search area, I can find Charlie that much easier."

Dean made a face, and Aisy stared at him blankly, waiting for him to say something. "Is that going to offend your delicate sensibilities, Deano?"

Dean scowled at her, color flooding his cheeks. "Not nearly as much as you calling me Deano."

"Well," Aisy said, tapping her chin thoughtfully with the tip of her index finger, "I figure saddling you with a terrible nickname is the least I can do. I mean, you did call me a hell bitch. It seems only fair."

"Actually," Hope added, not looking up from her folder, "he's still getting off too easy with that nickname. I have a few choice names you could call him if you want. I had six years and two weeks to come up with them."

Aisy snorted as Dean growled something under his breath and went back to the task Hope had given him. He supposed he deserved every bit of venom Hope spit at him, but he'd been wrong to hope that she'd get it all over with at once. Maybe after the crisis was over they could just talk for a change. Something had to give—and soon; he was certain of that much, at least.

No one spoke for several minutes, the sound of pens scratching on paper the only noise in the office. When they reached the bottom of their respective stacks, Hope put down her pen and gathered them all up, placing them perfectly back into the filing cabinet. "We should probably go," she said to no one in particular as she ripped the handwritten addresses from the pad and shoved them in her pocket, then disappeared out the door without looking back.

Dean left the Impala idling as he checked the four of them into a room for the night, and Sam glanced through the windshield nervously before he turned to Hope. She was leaning back in the seat, her head resting on the back and her eyes were closed. "Hope?" he started, his voice hesitant.

"Mmm?" Hope answered, not opening her eyes.

"Are you and Dean going to be alright?"

Hope cracked an eye, fixing a stare on Sam. "Are you seriously asking me the equivalent of 'are you and dad getting a divorce'?"

Sam snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"I don't know, Sam," Hope said, closing her eyes again. "I just don't know. I'm so tired of this back and forth bullshit. I don't know if I can keep doing it, ya know?"

"I understand," Sam said, letting the subject drop as Dean climbed back into the car and tossed Sam a key.

"What's this?" Sam asked, staring at the key as he turned it over in his hand.

"I got us joining rooms," Dean said. Sam nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching. Somehow, Sam didn't think Hope would be receptive to the idea, but hey, who was he to say anything? He only hoped that maybe they'd work through some of their bullshit so the ever-present tension in the air might dissipate and everyone could breathe freely again.

Hope leaned forward and held her hand out near Sam's shoulder, wiggling her fingers. Sam glanced at Dean and gave him an apologetic smirk before dropping the key into her palm. "Thanks Sam," she said, patting his shoulder and nodding to Aisy as she grabbed her duffle and got out of the car. Aisy glanced at Sam and shrugged, grabbing her own bag and following Hope.

"What the hell did you do that for, Sam?" Dean glared at him, betrayal shining in his eyes. "I had a plan."

"Oh, did you?" Sam shot back. "And how exactly did you think that was going to go, huh? You have no idea what kind of damage you caused when you left, and you waltz back into the bunker two weeks later like nothing happened and expect Hope to just be okay? She's not. She's carrying your child, and you abandoned her, Dean. What the hell? I mean, you abandoned me too, but it's not like it's the first time it's happened and we usually find our way back to each other—but Hope? She's not me, and she deserves better than your immature bullshit."

"I know," Dean growled. "I know." His tone was soft as he repeated the words. "But what am I supposed to do? I can't be what she wants me to be. I'm going to screw up, Sam."

"Do you even know what she wants you to be?"

"Yeah, perfect," Dean snapped, staring out the window as he parked the Impala near their room.

"That's what you think she wants?" Sam said incredulously. "Why? Because she is? News flash, Dean, Hope is not perfect. Not by a long shot."

"She is to me," Dean murmured, refusing to look at Sam. "It's impossible to live up to that."

Sam ran a hand down his face and shook his head. "So—what? You're just not even going to try?" He paused, pressing his lips together before adding, "and here I thought you wanted to be a better man than Dad."

