Chapter Two: One very warm day on August 14th, 2006
»I heard about your fight with the trickster, macchar, and I just wanted to let you know that I support your plan. Well, maybe not the part about involving this hunter. He is, after all, just a lowly human who would selfishly choose his own kind over you at any given time… Although I do have to admit that his resources might prove to beuseful in order to get to the bottom of this.«
»It's just that—… Your trust in humanity is something I will probably never understand. They have done absolutely nothing to deserve it. Quite the contrary, actually, if it's true what Loki told me about that mortal who sold you out to Hell's filthy little minions….«
»But let's not talk about that now.«
»You will promise me to be careful around them. Pray to me if the need should arise and regardless of anything else, I would consider myself very lucky if you were to share your findings with me one day. There's hope that once we know what you're made off, we'll be able to create more of you so that this stupid Trickster can't keep you to himself all of the time.«
»Oh, don't look at me like that, macchar! Of course you two will reconcile. It's only a matter of time. I personally believe that it's a miracle that you haven't had more issues with this man-child before. He can't even properly function when you're not around to pamper him!However, once he has returned to you that damned fool will be much more supportive of your quest — that I guarantee you. Even if it takes longer than you might expect.«
»Loki, for all the trouble and headaches he loves to cause for others, is not very fond of change himself. And while he is someone who is quite impossible to understand, he taught me a very important thing the day he introduced me to you.«
»While weaknesses can be the source of formidable strength, one has to be aware of where such vulnerabilities lie in order to truly master them. And there will come a time when knowing who you really are, macchar, could be the one thing that makes all the difference.«
— Kali, talking to Liz after she and Loki parted ways sometime around January 2006
"When you agreed to let Sam help us with the research, I thought you'd be much more… tight-lipped about the important details" Bobby chose to point out somewhat sourly, having waited for Sam to go check up on his brother outside before addressing the issue.
Liz, who had just curled up on the couch with a fresh cup of what smelled like chamomile tea, inhaled some of its soothing aroma before inclining her head in the general direction of the hunter.
They'd both spent the better part of the night browsing through his library and yet —for some frustrating reason— she still managed to pull off looking as fresh as a daisy while Bobby felt each and every bone in his body aching in retaliation. Maybe he should have listened the fifth time Liz had tried convincing him that he'd better get some proper rest.
It was just that Bobby felt somewhat uneasy leaving her alone as long as the boys stayed under the same roof.
He knew the brothers meant well. It was just that, as hunters, they couldn't really help being suspicious of anything remotely supernatural. And that with good reason. After all it had taken Bobby years to trust Liz like he did today.
A being that happened to be probably about five times his age… and appeared to be perfectly content to nestle herself up to the faded pillows of his old couch with a cuppa. In order to have her blend in better, they'd found her a pair of cheap shorts and one of his old plaid shirts. Liz had been entirely too amused by his well meaning efforts, but then again she hadn't complained about any of it — even going so far as suggesting that Bobby should probably ward the second story of his house against her to make his other guests more comfortable.
But still — the salvage yard owner couldn't help but feel irked that she refused to see that this… safety precautions should go both ways.
Closing the book on a page he'd been staring at for the last ten minutes, Bobby met her curious stare straight on.
"I know that you're no threat to me just like you know that I wouldn't try anything to harm ya" the hunter sighed after some hesitation; making sure to send a quick glance through the window to check for the return of the boys. "But you do know that it sure ain't the safest bet to let them on about your weaknesses this early? I mean, especially before those idjits stop planning on how to best get rid of ya." He paused only to grouch, "It's like you're askin' for it, Liz."
Making a small noise at the back of her throat, the blonde finally placed her mug aside to properly converse with the hunter.
'I want him to trust my word — not question what details I might have skipped for convenience's sake' she signed Bobby; making sure to slow the movements of her hands for him. He always got a little rusty with sign language in between their annual meetings. 'Keeping track of what has and hasn't been said is always so tedious.'
'He only knows that I grew up in Ireland and it's not really a secret that I am not exactly on friendly terms with the other deities there. It would otherwise be quite—' Bobby rummaged through his mind, finally able to recognize the sign for '— foolish not to ask them for help. And the boy is a bright child — you were right about that. Don't you believe that he would have figured it out anyway?'
