Chapter 7

Watertown, South Dakota

Katherine Emily Cooper.

The memories were all there. The knowledge. The skills. All there, waiting to be used.

It looked in the mirror and saw a slender woman, elegant and beautiful in an austere way: porcelain-fine pale skin with a barely there scattering of freckles, and large dark grey eyes. Long, ash blonde hair. Wiry strength in the slim limbs and long-fingered hands.

Hunter.

Turning away from the mirror, it began to dress, pulling on jeans and buttoning the cotton shirt as it picked through the most recent memories, those prior to the attack and bombing.

…driving along the interstate…headed east…from a place where the forests and farmland were rich and green, over the mountains…a sign appeared in recall…welcome to…Oregon…it could almost see the name of the little town, with its waterfalls and wooden frame houses, and the little church…there was Chuck's Gas station…the schoolhouse and grounds…Scotts Mills.

It smiled and picked up keys and wallet from the nightstand, leaving the room. It would take two days to drive there. It was a risk, of course, that the original had already arrived, or had warned them about the possibility of a copy. An acceptable risk, given the potential of the situation. She'd been injured, and might well take two or three days to recover sufficiently to return to the base. And even if she hadn't, even if she'd arrived and told them, it wasn't that easy to kill.

Lewistown, Pennsylvania

Twist eased himself into the narrow opening in the street. They were half a block from Roman's building. "Read about it somewhere a few months ago. New buildings get their phone, comms and power via the sub-basement, to prevent criminal activities, apparently."

Adam handed him the bag, now stuffed full. "Twist, you need back up in there. We should be going with you."

Twist shook his head. "No, won't take me long and one's quieter and sneakier than two. You two keep a watch here."

He climbed down into the narrow conduit, and put the bag ahead of him. From the comms plans, he should only have about a hundred yards to go, then he'd be inside.

Adam and Duvsha closed the manhole cover and walked down the street to the car in silence. While neither was thrilled about letting Twist handle this on his own, neither could think of a good reason to argue against the experienced hunter.

Twist wormed his way slowly through the tunnel, the pen light in his hand showing little detail of the space. He reached the upshaft after ten minutes, wiping the sweat from his face and sitting up awkwardly in the tight confines of the tunnel and shaft. He wouldn't go higher than the subbasement, he thought. He could bring down the whole building quite tidily by taking out the foundations.

The fine grating that gave access to the cabling was screwed down, and he pulled out his tools, using a pair of pliers to start the screws from the underneath then turning them by hand. He lifted the grate and looked around. The area was empty, a few panels on one wall showing the building's connections were all in order. Each major foundation pier was numbered and colour coded.

Painting by numbers, he thought delightedly. He climbed out of the shaft and unzipped his bag, pulling out the wrapped blocks and carrying them to the pylons. Semtex had been designed for demolition work. The blast would shear the pylons and bring the building down as neatly as a house of cards. He whistled softly under his breath as he worked, packing the blocks and inserting the detonators. In five minutes, he'd finished the subbasement area.

He gave a final glance around, then dropped the bag into the hole, climbing down and pulling the grating back over the top. He'd be almost out when they went off, he thought. Far enough away that the blast wave wouldn't disintegrate his brain tissue, at any rate.

Rochelle, Illinois

The narrow white van had peel off decals on either side, advertising interior design. It was parked in the driveway of a house that had been on the market for three years, and the residents of the small neighbourhood showed no curiosity in it at all. Inside, Laney scowled at the image of the building on the next ridge, clearly visible through the telephoto lens of the camera mounted at the rear doors. Police and fire personnel were crawling over it, along with an army of men in dark suits. It looked very much like an ant's nest that had been stirred up.

Next to the camera, Shamsiel crouched behind the tinted glass, pointing a device out the window.

"Anything?" Laney asked.

"Not so much as a spark or twitch of current," the Watcher replied. "It is completely inert."

There was a soft snort from the driver's seat, and Laney flicked a sharp glance at her partner. "So the job's done?"

The muted buzz of her cell in her coat pocket distracted her. She punched in the code and then answered the call.

"Yeah?"

"Laney? It's Ellie."

Laney switched to speaker and set the phone down. "Hon, you callin' in to check on us? Turn on the TV."

"No, to ask you if you can take on another target," Ellie said over a line crackle.

