Rachel opened her eyes.

The room was dimly lit. There was a strong, sterile smell in the air. A machine beeped. The sheets were scratchy.

Hospital.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

She felt as if she'd been run over by a bus. Her entire body ached. Her skin hurt.

"Oh, crap," she swore, looking at her arms.

The were wrapped loosely in gauze, but one of her wrists poked through. The skin was bright red and covered in small, ugly blisters.

"It's not that bad."

She turned. Dean was sitting in a chair by her bed a newspaper, open on his lap. On the other side of the room was Sam, sprawled across two chairs, mouth opened, snoring.

"Where's my father?" she asked.

"He went to pick your mom up at the airport. He left about thirty minutes ago." He folded the paper and set it aside; Rachel noticed that one article had a huge red circle around it.

Her heart sank.

"So," she said. "What happened to Ki... the kitsune."

Dean looked at her a moment before answering. "He's gone. When you cut his tail off, he imploded in on himself and vanished. Your dad isn't sure if he's gone for good or not. He thinks there's a possibility that it'll hang around in the ether for a few thousand or so years before getting enough power to shapeshift back. Or, maybe, it'll have just enough energy to make itself human again, this time without life-sucking abilities." He swallowed and moved the chair closer to her bed. "And, if it's the second, maybe he'll come back to you."

She blinked, shocked. "Why would he do that?"

"Well, you heard him. He wants to stay with you. You know, be with you. Have kids and all that."

"I don't want to have kids with a kitsune," Rachel said. "I don't even know if I want kids."

"Yeah, but, you said you loved him."

"Well, a part of me did, sort of. I liked being with him. Liked being with someone that wasn't threatened by the fact I'm a brainiac and awkward and sexually inexperienced. I mean, guys in college tend to be really focused on getting into bed as fast as possible. And I'm not like that. And Kit never made me feel like that. So, yeah, I guess I loved that about him. But that doesn't mean I'd want to be with him."

Dean looked at her from under his eye lashes. "He seemed perfect for you."

Rachel slid from under the covers and stood on the cold tile floor. "Dean, look at me. I'm burned, I'm dehydrated, and I'm in a hospital because my boyfriend was part fire. Call me crazy, but that's not what I look for in a man."

"And what do you look for?"

She stepped between his legs. His hands came to her waist, holding her carefully. "I know you're dangerous to be around."

"You're the one always taking the stupid risks."

"Yeah, but I mean." Rachel swallowed. "Because of the... the you know."

"Right." Dean winced. "I forget sometimes. Christ. I can't believe I forgot with Cassie."

She leaned into him, her hands on his shoulders. "Okay, so maybe that was gross negligence. Or maybe it's unfair to expect you and Sam to close yourself off from life because of what happened."

"I don't want to be responsible for putting anyone in danger," Dean said sharply.

"I know. But I think I've proven most effectively that I am perfectly capable of putting myself in danger without your help. And I may not be able to handle myself perfectly, but I'm learning."

"So, what are you saying? Are you asking to come with me and Sam?"

"Well. No. Because you're leaving, when? Tomorrow morning? And I have graduation in a week with a bunch of relatives flying out to celebrate. I can't miss that."

Dean looked shamefaced. "How did you know?"

"I know what a circle in a newspaper means, Dean." She ran her fingertips through the hair over Dean's ear. "Where are you going?"

"Drake, North Dakota. Something is pushing cars onto the train tracks just in time for the train to run it flat. So far, there's been eight deaths. Teenagers out on make-out road suddenly find themselves on the tracks."

"They're not just being idiots?"

Dean shook his head. "There are some witnesses who saw the last couple making out as the car was moved. Another couple managed to get out before the train hit. So something's doing it."

"Isn't there an urban legend about ghosts who push cars off tracks?"

"Yeah, well, urban legend don't get much right."

"I've noticed." She ran her thumb over his ear. "So you're taking off."

"We have to go, Rachel. It's our job."

"It's not a job, Dean," Rachel corrected. "It's your duty. And I understand."

He sighed. Taking her had, he placed a gentle kiss on the palm. "We'll try to get back. Sam wants to see one person he considers family graduate."