For quite some time, both the hunter and the female creature just stared at one another. He silently unhappy with her dragging him in the middle of yet another conflict between herself and the Winchester family — and she thinking of ways to make things easier for her old friend.
'I could still leave and come back during a more convenient time.'
"Listen, girl, there's no such thing as a more convenient time. So, you'd better stay put right where you are!" Pausing just to make sure that the message had been understood and accepted, Bobby's voice softened to its usual gruffness, "You told me that you fought your family over this. Who would I be to turn you down now that I know just how important this search is to you?"
While the small outburst at the beginning had caused Liz to incline her head with a fond smile, his last words left her with a strangely somber look.
Sensing that this still was a rather sensitive topic for her, Bobby simply picked up where he had left off, "The boys will understand with time… You might wanna work on your attitude, though. Quit pushing their buttons, ya hear me?" She did — if the false innocent blink of her eyes served as an indicator. "They may think that you're just some kind of supernatural simpleton, but I damn well know you're not. So, the only possible explanation for ya acting like that is that you're up to something, Liz…"
Already having reached for her cooling mug of tea, Liz' movements stilled for a second.
It was all the confirmation Bobby needed.
"What do you plan to accomplish by provoking Dean, Liz?"
The contemplative look on her face disappeared so quickly that Bobby might as well have imagined it. Especially once Liz conveniently hid her expression behind the rim of her tea mug.
"You know what it's like to lose someone important, right?" Bobby inquired since he had a feeling that this might be the actual rub here.
He had always seen Liz as someone who, for the lack of humanity itself, tended to be very, if not overly compassionate. Hell, she had even stayed with him whenever a hunt had pushed him back into those dark places he'd ended up after his wife's death — nights spent wallowing in a rather unhealthy balance of both self-pity and –hate… flinging hurtful words at the next best person…
And she had never once reproached him for attempting to shoot her during that one time when he had been well on the way of drinking himself into oblivion…
Forcefully pushing those uncomfortable thoughts aside, Bobby waited until he knew for certain that they were both on the same page again.
"Just give the boy a break, Liz."
Abandoning the comfort of his couch, Liz uncurled her legs to place herself in front of his desk. And within a split-second Bobby knew that he didn't like the smile on her face one bit.
Somehow it seemed like his carefully chosen words had just given her the most wonderful idea.
Before the old hunter could properly express his apprehensions, however, his strange supernatural house guest sent a few hand signs his way as she backed away.
'How about some French toast for breakfast? And I believe there are still some oranges left. Some nice, freshly pressed juice might lift that spirit of yours… which you're evidently lacking right now.'
"Liz…" Bobby growled in a warning, narrowing his eyes at her retreating figure.
Instead of stopping to listen to his protests, the young woman walked out of the room with a spring in her steps. Giving a futile attempt to at least try and soothe the pain between his furrowed brows, Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose and eventually turned his attention back to the book on European nature spirits on the desk before him.
Carefully lifting one of the ancient pages, he called after her, "Just how high are the chances that this'll just end in another damn mess?"
For a second her face actually made a reappearance in the doorframe — if only to lean around the corner and show Bobby her mischievous dimples. He was pretty sure she knew that the sight of them always had his lips twitching as well. The glow to her eyes gave it away.
It had the old hunter wondering when she'd learned to make others forget about their worries or doubts with just a grin.
Shaking his head, Bobby decided that he preferred her easygoing nature after all. Even if, nine times out of ten, it promised trouble. Just like that pack of bacon she now produced from behind her back; proceeded to flourish it in front of him — all while still maintaining a safe distance.
"You gonna need somethin' better than bacon to bribe me. 'specially if you want to make up for that headache you're causin' me" Bobby finally scoffed, though he sounded exasperated at best.
Dean had to give it to the she-monster. Her self-preservation had kept her out of his sight so far. Even if there were of course signs of its presence here and there — like the food she prepared, or the smell of her herbal teas — which she seemed to consume in amounts that easily bordered some sort of addiction.
Yet, ever since their first awkward encounter, Dean had not caught more than a glimpse of her.
The fact that he'd spent most of his time outside, working on the Impala ever since it had been brought over by a friend of Bobby's who owned a wrecker, might have been another reason. Not to mention that Dean himself had avoided her as much as he could — all while trying to convince himself that he wasn't actively doing so. He liked to think that, if the circumstances were a bit different, he probably would have been the one to crowd her just to make sure that she'd either snap, or just get lost.