"Say again?" Laney responded. "Thought you said we had another target?"

"That's what I said."

"Damn." Laney heaved a sigh as she realised she'd have to call her mother again. "Where is it?"

"I'm sorry," Ellie said. "Butte."

"What happened to Katherine?"

"Problem. I'll fill you in later."

"Gimme a minute." She took the phone off speaker and looked at Moses. "Can you call Mom and see if she can keep the girls for another three-four days?"

He nodded and Laney put the phone back to her ear. "Moses is just checking for me."

"I'm really sorry, Laney, you're the closest, everyone else is at least three days' drive—"

"I know, hon, it's fine."

Moses turned in the seat. "It's okay," he said. "They're going to Disneyland."

Stifling a laugh, Laney lifted her phone. "We'll do Butte, Ellie. Then we'll drop the boys off. After that, you're on your own for a while."

"HUA, Laney, thanks."

"No problem." She ended the call and turned to the Watcher and her partner. "Let's pack it up and head out. It'll take a day to get to Butte anyhow. We'll leave the van with you boys to get back to Oregon and we'll fly out from Bozeman or Missoula."

Gleason, Wisconsin

Sam leaned back against his duffle and looked at the schematics and images on his phone, his brow creased with concentration and worry.

"What's wrong?" Chaz, crouched a few feet away, looked concerned.

Sam shook his head, lifting his phone by way of explanation. "This place is better guarded than Fort Knox." His gaze returned to the small screen, a scowl settling over his features. "Ellie's come up with a couple of ideas, but they're going to depend on a lot of things, most of which are going to be out of our control."

"What can we do about that?" Tricia drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. "We're here, there must be something?"

"To be honest? I'm not sure," Sam admitted.

He got to his feet and picked up his bag. "Come on, we gotta get organised."

Chaz rose, following the tall hunter back down the trail to the road. He wasn't sure he liked the resigned set of Sam's shoulders, or the tension in his face.

10:45 pm. Scotts Mills, Willamette Valley, Oregon

Seated and in conversation with the Watchers, Bezaliel, Baraquiel and Talya around the dining table, Ellie looked up when Dean entered, her gaze sharpening as he was followed by a slightly built and rumpled-clothed woman holding a small overnight case. Baraquiel and Bezaliel rose from their seats, and Dean waved them back down.

"This is Cassie Robinson." His gazed turned to Ellie as Cassie stopped close beside him. "Cassie, this is Ellie; and Baraquiel, Bezaliel and Talya."

In her early thirties, and when not bowed down by flights, airport grunge and a rushed hour's drive, Ellie thought Cassie was quite likely the most lovely woman she'd ever seen in real life. It shouldn't have mattered, but her memories of the conversations about how Dean had felt about this woman flashed into her mind, bringing a thread of unease. She pushed memories and emotion away in irritation. That was then, this is now and even if it wasn't, there were more important things to worry about.

Cassie nodded tiredly at each of them, turning back to Ellie when she said, "I'm glad you made your flight."

"I was too."

Dean pulled out a chair and gestured to it. When Cassie sat down, he walked around the table, stopping next to Ellie. "Cassie said that she was investigating disappearances in Tennessee that all tied to Roman when she heard about the bombs. She already knew some of the properties belonged to Roman Enterprises, that's how she put it together so quickly."

Ellie leaned toward Cassie. "What kind of disappearances?"

The other woman's gaze flicked briefly to Dean before she answered. "Historians, archaeologists, a curator … it didn't seem random."

"No." Ellie thought about them, an idea forming as to what Dick Roman might have wanted with historians and museum curators. "What were their specialities?"

"Ancient Middle East. Uh, Persia, Sumeria, that period." Cassie sat stiffly, her eyes shifting back to Dean.

Ellie leaned back, raising a brow at Baraquiel. "He doesn't have the ritual."

"Perhaps. Yes, it might be that way." He shook his head. "Why would he think that humans would have found it?"

"Clutching at straws? I don't know." Ellie rubbed a finger over the bridge of her nose, the last eighteen hours of reading and worrying and trying to come up with plans without all the needed details dropping onto her. She needed some tea and some sleep. There were probably dozens of reasons for the Leviathan to have lost track. Being consigned to Purgatory for hundreds of thousands of years might have been one of them. "He was around before any of this, before angels or demons, before people. Maybe things changed too much while they were locked away?"

