Chalk it up to the heat, lack of new Supernatural episodes or just gossiping with a girl friend on AIM, but here's the latest chapter. I wrote it around a 'Cheesy One-Liner' my friend gave me on IM and I owe the rest of it all to her, love ya Riss. Anyways, enjoy, I know we did, and the 'creepy' comes back in Chapter 11. I haven't really written Chapter 11 yet, but I have it all in my head, so no worries. Keep reading and reviewing.

Chapter 10- Over Heated

"So how are we going to get down to this coffee shop?" Tate asked as she flopped backwards onto an empty bed. "Dean has the Impala."

"Where did he go?" Sam asked from the laptop, his eyes watching Tate's every move. She was moving slower than she had been earlier when Sam, still half asleep at the time, saw her fly out of the room. But she was too much like Dean, never admitting when she was hurt or needed some help.

"No clue. He got pissed off at me and took off, you know your brother Sammy." She said as she looked up at the ceiling and swore she heard Sam laugh a little under his breath. "Shauna told me the name of place though, we could always catch a cab."

"Well whats the name of it?"

"No need to get your boxers in a twist Sam. Bayside Campus Coffee."

"All right, I'll make some calls, you relax." Upon hearing the word relax, she proped herself up on her hands and raised an eye brow in his direction.

"Relax?"

"Tate, didn't we save you from a very pissed off ghost about an hour ago?"

"Oh that! Sam, I'll be fine." She told him as she flipped onto her stomach and buried her face into a pillow; it smelt like Dean. "How long do we have to hang out Sammy?"

"Two hours or so." He sounded distracted, most likely still playing with the computer.

"What are you doing?" Her voice came out muffled due to the pillow that she refused to let go, the scents of Dean's shampoo and cologne were still caught along the fibers of the cheap pillow case material.

"Looking up more stuff on Tracy Allerdyce. I think there's a lot Professor Bowen isnt' telling us."

"Of course there is, if he was involved with what happened and didn't tell anyone then, do you think he's going to tell now? Now, with all of these deaths? And if he says he thinks it's her ghost, no one will believe him." She told him as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and scowled when she found a smudge of black eye liner on her skin. "Shitty make-up." She mumbled.

"I'm going to go outside." She said a few minutes later; finally pushing herself up off the bed. Her shoulder popped as she did so and Sam heard a small sigh escape her lips and wonder how hurt she really was and how much she wasn't telling him.

"What's outside?"

"Sammy, this is California, it's about ninety degrees out already and I repeat, it's California; there's a pool outside." Getting out of bed, she chagned from her jeans to a pair of shorts and flip flops, leaving her black camisol on before stopping behind Sam and ruffling his hair.

"You worry too much about me, knock it off."

"Then stop making me worry, I swear, you're just like him sometimes." Inwardly, Tate hated when he compared her to Dean, but didn't say anything about it.

Giggling, she messed up his hair again and then walked out of the room heading to the back of the building. As she came to the cast iron fence, she leaned her hands ontop of it and looked at the pool; kids were leaping in and out of the water, giggling and playing games of tag or volley ball. Parents sat on the sides, sitting in lounge chairs and watched their children play. Innocence was something Tate didn't have much of as a kid, she went from child to adult in what felt like a matter of moments. Pushing open the fence, she walked into the pool and after getting bumped into by a diving board bound little boy, she stole a lounge chair. She stretched her long legs out and looked up at the sun, her eyes closed tight. She thought about Dean and where he probably was.

"Probably drinking himself stupid." She mumbled as she listened to the sounds around her. She heard giggling, splashing, the occasional yell, the sound of cars driving past the hotel and more sounds of normal life. It was as if Sam, Tate and Dean existed in a tiny bubble where only they saw what was really going on. Her father had told her that at an early age, only a handful of people knew what hid in the shadows and she was going to be apart of that handful.

