Author's notes:

First of all, thanks to Nyla, Lula Bo, smile1, JanieSternin, Daisy Deertree, LOTRluva, and Ashlyn for your kind words and encouragement. It seriously makes me way too happy that people are both reading and enjoying what I'm writing.

Ashlyn—it's definitely okay with me if you want to put up a link to this story. I'm really flattered. ;)

More Dean-focus in this chapter. Next chapter will most likely be Luke. As always, I don't own Gilmore Girls, nothing is mine except the plot, and please don't sue. Reviews rock my world!

It was past ten o'clock when Dean woke up the next morning. There was no sign of Luke in the apartment, which made sense. He must have been up hours ago. Dean stretched and rubbed his eyes, but made no move to get out of bed.

Strange to think that he'd spent the night at Luke's, or that it had happened before. For a moment he allowed himself to remember that morning seven months ago when he'd woken up in this exact same bed on the day of his wedding to Lindsay. In that case, he hadn't been able to remember much of the previous night's events—something about drinking beer with his friends, and having a few too many, and Luke leading him upstairs and taking off his shoes as Dean had collapsed on the bed.

This time, however, he was able to remember the previous evening with almost painful accuracy. He could recall how Rory's lips had tasted like raspberries, and how her hair smelled like jasmine, and the hurt in Lindsay's eyes when he'd told her what he'd done. It had been the most wonderful and the most terrible night of his life, and although he'd already confessed his actions to Lindsay, he was by no means finished with dealing with the consequences.

Dean rolled out of bed and found his backpack where he'd placed it next to the sofa the night before. He really wanted to take a shower, but didn't feel like he had the right to make himself that much at home here so he settled on a change of clothes and washing his face with soap and cold water. He had just finished when Luke entered the apartment, and without a word set down a plate of pancakes on the table.

Dean tried not to look too surprised. "Wow, thanks Luke."

Luke brushed aside his thanks. "I just thought you'd be hungry."

"I am," Dean assured him. "And I appreciate it."

"No problem," Luke shrugged. "I should get back downstairs."

"Hey, wait a minute," Dean insisted. Luke turned around and looked at him. "Why are you being so nice to me?" Damn. He hadn't meant to sound so accusing.

"What do you mean?"

How could he say this without making things worse? "It's just that...I always got the impression that you hated me, that's all."

Luke looked away, then looked back at him. "I don't hate you."

"I suppose you wouldn't have let me stay over or made me pancakes if you did," Dean agreed. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"I really should get back." And with that, Luke gave him a final nod and disappeared back downstairs to the diner.

Dean pulled up a chair to the table and began tearing into the pancakes. They were good and he was starving, not having eaten anything since an early dinner the night before. When he was through he took his dishes over to the sink, and after a moment's consideration washed them and put them to dry in the dishrack. His cell phone was still in his jacket pocket, and he took it out and thought for a moment before taking a deep breath and dialing Rory's number.

She picked up on the first ring. "Dean?"

He hadn't expected this. He'd planned on leaving a message, which would give him a little more time to think. Too late now. "Hi, Rory."

There was a long pause. This was not a good sign. "This is weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Dean admitted. "Yeah, it is. Uh, Rory, about last night—"

"I got you in trouble, didn't I? Dean, I'm so sorry," Rory rambled. "I wasn't thinking clearly and I'd just fought with my mom and I didn't' mean to call your house instead of your cell and then when Lindsay picked up I freaked out and—"

"I know," Dean interrupted. "And Lindsay knows. I told her last night."

There was another pause on Rory's end of the phone. "You told her?"

"I told her and I moved out," he continued. "Well, I'm not officially moved out yet, I still have to go back and get all my stuff, but Luke let me crash at his place last night, and today I'm going to go tell my parents and I'm sure they'll let me move back in with them for awhile."

"Wow. I didn't think...wow."

"I'm sorry," Dean apologized. "I've been rambling on about myself and I meant to call you and see if you were okay."

"I'm okay," she answered, even though she didn't sound okay. "I've got a lot of thinking to do."

His heart sunk, and he tried to tell himself not to be surprised. He hadn't expected her to be over the moon simply because he'd separated from Lindsay. "Okay. Will you call me in a couple of days?"

"I can't," she said, and his heart sunk even more. "I mean, I'm not going to be here."

"You're not going to be here?"

Rory sighed. "My grandma offered a couple of days ago to take me to Europe this summer if I wanted to go. And I called her this morning and took her up on it."

"Okay," Dean managed to reply, grateful he could speak at all.

"I need to get away from Stars Hollow for awhile," Rory explained. "I have to decide what I want to do, and I think that going to Europe will give me some perspective on that."

"All right," Dean agreed. "But I want to tell you that last night wasn't some meaningless fling to me. I told Lindsay because I realized it wasn't fair of me to be with her when I'm in love with someone else."

"Dean..." Rory's voice was shaky, and he realized that she was crying.

"Can I at least see you before you go?" he pressed on. "I'd like to talk with you in person."

"I can't," she replied. "We're leaving for Europe early tomorrow morning, so Mom and I are driving to Hartford tonight and staying over."

"Your mom's going too?" He hadn't seen that one coming, not with what he knew about Lorelai's relationship with her mother.

"I have to go." She paused for a moment. "I'll write to you."

Her words lit a faint flicker of hope in him. Maybe there was still hope for them yet. "Thanks, Rory. I love you."

"Goodbye, Dean," she whispered, and then she hung up.

She hadn't said it back, but he understood. It still hurt, though. God, did it hurt.

He put his cell phone back in his jacket pocket and trudged downstairs.