But thanks to her diligently sidestepping him, the first day of staying at Bobby's had not been as bad as it could have been — at least in this respect.
With a satisfying clank the last of the Impala's doors came off, allowing Dean's mind to once again bring up the main issue.
Even with the music blaring from the radio he couldn't just ignore how fiercely he wished his dad back. How the feelings guilt for being the one alive was probably what he deserved for wanting answers more than a pat on his back — and how Dean dreaded what else John might have asked of him if he'd had more time.
The words John had said to Dean just before he'd—
They had smudged the line between what the now eldest Winchester considered his duty… and what would be forever impossible for him.
Setting aside the crushed car door —careful not to cut himself on the shards of glass that still stuck out from the bent window frame— Dean's hands grabbed onto the now doorless carcass of his beloved baby to survey the damage inside.
He couldn't possibly wrap his mind around the truth of his father's death yet; some part of him simply refused to even try and understand it. Especially since he couldn't help but question his own miracle recovery and how exactly it could be linked to the body he'd watched burning to ashes on that pyre.
There was just so much Dean still needed to know; questions he had never gotten the chance to ask him.
Like, for example, what reason could possibly make him turn against his very own brother?
That Dean would rather die attempting to save Sammy from whatever fate their dad had talked about should have been obvious to him, right? He was their dad; he should know, know better than… than that.
So how could he even ask this of him? How could John even considered this option? Surely he hadn't been planning to take out his own son… ?
Tightening his grip until the bite of metal pushed away his thoughts, Dean made a sharp inhale through his nose. For him there was no question about Sam. It was the part about not knowing what the future had in store for them —of what it would do to them— that scared the hell out of Dean.
And he had no-one with whom he could talk about any of this, not even with Bobby.
So, could it be that he was just venting his frustration on the one person— being who had put the cherry on top of this load of crap? Possibly.
Even if this admission didn't necessarily mean that Dean would warm up to that freaking nutcase anytime soon.
He simply refused to accredit Liz' evasive behavior to any sort of consideration on her part. Whatever reason she had for ghosting him, it couldn't possibly stem from anything good. He actually felt more inclined to think that she feared him; a reason that warranted both his suspicions and attitude towards her — the whole Little Miss Sunshine persona and stupid grinning aside.
In Dean's personal opinion someone, or rather something, had quite literally knocked the sense out of Liz. Because, if this whole self-discovery-trip wasn't just an elaborate scheme to get the names of the hunters Bobby worked with, Blondie sure was asking for it.
Similar to his brother, who chose this exact moment to approach Dean with yet another plan on how to get him to talk about his feelings.
"Here — I brought you something to drink" Sam offered as a way of greeting and Dean didn't even bother looking up from where he was focused on getting the Impala's front bench unstuck. He already knew that he'd find that contemplative frown on Sam's face; the one which usually promised more annoying questions.
So, instead of offering Sam an easy way out by simply refusing to speak with him, Dean backed away from the car to accept the offered bottle. He gingerly moving over to sit down in the shade of the rundown shed which contained most of Bobby's tools.
Sam meanwhile awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets as he tried to make his tall frame appear smaller, "You sure you can fix it?"
"Not like you're gonna do it" Dean offered irritably before taking a swing of the water. "What about crazy-pants? Surely you haven't left her alone with Bobby?"
For a second Sam's face turned sour before he eventually send a glance towards the house. "She went into town to get a few things, buy groceries…"
Squinting against the bright sun to catch a glimpse of the house, Dean downed half of the bottle before pointing out, "She didn't take one of Bobby's cars."
"No. She decided to walk instead."
The somewhat forced casualness of the younger Winchester didn't fool his brother for even one second.
"Well, isn't that just peachy? Let's just hope that her shopping list doesn't include any human body parts or other unsavory things" Dean retorted with little humor. "Any news on how to off her? And please don't tell me you ate any of that nasty crap she cooked up."
Under his older brother's scrutinizing gaze, Sam couldn't help the equally humorless scoff once he realized that Dean was indeed doubting whether he had kept himself in check around the unknown supernatural being.