Dean's disbelieving look flashed between them. "You're saying he's got the bowl but doesn't know what to do next?"

Ellie nodded. "God knows why, but yeah, that's what it sounds like." She turned in the chair to look up at him. "You better call Sam; tell him not to go ahead until we can figure this out."

Dean walked away, pulling his phone and Ellie turned back to Cassie, wondering what Dean had thought to do with her. "You must be tired."

Cassie ignored the question, her gaze dropping pointedly on Ellie's hand. "You're Dean's wife?"

"Do you still have your notes on the people who disappeared?" She decided it might be better to pretend not to hear the edge to Cassie's voice. Memory and emotion could still play havoc with her emotions, thanks to the hormones. They didn't need a scene of any kind. "Did you notice anything out of the ordinary about them?"

"We're looking for the same thing," Talya added tactfully from the other side of the table. "The more information we can get hold of, the better our chances are."

"Chances for what?" Cassie asked, turning to look at the nephilim. "Who are you people again?"

"Dean didn't explain?" Ellie asked, keeping her tone neutral.

"He said I was in danger," Cassie said. "He told me I'd be safe here."

"Safer than where you were," Baraquiel commented. "We are hunting the monsters who are seeking you."

"I know it's not easy to get a handle—" Ellie said.

"My notes are on my computer – in Charlotte." Cassie straightened in the chair. "The people who disappeared were very experienced, respected people in their fields, but I wouldn't have said that they were the top people; there are more qualified experts in New York, in Europe."

"The top people are harder to make vanish without a lot of questions." Ellie got to her feet and pushed back her chair. "Do you have a permanent connection on your computer?"

"Yeah, cable. Why?" Cassie's eyes widened. "When are you due?"

"Two weeks," Ellie said. "And I need your notes, so we'd better go and see if I can get them."

She turned back to the Watchers. "We should see if we can find out anything more about the black beast and why they can't remember their own rituals?"

Bezaliel looked at her. "The prophecy says it is, but I don't think that Penemue found anything more about it."

"Maybe he did, but he didn't realise it, or he didn't see the connections or relationships. It's here somewhere, Bezaliel. I know it is."

She walked out of the room, glancing back to see that Cassie was following, and continued down the hall to the basement stairs.

The trust that should have been there, should have been rock solid, wasn't quite, she thought. It was still too easy to remember how she'd felt, seeing him come out of the club in Seattle. The impressions she'd already picked up from Cassie weren't helping with that much. Dean had told Cassie something of his life.

"When did you meet Dean?" Cassie asked from behind her.

Ellie let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. It wasn't up to her, she thought, it was up to him. She could trust in him, or not, but it was up to him. She glanced back at the woman following her.

"A few years ago. On a case."

"Oh. So are you a—you, uh, do what he does?" Cassie asked as they descended the stairs, and Ellie pushed open the door. Under the house, the room was softly lit, not quite silent with the low hum of the machines, and the temperature even and unnoticeable.

"Yes." Ellie took a seat at the terminal desk. She logged in and pulled up Ray's software, initiating it. The virtual network had nothing for a system to track in the real world, just a series of shifting and changing nodes on the internet. It was the safest way to access other machines. "Here we go."

"Did he tell you about me?" Cassie dragged another chair over and sat down beside her, her gaze on the monitor. "About us, I mean?"

"He said you told him that you didn't see much hope for a future together." Ellie stifled a sigh as she pulled the keyboard closer. "Who's your internet provider?"

"Clearwire." Cassie said. "He told me he'd see me again."

"I guess he didn't lie, then." Ellie accessed the ISP and hit the break key, running Ray's break-and-enter program to gain access to the server. She watched commands execute as the software searched for code holes.

"This could take a few moments," Ellie said. "Are you hungry?"

"No. Am I staying here?"

The software beeped and the internet service provider's database query page filled the screen. Ellie typed in Cassie's name and the database returned her records. She noted the login and password and returned to the main login screen, entering them in the fields to access the account.

"We'll have to work that out," she told Cassie.

"Is that my account?" Cassie leaned closer to the screen.

"You'll never be able to use it again," Ellie reminded her. "Excuse me."

