Chapter 7

Lyra eased herself into the bath. Sighing she lay back letting the hot water cover her. She had done what she'd thought was needed. What was best for the objective. Her father had said it would increase her power threefold. It was hard to tell yet, she was so damned tired.

So if she'd done it just for the empowerment, why had she brought him back here afterwards? Back to her flat over the occult shop. And done it five more times? No wonder she was exhausted.

oo00oo

Dean was driving his car. As he approached the town limit sign his gas foot faltered, swerving off onto the shoulder of the road he hit the brakes.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Sam looked at his older brother.

Looking disconcerted Dean shook his head slowly. "I can't leave yet. I can't leave her."

"I love you, Dean." Sam's lips moved but it was Lyra's voice.

"What the fu…" Dean woke startled. A gentle breeze blew the bedroom curtains. It was daytime and he was alone in the bed. It still smelled of Lyra's perfume. Closing his eyes he inhaled deeply. He couldn't get enough of her.

Sitting up in bed he swung his feet to the floor. He had no idea what time it was. He didn't care. The bedsprings creaked a little as he stood up. He heard her voice through the half open door.

"I'm in the bath," she called to him.

oo00oo

Lyra's laugh bounced off the tiles of the bathroom. The light-hearted sound made Dean smile.

"So then what happened?" she asked.

"Well, we weren't sure what we'd done. We were afraid we might have fried the poor guy's whole herd."

Dean was telling the story while lying in the bath. Lyra lay in front of him reclined against his chest listening.

She gasped, "You didn't! Did you?"

"No, we didn't. But nothing ever bothered his farm again."

"So," Lyra began slowly. "You and Sam just travel around the country helping people out with their… paranormal problems?"

"Yeah. That's about it."

"You make a living from this?"

It was Dean's turn to laugh. "Not really."

"So it's more of a hobby then?"

"Mmmm," Dean paused not sure how much more he should reveal. He'd probably told her too much already. Way more than he'd ever told any other girl.

Sensing he didn't want to be pushed Lyra changed the subject. "Well, it's nice that you get to work with your brother. Kind of a family business thing, hm?"

"Yeah." Dean's tone changed. He stared darkly at the bathroom ceiling.

Lyra shifted between his legs, bathwater lapping against the sides of the tub as she turned to face him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," trying to lighten his tone.

"I didn't mean to pry."

"You're not." Kissing her forehead he asked, "What about your family business?"

A shadow passed over Lyra's face, "My family business?"

"The witchcraft shop."

"Oh," looking relieved Lyra continued. "That's really just a hobby. Something Dad and I do to keep busy."

"You seem pretty busy." Dean didn't want to wreck the moment with another fight about her dark dealings with Mitch. Silence hung awkwardly in the bathroom for a second. Had he opened that can of worms? Why shouldn't he?

"I guess," she began, trying to find some common ground. "We both have pretty strange families."

Appreciating the truce they'd struck he smiled, curling a long whisp of her hair around his finger. "The Addams and the Munsters have nothing on us."

"You wanna see something cool?" Lyra asked.

"Sure."

Smiling she rose from the bath and handed Dean a towel.

"Dry off," she instructed him. "It's in the living room."

oo00oo

"How old is this thing?" Dean asked picking up the scrying mirror to inspect it closer.

"Old," replied Lyra.

"But how old?" Dean turned the mirror over to examine the back.

"I'm not sure but it's been in my family for centuries."

"What's this language written on the back?"

Lyra leaned her head towards Dean's. He could smell her shampoo, her hair still damp from the bath. Frowning slightly she ventured, "Egyptian maybe?"

"Holy crap." Dean set the mirror back on the table carefully. "So can you use it?"

"Oh yes. You have to look at it from an angle, not straight on. Are you okay from there?"

Dean adjusted his chair slightly. "Okay," he replied.

"Now just kind of let your mind relax and focus on the mirror. Don't look at it. But rather, try to look through it. Like you're looking across a room to the back wall."

"Uh huh," cocking a sceptical eyebrow.

"Just shut up and concentrate, Dean."

He liked the way she said his name. She barely had any Scottish accent left after the years spent living in the States but a few words had a charming inflection to them.

While Dean was focussed on the scrying mirror, Lyra watched his face to make sure he was concentrating. Green eyes narrowed as he at least pretended to make an effort. His hair was disheveled but looked good. Bedhead definitely suited him. Unshaven for at least a day, light stubble covered the cleft in his handsome chin. His lips looked even pinker with the dark contrast of his stubble. A smile crept across his gourgeous mouth.

"Can this thing tell me if the Chiefs will win a Superbowl in my lifetime?"

She couldn't keep her hands off him any longer. Pushing his chair back from the table she stradled his lap. Clasping his face in her hands she kissed him hard. He responded by undoing the front closure of her robe and running his warm hands up her bare back. She loved the way he touched her. Breaking their kiss, she was a little breathless.

"Hey," he was panting slightly too. "This is exactly what I saw in the mirror."

"Shut up and kiss me, Dean."

oo00oo

Gasping for air Lyra drifted back to consciousness. Her mind reeling from her climax, her heart pounding. Placing a soft kiss on her breast, Dean rolled off her trying to regain his own breathing.

"Wow," was all he could manage.

They were back in her bed. They'd made their way back from the living room romp via a quickie up against the kitchen counter. Finally enjoying a long, slow tryst amidst her down duvet.

Dean noticed the light through the window growing golden. Lyra's phone rang in the living room.

"I should get that," stumbling from the bed she threw a short Japanese silk robe around herself.

Feeling suddenly guilty, Dean had the urge to call Sam. God knows what he must be thinking. Actually, Dean reflected, you didn't have to be a psychic wonder to guess where he was. But still he should probably get going.

"Okay, I get it." Hearing the irritation in Lyra's voice Dean wondered if it was Mitch on the phone as he pulled his jeans on.

"I'll be there. See you tonight." Lyra hung up the phone.

Pulling his t-shirt over his head Dean walked into the living room. Tension hung in the air.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah, fine. You going?"

"Yeah, I should probably catch up with Sam."

"Okay."

"Okay, then."

Tempted to ask about her evening's plans, Dean resisted. Lightly grasping her hand he looked her in the eye.

"Take care tonight," he said simply.

"I will. Thanks," she replied managing a small smile.