He did however try to make his retort sound a bit more lighthearted than he actually felt, "I'm more surprised that you said no to pie."
"Well, I ain't gonna eat any of her nasty witch crap!" Dean snapped back a little more indignant than he had intended to. That pie had smelled simply amazing and for one second he had actually been tempted to throw all caution to the wind.
Clearing his throat when he noticed Sam's expectant expression, Dean chose to continue as though nothing was off, "Anyway, back to the topic. What have you found out about her weaknesses? And please tell me there's a quick way. Don't wanna make things too messy. It's bad enough that she's kinda…"
The little whistle Dean used to emphasize that he thought the woman had a screw loose somewhere, made his brothers lips twitch — if only lightly.
After all Sam knew better than to point out that after having spent most of his day with Liz, he found himself siding with Bobby more and more. Well, definitely not to the point of feeling at ease around the blond house guest, but he no longer doubted that she had told them the truth. Just like he could plainly see that she was as much of a supernatural wackadoo as she pretended to be. And for whatever reason, Liz herself had been the one who advised him to stay on Dean's side in this — making Sam wonder just what was going on inside that head of hers.
He didn't plan on lying to his brother —not for her— and it seemed to be something that Liz anticipated.
Yet, betraying her and thus Bobby didn't seem like the right choice either.
"We mostly discussed on how to narrow down the possibilities of her parentage — gathered a few questions that Liz will try to answer so that we'll be able to analyze them tomorrow. Bobby's busy researching a number of books that could be helpful from here on. But he promised to make his pot roast later."
While Dean contemplated what his brother had just told him, he scratched along his jaw, smudging some of the grease on his cheek.
He knew of course that Sam was trying to bait him with the promise of food. But the thought of Bobby making a peace offer in the form of his unmatched pot roast did indeed gain back some of Dean's goodwill. Especially since he couldn't help feeling a bit let down by the older hunter's behavior — not that Dean even bothered to once consider his own actions towards him and especially his guest.
Eventually the older Winchester shrugged and poured the remaining contents of the bottle over his head before handing it back to his brother. With a firm clap on Sam's shoulder, Dean simply brushed past him to get back to work.
"Then we'll just have to wait and see what you're going to discover tomorrow."
Not only was it humid outside, but also oppressively hot and somehow Sheriff Jody Mills found herself standing in front of the local supermarket's fruit selection.
Her day had been truly terrible so far — marked by the questionable highlight of saving some drunk high school kid who had decided to stick his junk inside a soft-drink machine.
Somewhere between trying to calm the boy, who had by the time of her arrival been near hysteric to lose the thing before he'd even put it proper use, and calming the scandalized neighborhood party threatening to just take the matter in their own hands –apparently literally– Jody had decided that she'd treat herself to something nice.
It felt like an incredibly long time since she had last done something just to make herself feel a little bit better. Long enough, the sheriff realized, that she had absolutely no idea what might actually do the trick.
"'the hell with it!" she finally mumbled and simply grabbed one of the watermelons that happened to be on sale.
She carelessly dumped it inside her shopping cart and proceeded to check her list for the things her husband Sean had asked for.
At some point the small exchange of shopping lists and notes on what needed fixing around the house had become their sole form of communication — small pieces of paper pinned at the front of their fridge with the photo magnets showing a happy family of three.
Absorbed in her own sad little word, Jody at first failed to notice the person who had suddenly appeared next to her cart. A little perplexed the sheriff blinked at the young woman, before finally offering a very unsure, "Hi…"
The woman's response to the sorry excuse of a greeting was a dimpled smile paired with an expectant air around her as she continued to just look at her — well, the kind of look that got beneath one's skin and seemed to expose every little secret.
Unsure if the woman just happened to be weirdly intense, Jody finally inquired uncomfortably, "Uh, can I help you with something?"
Her blond hair danced around her pretty face as she gently shook her head, still smiling with a brightness that almost hurt Jody's eyes. For a moment the sheriff froze before checking around if there was something the woman could possibly want from behind her, but she stood in the middle of the cleaning material aisle and wasn't blocking her way.
There was only Jody, her cart and this lithe, faintly freckled girl with those exhaustingly lively eyes. Looking her up and down to check for weapons, Jody noticed that she'd donned faded shorts and what seemed to be a man's shirt — one that had already seen its best days.