She leaned past Cassie and called up the remote access program on the second terminal, directing the software to the open connection via Cassie's modem. "Do you have a login and password on your personal computer?"

"No."

"Okay."

On the second screen, a file directory scrolled up. "Where are the notes?"

"In the Work folder. Under RomanR."

Navigating to the folder, Ellie opened it and selected the files. She hit CTRL-C and the files began to copy, a progress bar indicating how long it would take. Ellie watched it absently, too aware of the woman beside her, the field of unspoken mines between them.

Cassie watched Ellie's profile from the corner of her eye, lit up by the flickering screen. She was beginning to see what Dean saw in this woman, her cool practicality and obvious competence could have been intimidating, but she seemed to assume that everyone was just as switched on as she was, and the inclusion brought an odd feeling of camaraderie. It didn't ease the stab of pain much, the feeling that she'd missed out on what she'd wanted without ever even knowing it. She turned as she heard footsteps on the stairs behind them.

"Sam's coming back." Dean halted behind the long desk, his gaze on Ellie. "He, uh, said that the place is locked down pretty tightly."

"Yeah, well, he's not wrong." Ellie leaned forward and starting typing as the progress indicator disappeared. Along the other wall, a printer in the row of printers beeped softly and starting feeding paper.

"So what happens to me now?" Cassie stood up, and walked over to stand beside Dean. His attention remained on Ellie, who was concentrating on the screen in front of her, and he shrugged.

"We'll have to find someplace safe for you to stay for a while. Get you off the grid."

The flare of anger at him was irrational but she didn't try to curb it.

"I have a life that I worked hard for, back in Charlotte, Dean." Wild horses could not have dragged from her the admission that she'd only followed his instructions because she'd wanted to see him again. "You want me to throw that away?"

His expression, as he ran his hand over his hair, was tightly held frustration. "You want to take the chance that you won't lose more than your job if you go back?"

In that moment, Cassie saw that Dean's frustration wasn't with her, but with himself. She saw that clearly. He didn't want her there, and he was kicking himself for making decisions that hadn't been thought all the way through, she realised. The realisation stung.

"Other reporters have taken up the story now, maybe I'll be safe to go back? Maybe you're just exaggerating the danger." She wasn't sure if she believed that or not.

"He's not," Ellie said, getting to her feet and turning to face her. "Roman's track record for killing those he doesn't like, who get in his way, or who are just considered a nuisance is real. None of his plans are short term. But it's your choice."

She walked past Cassie to the printer and pulled the printouts from it, tucking them against her side. When she turned around again to look at Dean, her face was expressionless.

"She'd probably be fairly safe with Missouri, if you can't think of anyone else."

"I just got here," Cassie said. "I'm not turning around and going to Missouri."

"With Missouri, a friend of ours," Dean said impatiently. "Not in Missouri."

He could see the strain on Ellie's face as he walked over to her, the little lines of tension around her mouth, could hear the exhaustion in her voice. He took the printouts from her.

"You okay?"

She looked up at him and he saw—something—there, in her eyes, an entreaty of sorts that made him take a step closer.

"Where's this friend?" Cassie asked.

The look vanished and Ellie dropped her gaze, turning for the stairs. Dean's grip tightened on the papers in his hand. He bit back the desire to ignore Cassie and catch up to his wife. It'd been his decision to bring her here and he'd have to wear whatever the costs were. He should've known it would be difficult. Cassie had always been difficult.

"She's in Kansas. But for the moment, there's a spare room upstairs."

"I'm not going to Kansas either," Cassie said, raising her voice.

Dean shook his head. "Then grab your stuff."

He followed Ellie up the stairs, not bothering to look around. She could stay in the basement for all he cared. He didn't know what Cassie had said to Ellie while he'd been talking to Sam, but from the look Ellie had given him before leaving, he didn't think it'd gone all that well.

Lewistown, Pennsylvania

Twist climbed out of the subterranean access tunnel and pulled the steel cover back over the hole, then ran for the truck, a block up the street. Behind him, the building shuddered violently and collapsed into itself, sending a gout of fire into the air, and clouds of dust out from the lot.

Distantly, sirens sounded and in the streets around them, a dozen car alarms went off. Adam started the truck as Twist swung himself into the cab, and pulled away, heading north and west through the suburban streets in an unhurried fashion.