An hour later, she still sat on the lounge and her head began to flood with memories of heat, sun tan oil, and Him. The people that occupied other chairs around her began to fade away into nothing but olive and tanned colored blurs and soon Tate found herself back on an overly sun warmed lounge chair resting on the hot concrete that lined her aunt's in ground pool. Sam had been inside the restored main house of her aunt's Southern plantation, saying him and Garrett didn't need to see whatever Tate and Dean were planning to do, so it was just Tate and Dean. She could remember the way his swimming trunks slid down low on his narrow hips and the way the sunlight bounced off the water drops rolling down his tanned shoulders. That was the way she always remembered Dean, handsome, tanned and of course, dripping wet and that smirk he gave her before he dove in. She could see it all in her mind's eye, him diving into the pool and sliding gracefully along the bottom. And when he'd pop up to the surface, he'd scrub the water from his eyes and rake his hands through his hair, sending it into tiny brown spikes. She watched him do lap after lap, those muscle in his arms, legs and back flexing with each push through the water. She remembered watching him take to the ladder and just as gracefully slide out of the pool and make his way to her. She remembered the way his wet palms felt against her cheek and the still lingering scent of coconut sun tan lotion that clung to his skin. She would, from that day on, always associate the smell of sun tan lotion with Dean. She could remember his cool hands slipping into her hair as he leaned closer and pressed his lips to hers; they even tasted like sun tan oil. She never complained, in fact she enjoyed it. His fingers threaded through her hair and wound up at the base of her neck, without even thinking, Tate still felt his fingers parting each lock and dividing it up into tiny rows. She felt his long fingers trickle down her neck to the ties of her halter like top of her bathing suit and tug at one of the strings she had tied in a bow; allowing the very top of her shirt to flop down over her collar bone. In both her memory and the present, she sighed as Dean stood back up and pulled apart, only to move over to her ear, and whispered something.

"Come swimming with me."

And at the moment, Tate was putty in those lotion laced hands. She remembering seeing herself stand up as he dove back into the water, just as graceful as before, and watched that sinfully tanned body glide through the crystal clear waters. She was a very, very lucky girl, what had she done to deserve this? As he surfaced again, he stood in the shallow end and looked at her with those piercing jade colored eyes, bent a finger at her and called her towards him. Tate remembered coming into the water herself, cursing at how cold it was and before she could get out another insult to the offending water, she was pulled right up against his chest. It's warm here she thought as he bent down to catch her lips for a second time. This time it was her hands in his hair and wrapped them around his head, bringing him down closer. Her fingers mimed his and just as he had done earlier, her fingers trailed their way down his neck and applied pressure there, she heard him moan a little across her lips and felt him arch more towards her touch. Her hands, now flattened out right below his neck, slowly made their way to his broad shoulders and rested on them. Long painter like fingers traced small designs onto his shoulder blades and the pad of her thumb rubbed over a large scar. The scarred bumped up skin contrasted sharply with the rest of his body; rough and calloused against smooth and unmarred. Her hands, knowing the map of his back, made their way down to his hips and each small palm wrapped around the narrow sharp bones there. Dean's hands were placed on her back as well, both large palm fit on the small of her back perfectly and brough her closer to him, almost crushing her into his body. From the outside of the pool, they must have looked like one oddly shaped being; they fit perfectly together. Tate's head could be tucked right under Dean's chin and at that moment, Tate remembered it was and her lips were attached to his throat, running over the collum of muscle and the wet black cord of his necklace. The charm that hung off of it was smushed between their bodies and left indentation marks in Tate's chest. Her own pooka shell choker was recieving the same treatment, Dean's lips running over it. As he arched backwards to pick her up out of the water and one of her long legs slid around his hip, she heard a cough; something wasn't right.

Blinking a few times, watching the sight of her and Dean in her Aunt Sophia's pool ebb back to the kid filled water that sat in front of her. Part of her clawed and attempted to reach out for the last tiny wisps of the memory, but they were too far gone. With a pained expression she pried her eyes off of the water and looked back up into the sun. The shadow blacken figure looked down at her and smiled. She knew right away who it was and what he wanted, but she didn't want to leave yet, she was still somewhere on Memory Lane and was about to make the turn of to the Point of No Return.

"Come on Tate, we gotta go." Sam said. Tate looked up at him, her eyes almost blazing yet there was this far away look that still haunted them. "What's wrong ?" He asked as he kneeled near the lounger.

"Nothing, I was just thinking."

"About Dean?" Normally she'd fight him, but this time she smiled and looked him dead in the eye.

"Yes about Dean and you, my darling, have the worst timing in the world." She told him as they both stood and turned toward the gates.

"Okay, what does that mean?" He asked; an eye brow arched.

"I was getting to the good part and you showed up. Just like when we were kids." She muttered as she stood and followed him back inside. She slid past him as she walked out of the gate and looked back at him with a smile on her face. Sam knew that smile and right away began regretting asking her about it.

"OH! Don't even tell me Tate. That's my brother! And I here enough from him, I don't need to hear it from you now too! Can we just go meet these people and not discuss this?"

"Of course we can Sammy."

"And please, do not bring this up at lunch."

"Sam, you know what happens in my head stays in my head." She told him as she pinched him on the cheek and headed up to the hotel room.

Note: I'll be going on vacation in two weeks and I plan, as long as the ideas keep coming, to update as much as I can before July 21st. After that, most likely there won't be another update til the beginning of August. Just giving you all a heads-up. B.E17