"I actually know a few words in sign language if that would be of any help…" Jody finally offered as a last resort, but the woman's hands didn't produce any movement. Instead they unloaded another watermelon directly into Jody's arms; the object appearing seemingly out of nowhere.
Before Jody could do much more than stare dumbly at the offending green thing, the woman had already taken another careful step closer. Anticipating the foreseeable question, the blonde slowly raised her hand, formed to a loose fist, and then knocked on the melon in Jody's arms.
The fruit gave a hollow response, almost like that of a bow-taut drum, while the one that had already been put inside the cart sounded rather wooden.
It took Jody a ridiculous amount of time to finally summarize, "You want me to buy this one instead?"
The woman smiled again and nodded, before slowly backing away to give the sheriff some much appreciated space.
"Well, if you say so… Didn't know that knocking on a watermelon tells you which one's best."
When Jody got back from returning the first melon, the strange woman had already disappeared.
Once the sheriff left the supermarket with her purchases, however, she spotted her standing at the other end of the parking area — apparently quite unhappy with whatever her cell phone had informed her about. Next to her there were two full grocery bags awaiting to be transported home.
The sheriff meanwhile stored her own bags away and settled down behind the wheel of her car; still planning to ignore the blond woman and drive home to cool her knock-approved watermelon.
In the end Jody spent a few moments sitting in her car — going through the small number of gestures she still remembered from that sign language seminar, before she took a deep breath and pulled up next to the watermelon woman.
"Need a lift?"
Dean just returned from inside the tool shed when he noticed the police car standing in front of the house.
His first thought was that somehow the police had gotten wind of where he and Sam had disappeared to. After all, they hadn't exactly asked for permission before taking their father's body from the hospital with them.
The second —and most obvious— guess, however, seemed to confirm itself when he spotted Bobby who pushed Liz inside the house. The following conversation between the hunter and the female officer seemed to be standoffish at best.
Watching the scene unfold, the first surge of adrenaline still pumping through his veins marked the point where something inside Dean finally snapped.
With deliberately slow movements he set down the cutoff hammer. Then he started walking; picking up pace as he hurried down one of the paths that would get him to the back entrance of the house without being spotted from the front porch.
His breathing quickened as he stalked narrowly around the many car wrecks, muscles further tensing with every turn until he almost ran into Sam who had abandoned his research to evade the police.
Stumbling out of his brother's way, Sam turned to call after him, "Whoa - hey! Dean what's gotten into you?"
"Into me? What's gotten into me?!" Dean barked in blinding anger, suddenly turning on Sam with his jaw clenched. "It's that nasty creature you and Bobby cuddled up to, Sammy! She's been escorted back by the police and now what? I'm just putting two and two together — what do you think happened?! You gonna give her a pat on the back and tell her that whatever sick stuff she's been up to sure wasn't her fault 'cause you fallen for her crap?!"
When Sam just stared at his older brother with confusion written all over his face, Dean scoffed and pointed an accusing finger in his direction.
"I told you this thing was a freakin' monster but when do you ever listen to me?"
There were some very bitter, almost volatile emotions rewriting themselves across Dean's face. He was so far beyond the point of regaining his cool and Sam's ongoing silence seemed to further ignite his shortly fused temper.
Dean took one step closer to his little brother; squaring his shoulders.
"Let me guess, you probably bonded with her over being outcasts and book nerds, right?" Dean assumed while strangely satisfied that Sam's face immediately fell in response. "Newsflash, Sammy: Your little freak friend did something bad enough for the police to show up! And now you will have to take responsibility for whatever she's done! Cause it sure as hell wasn't just some shopping trip she went on, Sammy. Whatever she's done is gonna be on you, buddy, and I'm going inside now to make sure this never happens again!"
Dean didn't wait for his brother to follow him. He didn't even turn around to look at him; a part of him already aware that he'd feel guilty for what he'd just said.
But he had a monster to kill and no matter what the others would say, there was no such thing as an innocent monster. Not in Dean's book, at least, and he had learned from one of the best, dammit!
Just when he lifted the plank of the secret weapon stash hidden in the stairs of Bobby's back porch, Dean heard the police car leaving. He waited for another minute, doing a quick check on the ammo before he burst through the backdoor.