"That's done," Twist said smugly. "Take us out through the residential areas, Adam. We just want to look like a trade van heading early to a job."

Adam nodded. "Got a message from Ray while you were down there. Wisconsin's off the agenda for the time being."

"He say why?"

"Only that the priorities changed," Duvsha added.

"Good news all round." Twist leaned back in the passenger seat. "If you see a good motel once we're on the interstate, pull over. We should grab some shut-eye before we head back."

I-94 W, Wisconsin

"What did Dean say?" Tricia looked at Sam as the car sped along the wide road. She was relieved to be heading away from the building. All her internal alarms had gone off every time she'd looked at the place.

"He said Ellie and the Watchers think Roman's lost the ritual for the bowl." Sam shrugged.

"Isn't it his? From their time?" Chaz leaned forward, arm resting on the back of Tricia's seat.

"That's what I thought, but maybe not." Sam glanced into the mirror, meeting the Watcher's eyes.

"So now what?" Adina said quietly from behind him.

"We go home. See what we can find out about this ritual, I guess."

"Do we know how the others went?"

"I heard a news report this morning." Tricia half turned to look at the nephilim. "Two more of Roman's properties were hit last night."

"Still a few to go then." Chazaquiel leaned back. "And this monster, Roman, was onto it from the first one."

"Yeah, he reacted fast, but he wasn't expecting it." Sam nodded. "Only three of the fourteen targets had electrified fences and high level security. The rest were just normal security measures."

"So we hit two of the three." Tricia looked from Chaz to Sam. "That's not bad."

"I think, Sam, that we'll need to talk to Castiel about this bowl," Chaz said.

Sam's brow creased up again. "We did ask him, he didn't know anything about the Leviathans, not even when he was carrying them."

"Then Michael."

"Yeah."

Tricia heard the reservation in Sam's voice and wondered what it meant. "You don't think Michael will help? Even after Ellie and Dean got him out of Hell?"

"He's not exactly known for his expression of gratitude," Sam said diffidently and Tricia saw him exchange a look with Chaz through the rearview mirror, the Watcher's expression pensive.

11:30 pm. Scotts Mills, Willamette Valley, Oregon

Dean left the papers on the dining table next to Ellie when she rejoined Baraquiel and Talya there. He'd wanted to talk to her, wanted to ask about what he'd seen in her eyes, what she was feeling, but he had the strong sense that whatever it was, she wouldn't talk to him about it now. With Cassie on his heels, he turned to the kitchen.

"So, you're going to be a father as well." Cassie leaned against the scrubbed pine table, as Dean pulled two beers from the fridge.

"Yeah." He tried to keep his expression blank, but he could feel the faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth with the thought. It was so close now, he wasn't sure if he should be scared or excited.

He passed a beer to Cassie and walked out on the porch, knocking the top off and drawing in a deep breath of the crisp night air. Nothing he'd planned for six months had come to fruition and everything he wanted in this world was still a hostage to the fates. He wondered what the stress levels were doing to him.

Cassie came up and stood beside him, looking out over the distant lights of the valley below them. The lights from the kitchen windows were behind them.

"I was wrong about you."

He stepped back a little as he turned his head to look at her, unable to see her expression but hearing more than a faint hint of regret in her voice.

"I thought you'd be on the road, doing what you do, more or less forever." She turned toward him, and he could see a slight smile. "I didn't see you settling down."

He frowned as he tried to correct her impression. "Caught in between … everything we're caught in between, I don't think you could call it settling down."

"Isn't it?" Even facing him, her expression was half in shadow. "Are you happy?"

"Happiness doesn't really cover it," he said, turning away from her to look at the dark valley below. "When I met you, my family was everything to me, and when Sa—because something happened that took that away, I let myself forget how we lived."

He swallowed a mouthful of beer, wondering how to explain it without the detail. "It took me a long time to realise what I wanted, and that wasn't just to have someone or have a family or live in the past or any of the shit I'd been telling myself."

"What was it?" she asked.

"I wanted to find someone who wanted to know who I was," he said, his mouth pulling up at one side in open admission. "Just someone who I could be myself with."