Rachel laughed softly and glanced over at Sam, who had rolled over to face the wall. "I think he's awake," she whispered.

"Yeah. You know, it's not often, but every once in awhile, he tries to be a good brother and give me some privacy," Dean whispered back.

She leaned closer into Dean, heart in her throat. "Should we take advantage?"

"It'd be wrong not to." Dean kissed her softly.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch, stupid, stupid," she groaned. She pulled back touching her face gingerly. "Am I burnt all over?"

"Well, they wouldn't let me look, but..." He waggled his eyebrows.

Rachel socked him in the shoulder.

"Be nice," Dean warned, guiding her back to the bed. "It's no fair that I can't hit you back."

"So you're only being nice to me because I was almost burn to a crisp."

Oh. Wrong thing to say.

Dean's face shut down, became blank. His hand fell away from her, leaving Rachel to climb back into bed by herself.

He stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Dean, I..."

"Don't. Just... don't."

Across the room, Sam sat up. He exchanged looks with Rachel as he pushed his bangs from his eyes. He didn't look happy either, but he didn't take it so personal. Of course, his girl had already burned, while Rachel had just been singed.

So far.

The air in the room was oppressive. She could hardly breathe.

"Dean," Sam said warningly.

A muscle in Dean's jaw twitched as he clenched his jaw. Dean looked at her through dark eyes, swallowed hard. He turned and left the room.

"I can't believe I said that." She fell against the pillows and tugged the sheet over her face.

"Yeah, well, it applied to the situation." Sam tugged at the sheet, but Rachel refused to release it. "Come on, Rach. He'll get over it."

She snorted. "His mother died in flames. Your girlfriend died in flames. My boyfriend almost sets me on fire. It's like the gods couldn't help pointing out that I'm combustible. Is there a clearer sign that he shouldn't get involved than that?"

"Well, as far as I know, all of us are combustible. They haven't made a fire retardant human yet."

"Yeah, well, they've made plenty of retarded humans, me among them."

Sam yanked the sheet off her. "Don't. Dean's bad enough. I don't need any self-flagellation from you."

"Dean self-flagellates?"

"Is there any words in the English language that can't sound sexual?" he asked with a lopsided grin.

"Well, any kind of flagellation, in this day and age, has a dirty connotation." She sighed and lightly scratched at the tape around her IV. "So. On a scale of one to ten?"

"Eight. Maybe lower." Sam sat on the edge of her bed. "Look, I have a strict policy of non-interference with you two, but, uh, Dean had this girlfriend..."

"Cassie, I know. He told me. He also told me she's seeing someone and it's serious."

Light bulb moment, obviously. "Oh," he breathed. "I wondered why he was acting like women were a dying species a month or so ago. He was hitting on everything with breasts. He's a flirt, no denying that, but after he hooked back up with Cassie, it was strictly non-engagement flirting."

She lay back against her pillow, suddenly tired. "Are all Winchester men this skittish?"

He shrugged. "Dunno." Carefully, he pulled the sheet and blanket over Rachel, tucking her in. "Dad never went after women, not even for a one nighter. The hunt consumed him, and he couldn't do that to Mom. And Dean's just, I don't know. Focused on family. On me and on finding Dad." Sam frowned. "Except, Dad's told us to stop looking, so now it's just me." He plucked at the blankets restlessly.

Rachel stopped his fingers. She took his hand in hers, squeezed, and caressed his knuckles with her thumb. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"You lost your mom, your girlfriend, you dad. And you don't know why. And Dean's lost everything he's ever had, too, only you came back." She squeezed again. "I imagine it's a little hard for you, huh."

Sam blinked. "I don't... Huh?"

"I don't know. I'm sick. I don't make sense. I was just thinking that, out of all the people that you all have lost, you, Sam, are the only one who's come back. So Dean probably holds onto you extra tight."

"And has a harder time letting others in." Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Some days, I really, really hate my life." He dropped his hand and looked back up. "Dean is pushing for us to go."

"I think it's probably for the best. Give him time to remember that I'm just an idiot who needs to think before she speaks before you have a sudden psychic attack and need to get back ASAP to talk to my grandpa."

A smile curled Sam's lips. "Why, Miss Rachel Adams, you are positively evil."