The look of surprise on Liz' face didn't really match Dean's vision of her shrinking away with guilt. But for someone who found herself at gunpoint on two consecutive days, she seemed surprisingly calm. Maybe the novelty had worn off at some point.
"Do you know what really makes me sick?" Dean asked without preamble, even though he somehow failed to enforce his words with the proper amount of distaste. He was just so tired of it all. People leaving after unloading their burdens on him, people who wouldn't listen no matter what — people whom he couldn't tell the truth.
Glaring at the blond woman and her half-unpacked grocery bags sitting on the kitchen counter behind her, Dean scoffed, "You're the kind that sucks up to people; you make them believe that there's actually some good in you before you turn on them! But you can't fool me, Blondie. I see right through that crappy act of yours."
In all honesty, Dean just wanted to end this whole mess. He wanted things to return back to how they were supposed to be — and he very much wanted to believe that this thing before him should be held responsible for everything that felt so very wrong right at that moment.
Just when Dean raised the shotgun to aim at Liz' chest, Bobby came rushing in through the front door — directly followed by Sam who had apparently taken the detour to alarm the older hunter to the situation.
"DEAN! If you don't put that gun down, I swear I will—"
"What are you getting all worked up about, Bobby? It probably won't harm her anyway, right?" Dean said with a casual shrug as he cocked the gun; the sound uncomfortably loud in the sudden silence of the kitchen. "After all you made sure that we wouldn't be able to properly harm this monster, right? But it should weaken that thing enough so that we'll be able to tie her up and chop her into pieces."
Dean's humorless smirk suggested that he felt a bit smug about having it all figured out, even if it looked more like a grimace on his tense face.
"Just one quick question" John's oldest now threatened with a carefully low note. "How long have you been aware of her doing shady stuff, Bobby? I mean, the police — seriously? What should the police want with her if they didn't agree that she's suspicious? A little trip to town my ass! What have you really been up to, huh Liz?"
Before Bobby could say anything in Liz' or his own defense, the supernatural being moved to the kitchen counter, taking her discarded shopping list and a pen — all the while making sure that Dean didn't mistake her movements for an attempt to arm herself.
When she handed him the note scribbled on the back of the paper, her hand didn't shake in the slightest and the expression of her eyes almost seemed to plead with him for some reason — even if it didn't seem to be for her own life.
"'Please check your father's journal for an entry of Eilís.'" Dean read aloud when she finally held it up for him to decipher; having noticed that he probably wasn't overly inclined to loosen the grip on his shotgun. "So, my father hunted you before? That's why you evaded me, huh? Feared that I'd find a way how to turn your freaky smile upside down." Without taking his eyes off the female creature, Dean barked, "Sam! Why don't you make yourself useful and find me that entry on an Eilís?"
"Dean…" Bobby interrupted as he tried to move closer to Liz.
"No, Bobby! Stay right where you are while I prove to you just what kind of monstrosity you invited into your own goddamn home!"
Seeing the tiniest movement as Liz shook her head, Bobby backed down reluctantly, thinking that he should have known better. While he didn't doubt for a second that Liz had a plan on how to defuse the situation, he couldn't help but wonder if this had been part of her grand plan.
The best scenario he could come up with included at least one round of shots being fired before the brothers would have to deal with whatever insults had been traded between them in the backyard — if the younger Winchester's unusual refusal to side with his brother was anything to go by.
"'Eilís' is not some kind of creature, it's simply a name" Sam finally informed his brother when he reemerged from the library with their father's journal in his hands.
"It's pronounced 'IE-leesh'" Bobby corrected them. "It's the Irish Gaelic form of Elizabeth. The reason why I call her Liz. And your dad didn't hunt her, Dean. He worked with Liz together on a case."
Rudely shoving the open book against his brother's chest, Sam took Dean's gun away before he could even protest. Giving Dean a terse nod, the younger Winchester secured the weapon before putting it behind him.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, Dean scanned the pages titled with Liz actual name and his frown deepened with every line his eyes passed over. When he finally finished, he turned a page and then another one — evidently searching for more.
Once Dean realized that there wasn't, he tensed.
And when the true scale of the situation hit him, he thumbed the journal down on the desk before leaving the house without another word.
Liz gave Dean a good couple of hours, before she eventually approached him in the fading light of dusk.