"I am not Dad!" Dean snarled as he glared daggers at Sam. Sam raised his hands, then shook his head and pushed open the car door.

"If you're not Dad, then stop abandoning your family to deal with everything alone when shit gets to be too real," Sam said over his shoulder as he climbed out of the car. He didn't give Dean a chance to respond as he shut the door behind him, only then remembering he couldn't leave Dean alone there because he'd given his key to Hope. Well, he wasn't the one Hope was mad at, he told himself as he knocked on the door next to theirs. Aisy answered, opening the door wide to let Sam enter before she shot Dean a "get your shit together" look and closed the door.

Dean leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Sam was right and he knew it. Sam was usually right, whether or not Dean wanted to admit it. The question was, how was Dean going to fix the monumental mess he'd made? Struck with an idea, he sat up straight and started the car. This was probably the craziest idea he'd had in a while, but it just might be what he and Hope needed. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Sam before pulling out of the motel parking lot.

"Where the hell is Dean going?" Aisy asked, letting go of the blind and turning to Sam. "Did he just leave us here?"

Sam's phone dinged and he fished it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen. "No. He didn't leave us here. He says he's got something he needs to do, and he'll be back in an hour."

"What could he possibly have to do that was so important it couldn't wait until we found Charlie?"

Sam glanced at his phone again, chewing on the inside of his lip as he shrugged. He couldn't answer without giving away the surprise, and that's the last thing he wanted to do. "That's just want he said. So, let's get started on the addresses while we wait for him."

Hope narrowed her eyes and studied Sam suspiciously. She'd spent enough time with the Winchesters to know when they were lying, and Sam was definitely lying, although she had no idea what about. She stood up and stretched, dropping her harms to her side as she strode toward the door. "If you guys don't mind, I need some air. I'm gonna take a walk."

Sam opened his mouth like he wanted to object, but Aisy put her hand on his arm. "I understand," she said, nodding to Hope. "At the risk of sounding like your mother, don't go too far, alright?"

Hope rolled her eyes and grinned at her. "Yes, Mom. I'll also eat all my veggies and be in bed before midnight."

"You'd better," Aisy replied, grinning back. "Seriously, though. Dean will have our heads if something happened to you."

"Dean can—" Hope started, then clamped her lips together and shook her head. "No—that's not going to help anything," she muttered. "I'm just going to walk around the building and clear my head. I'll be alright, I promise." Without waiting for an answer, Hope walked out the door, disappearing into the twilight.

Once the door closed behind her, Aisy turned to Sam. "Alright, tell me the truth. What the hell is Dean really doing?" Sam gave her a half-grin, then handed over his phone without a word. Aisy glanced down, reading the text from Dean. She locked eyes with Sam, her mouth twitching as she tried to keep a straight face.

"Does he really think that's going to work?" Aisy said quizzically. "It sure as hell wouldn't work on me, but then again—I'm not a romantic, either."

Sam shook his head, chuckling. "Yes, you are."

"I am not!"

"You are," Sam insisted. "And I can prove it."

AIsy crossed her arms, regarding Sam with a raised eyebrow. On the outside, she was calm and collected, but her heart was thumping wildly inside her ribcage and she prayed Sam didn't get close enough to notice. She swallowed hard under his gaze, suddenly wishing she could disappear entirely. "So how are you going to prove something that isn't true?" she demanded.

"You'll see," Sam said, his eyes twinkling with untold secrets. God, she loved his eyes. Truth be told, Aisy loved everything about Sam Winchester, even the darkest parts of himself that he'd chosen to reveal. The more time she spent with him, the more she knew without a doubt he was it for her. The question was, was she the one for him too? It was a question she was nowhere near ready to ask just yet, but she hoped like hell the answer would be yes.