"It runs in the family. We are the Adams family, you know. And don't think my family doesn't make a most out of that fact at every family reunion."

"Yet another reason to time my attack during your graduation."

"I shouldn't have told you that, huh?"

"Crazy and they're kooky. Mysterious and spooky."

"I hate you, rifle boy."

"They're all together ooky."

"Ah, you taught him our family song," Dr. Adams said, walking into the room with his wife.

Rachel groaned. "Daaad!"

Sam laughed.

"Are you okay, pumpkin?" Her father crossed the room and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'm okay. Hey, Mom. How was Italy?"

"Not as dangerous as school, so I hear." She kissed Rachel gently and turned to Sam. "Hi. I'm Maria."

"Sam." He shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you. My daughter tells me you're a psychic. My father and oldest sister are too. I imagine it must be hard."

Sam shrugged. "Sometimes. It sort of comes and goes. The hardest was this time I had this vision about my brother."

Understanding flitted across Maria's face. "One time my sister had a vision of me getting electrocute when my radio fell into the shower with me. She barely recovered in time to save me."

"Wow." Sam shivered and crossed his arms over his chest. "That... Yeah."

Maria smiled sympathetically and touched Sam's face. "Thank you for taking care of my little girl. I know she can be a handful."

"Yeah, well, it's fun. Except when her boyfriend is turning into a fiery fox."

"Yes, well, you know how it is with our types."

"Our types?" Dean was in the doorway, appearing out of nowhere, cup of coffee in his hand.

Rachel's parents both turned. "Ah, Dean, I was wondering where you were," Dr. Adams said. "Maria, this is Dean."

Dean entered the room and shook her hand, very politely, but he kept his distance otherwise. And he wouldn't look at Rachel.

"Yes," Maria said. She looked from Dean to Rachel and back. "If you deal in the supernatural, it seems to deal right back with you. Seek you out, as it were."

"Now that's just stupid. Folk all around the country get hit by supernatural crap every day. Are you telling me they all deal with it?"

"If you did far enough back, many of these people will have crossed something not quite of this earth."

"Yeah, and if you go far back enough, you're connected to Kevin Bacon," Dean replied. "I still say your theory needs work."

Maria looked like she didn't know what to say. That never happened, ever, in the entirety of Rachel's life.

"Sam, we should get going. I want to get to Drake before the next train."

"You're leaving?" Dr. Adams sounded surprised. He looked at Rachel, who shrugged.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. There's something pushing kids onto train tracks. Weekends. Saturday nights, twelve, twelve exactly." He shrugged. "Should be an easy job, once we find out what it is."

"I thought you were staying for... ouch! Rachel." Her father pulled his arm away and rubbed the spot she'd pinched.

"Thanks for you help, Dean," she said, throat aching. "I appreciate it."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well. No problem."

"Um, Mrs. Adams..."

"Maria," she corrected Sam. "Call me Maria."

"Right. Can I, uh, ask you and Dr. Adams something? Out in the hall?"

Dr. Adams took his wife by the arm and tugged at her. "Of course, Sam."

Sam leaned over quickly and kissed Rachel on the cheek. "Bye, sis," he whispered. "I'll be feeling the attack soon."

"Take care." She watched as Sam dragged her parents to the hall, leaving her and Dean alone.

"Oh, real subtle," Dean said.

"He doesn't want you to leave with things messed up between us."

"There is no us."

"There's you and there's me. That makes an us. Whatever else we may not be, we are friends."

He looked down and away from her.

"I expect you to call me, Dean As a friend. Just so I know you're okay." She licked her lips. "And don't wait until you're dying, either."

"Yeah, well. You have a phone, too. You have my number."

"Will you answer? Will you talk to me?"

Dean looked at her and nodded.

"Okay then." She climbed out of bed again. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much that he needed to hear. But it was too much, and she just wasn't that brave.

So, she just put her hand on his shoulders and stood on her toes. "Take care of yourself." She kissed the corner of his mouth. "And take care of Sam."

Unexpectedly, his arm came around he waist. He pulled her close.

His lips were warm. He tasted like coffee.

"Doesn't change anything," Dean whispered against her lips. He kissed her again. "Take care." And then, Dean was gone.

End.