She found him sitting on the trunk of his wrecked car, sipping from a bottle that he had apparently kept hidden somewhere. Probably for the day when Sam would confiscate all the alcohol left in the house.
Not bothering to wait for his permission, Liz quietly moved to lean against the hood next to him — giving him just enough space to make sure that he wouldn't immediately bolt.
They remained like that for quite some time and the silence surrounding them would have been almost companionable if it weren't for Dean's sour face.
Liz offered him back the journal, knowing that he'd refuse it even before he made it a point to ignore her. But with a similar sense of stubbornness, Liz stayed and watched as the stars slowly bloomed across the darkening sky.
When Dean finally inclined his head, it was just enough to let her know that it wasn't unintentional, but somewhat short of having to actually face her, "Why haven't you mentioned it earlier? Why wait until I make a complete fool of myself?"
If the bitterness in his voice became all too apparent right then, Dean didn't really care. He just felt very, very tired. And more than a bit drunk.
Liz however carefully considered his words before finally saying, "I didn't want ye to think that I was only after the information inside John's journal. But then one thing led to another and now I feel terribly sorry for messin' everything up. It's one of the few things that never change. Me, messing things up, that is."
It wasn't so much the revelation that she suddenly had gained the ability to speak, but the stark contrast between her appearance and the sound of that voice coming out her mouth that caused the Winchester to visibly cringe next to her.
Fiddling a bit with a loose threat of Bobby's shirt in a very convincing portrayal of human insecurity, she finally admitted, "I thought that if I should succeed to redirect some of yer anger towards myself, I'd be able to save you from feeling sorry for something you'd otherwise say to Robert or yer brother. I did not meant to… It was actually meant to be ah controlled demolition. I had falsely assumed that it would be easier for you to focus your anger on just me."
Pulling a face, Dean finally looked at her and completely disregarded her words, "So the point about you stealin' voices is true then?"
"I borrow them" Liz objected with familiar indignation coloring Bobby's voice that indeed somehow wormed itself out between her lips. She actually managed to look both properly offended and at the same time pleased to be able to invalidate his accusation.
"I must say grumpy old man suits you."
Liz actually smirked in a way that bore absolutely no similarity to her sunny smiles. It looked downright wicked as she regarded him out of the corner of her eyes.
"I am sure the grumpy old man will be very pleased to hear tha'."
Dean snorted without even meaning to and this time they lapsed into a silence that was slightly less uncomfortable than before — the Winchester still torn between his cordial dislike for the blond thing sitting next to him and Liz wondering how to make up for what had happened earlier.
Bugs buzzed around them; the small shadows of bats chasing them around the towers of car wrecks.
"Sheriff Jody Mills offered to drive me back since I had a lot to carry. I met her at the shops and we bonded over watermelons" Liz finally offered casually as though she'd simply been meaning to tell him about her day — not giving him the reason for the police car's presence earlier that day. "As thanks I gave her my recipe for melon sorbet, which is why she drove me up all the way to the house. I should have known that Robert might feel uncomfortable about havin' some bobby around and also that you might get the wrong idea."
Dean merely continued to take more generous swigs from the bottle now that everything made a whole lot more of sense to him. He couldn't say that he was happy but at least she had decided to take some of the blame.
Her next remark caught him a little bit off guard, however.
"I didn't look inside, you know? Inside tha' journal, I mean."
Dean raised his brows in her direction and she simply met his gaze. It was in that moment —with the direct light of his working lamp clipped to one of the unhinged doors shining on her face— that he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a strange mix of greens and gold. As far as appearances went, they had to be the most supernatural thing about her.
Meaning to slightly cock his head to one side, Dean felt himself drifting away from her as he fought to regain his balance, "Are you tryina ask for permission to take a look at it?"
"Not quite" she smiled and for some weird reason Dean actually started to get used hearing Bobby's voice coming out of her mouth. He really hoped that this was only due to his level of intoxication. Bobby with boobs was, after all, a rather disturbing idea. "How about you tell me yourself?"
As if there could be some sort of secret trap to her innocent question, he searched her open face for anything beside that annoyingly patient smile.
When he found nothing overly suspicious, Dean snatched the journal from her hands. His brain meanwhile helpfully provided him with the info that he had not dared to touch it after what had happened to its former owner.