Hope returned a few minutes later, smiling to herself as she sat down at the table and began plotting the addresses on the city map she'd picked up from the lobby. She hoped that Sam and Aisy might enjoy the privacy, and maybe Sam might work up the nerve to make a move. It was obvious Aisy wanted him, and he wanted her just as much—and up until that morning, Hope had no idea why Sam was dragging his feet. It seemed so obvious now, and now that the story was out there, maybe he'd do something to move things along. Otherwise, Hope might just have to take matters into her own hands.

"Done," Hope said, as she marked the last address on the map. Sam and Aisy walked over to the table and glanced at the crude circular shape Hope had drawn. "Well, shit. That's still a twenty square mile radius. There's no way the four of us can search all that."

"Luckily," Aisy said, grabbing the map from the table and spreading it across the bedspread as she perched on the edge, "we won't have to." She closed her eyes and ran her hands across the map, murmuring in a language Hope didn't recognize.

"What is she doing?" Hope whispered to Sam, who just smiled.

"Finding Charlie," Sam whispered back. "She did this once before, to find the last ingredient of the cure for you."

Silence fell across the room as they watched Aisy chant, barely noticing the low rumble of the Impala's exhaust outside the door. Aisy opened her eyes as someone knocked on the door, grinning at Hope and Sam. "I know where she is."

"That's great," Hope said excitedly as she pulled open the door and stood face to face with Dean, who looked unsure of himself.

"Hey," he said, running a hand across the back of his neck as he swallowed. "Can we talk?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. I guess so," Hope said, gesturing outside and avoiding Dean's gaze. She still couldn't look at him, not when those green eyes of his would forever be her own personal kryptonite. Dean stepped back toward the car, hopping up on the hood. He patted the space beside him, and Hope did the same. They sat in silence for some time, their shoulders barely touching. "Okay, you said you wanted to talk. What do you have to say?"

"I love you, Hope." Dean cleared his throat, leaning back and propping himself against the windshield as he stared up at the moonlit sky. "You know that, right?"

"I know you believe you do. I know that I want to believe you do, but Dean—" Hope shook her head, "I can't keep doing this, what we're doing. It hurts too fucking much." Tears welled in her eyes and she didn't bother to hide them. "You run off every time you get scared, or this gets too real, or the wind blows, or what the fuck ever—and I'm left picking up the pieces of what you've left behind. I won't spend my life living this way, Dean, and I won't raise our child like that either."

"What do you want from me, Hope?" Dean asked quietly, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees as he dangled his feet off the edge of the car. "I can't be some perfect image you've got made up in your head. It's not going to happen."

"You think I expect perfection?" A dry chuckle escaped her as she shook her head. "Oh my God. I guess Sam really is the smart one." Hope slid off the hood and laid a hand on Dean's cheek. "I don't expect perfection, silly man. I don't even want it. Perfection is an impossible standard that I can't hold myself to—why would I expect that from you?"

Dean shook his head and opened his mouth to say something, closing it again when Hope continued. "No, what I want, Dean Winchester—is for you to fight for us when everything inside you is screaming at you to run away. I want you to show me that no matter what, we're in this together and nothing is going to ever come between us. That is what I want." Hope dropped her hand, stepping back as Dean pushed himself off the hood.

"Now that—" Dean said, reaching in his jacket pocket and pulling out a faded velvet box, "I can do." He stared at the box as he turned it over between his fingers, trying to find the words he wanted to say. "Hope, I'm so sorry that I didn't fight for us all those years ago. I'll spend the rest of my life regretting all that lost time. I'm not perfect, I never will be, but I want to be better, for you, for us, and for our child, because we are in this together. You're the love of my life, Hope. The literal other half of my soul, and no matter how we got here—God, Fate, it doesn't matter—what matters is that you, and only you, have my heart. Marry me, Hope." Hope stared in stunned silence as Dean opened the box and held it out to her, the solitary diamond inside glinting in the pale moonlight between them. "We'll set the world on fire and go down in the flames—together. I can't promise it'll be a storybook romance, but I can promise it'll be an epic adventure."