Well, before he'd attempted to use it as a weapon against her earlier.
Staring for a moment at the Marine service medals his father had pinned on the inside cover, he finally cleared his throat a little awkwardly and flipped to Eilís' page.
"Let's see… Well, now would you look at that!"
"What?" Liz perks, surprised at his sudden exclamation.
"Dad put you between an ugly giant bloodsucker thingy and humanoid spider called Arachne. Though luck Blondie." Dean chuckled at her before he grew serious again.
Squinting at the page in the dim light, he finally continued, "He writes that although you're allergic to most materials that ward off monsters, they're not fatal. And cream's supposed to have some sort of weird effect on you, not sure if I wanna know the details… But it doesn't say anything about what you could be."
Wetting his lips, Dean chanced a look at Liz's face only to find her smiling very softly at him instead of the journal. Quickly turning back to once again search the written lines seemed like the safer option.
Especially since Dean couldn't help but suspect that this wasn't about her at all.
"It says here that you're by far the weirdest thing he ever met. And that you apparently turned on your own kind instead of preying on humans."
"John Winchester disliked me quite a bit" Liz suddenly put forth with a note of surprising dry nonchalance. It seemed eerily similar to the kind Bobby used to color his voice with, yet not quite as bitter. Maybe it was due to her British accent, but it actually helped with keeping her and the salvage yard owner apart. Except that the voice was still male and she very much not so.
Oblivious to his train of thoughts, she continued, "But I learned to respect his ways. I was very sorry when Robert and he fought because of the trouble I'd gotten myself in. John was a good man, an even better hunter… Did you know that he antagonized me just as much as you did when Robert first introduced us?"
Dean tensed at her words, believing for a second that she actually expected him to apologize now.
Instead Liz surprised him yet again when she suddenly stood up and stretched her arms above her head. She looked so laughably ordinary right then, outlined by the porch light of the house. He didn't even bother to acknowledge that the female creature had just helped him get in touch with his suppressed feelings.
Finally looking back at him with a grin, Liz said with that odd deep voice, "I will never manipulate you into trusting me, Dean Winchester, but I hope we'll be able to part in peace. Until then I will try to make up for my unwelcome presence by helping you lot where I can. Does this sound agreeable to you?"
The silence after her words lasted long enough to make her feel self-conscious. Just when Liz' hesitation started to show on her face, however, Dean finally gave in.
"Just because you don't harm humans doesn't mean that I like you any better."
His words earned him a soft huff that sounded just like a softer version of Bobby's grunt.
"And I think I do like you, Dean" Liz easily shared, perfectly ignorant of the face the older Winchester made behind her back. "And if it's any consolation, I believe Robert's pot roast should be finished pretty soon. The other two are waiting for ye to join them… They told me to inform you that they'll come looking if you don't show yer ugly mug."
Dean decided to graciously ignore that last bit, instead going for, "Why do you call him Robert anyway?"
Liz actually seemed surprised that he asked.
"I wasn't aware he preferred to be called otherwise."
Slowly coming to stand beside her, Dean shook his head before taking a shaky step towards the lights of the house. It took him however a moment to realize that she made no move to follow him.
"You comin'?" Dean wondered aloud and it was hard to tell who was more caught off guard about the underlying message of his question. He again blamed the now empty bottle in his grip for the strange tolerance he had just shown her.
Liz however quickly recovered, already turning on her annoyingly sunny smile just as Bobby's voice bellowed from across the scrapyard, "Boy, get your ass inside, like pronto! And don't you dare show up without the other idjit!"
macchar /'matshaa(r)/ n. shortened form of machchhar, which translates as mosquito and is sometimes used as an affectionate pet name for thin or small people [Hindi] — it's what Kali calls Liz at the beginning of the chapter
Author's note: So, this chapter turned out far longer than I originally expected, but I absolutely had to include Jody – for those of you who're wondering: while it wasn't mentioned when she lost her son Owen, this scene is set after his death and of course before the dead rise in Sioux Falls in a later season.
While the series skipped the week at Bobby's, I wanted to show some glimpses on how the brothers deal with loosing their father while at the same time not making things too gloomy.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the update and thanks to everyone who favored and followed. I can promise that Gabriel's going to make an appearance in the next chapter.