Cassie frowned. "You had that with us—"

He laughed, and shook his head. "Sorry, I don't mean this to be a douche, but that was the last thing I had with you." He shrugged. "And that's okay, I mean, that's fine. We weren't right from the get-go. We were young and I was dumb."

She leaned back against the rail, one hand curling around his arm. "I don't think you're giving—"

"Dean?"

Dean turned around, taking a step toward Ellie, where she stood in the doorway. The kitchen light behind her hid her expression. "What is it?"

"I–I'm, uh, exhausted. Can you check in with Trent and Twist tonight?"

He nodded. "Yeah. No problem. Are you—"

"Thanks." Ellie turned her head slightly to Cassie. "Goodnight."

"'Night."

Cursing internally, Dean watched as she turned away, crossing the hall and going upstairs. He went to follow her, and Cassie caught his arm.

"Dean—wait."

"What?"

"It's been a while," she said, her hand around his wrist. "We could catch up?"

He shook off her hand, his concern for Ellie shifting to irritation as he recognised the expression in Cassie's eyes. "The hell, Cassie?"

For the first time, it crossed his mind that at least one of the reasons Ellie had most likely been pissed had to do with the way she'd perceived his reactions – getting Cassie here without following protocols, possibly endangering them for an old girlfriend.

He hadn't thought of the reporter like that, not for years. He hadn't even considered it, but obviously Cassie had, and Ellie would have picked up on it, would have seen it even if Cassie hadn't been poking and prodding at her down in the basement. Dammit.

He didn't know whether to laugh or take her back to Charlotte and dump her there. "You figure you missed out?"

She lifted her chin, her gaze direct. "I've missed you."

"I'm married, Cassie. Gonna be a dad." He met her eyes with the same directness. Whatever questions he'd had about them, they'd been laid to rest years ago. "I haven't missed you for a long time."

Cassie looked away and Dean wished he'd at least thought about this before he'd told her to come here. He really didn't have time for a post-mortem. Ellie's expression, that mute entreaty downstairs, made sense now and the only thing he wanted to do was to find her and get it sorted out. Cassie's misunderstandings could wait until tomorrow.

"I've gotta go." He turned away, putting the beer on the porch table beside the door as he went through it. There was a bang behind him he thought might have been a beer bottle hitting the table but he didn't stop to find out.

Crossing the hall, he headed for the stairs. The living room was still lit, the Watchers at the table. They would be up for awhile, they always were.

As he climbed the stairs, he wondered how he could have failed to see the implications of her reactions earlier, from the moment she'd shut him out. At the end of the upstairs hallway, their bedroom door was closed. He walked down to it. The room was dark and silent when he opened the door and went in, closing the door behind him. By the frame, he unlaced his boots and toed them off, then pulled off his socks, tossing them somewhere in the direction of the cane and cotton hamper. In his bare feet, he padded over to the bed and sat down.

"Hey."

The curtains were open and there was a little ambient light from the streetlights down the road, Ellie's shape just visible under the covers on the other side.

"Hey," her voice was muffled.

"What's going on?" He leaned over and turned on the lamp beside the bed.

"Could you turn that off, Dean? I'm just tired." She'd buried her face against the pillow, pulling the soft duvet up over her shoulder.

He switched the lamp back off, and laid down beside her, propping his head against his hand. "Come on, it's me. Tell me."

His sight adjusted to the darkness again and he saw her roll over. The smile she attempted for him masked the tension in her face briefly.

"You don't have to worry," she said, making a self conscious grimace at the words as she said them. Pushing herself a bit higher against the pillows, she gave him a shrug. "A lot of what I'm feeling is vulnerability, because of this." She smoothed a hand over her stomach. "It might not be the cause of the—emotional reactions—but it makes them all a lot worse than they would be under more normal circumstances?"

"Tell me what I need to do to help." He reached out to touch her face, his hand stilling when he felt moisture against the tips of his fingers. "Please."

Ellie turned her face away. "I'm not sure I know what's going on with you."

For a moment, he couldn't grasp what she meant, then he looked over his shoulder at the door. "With Cassie? Nothing. Nothing's going on."

"She doesn't agree."

"I know," he admitted. "Look, I didn't want her to get eaten by Dick, that's all it was, Ellie. But I panicked and I handled it the wrong way. I know that. If I could do it again, I'd have sent her somewhere else."

"Like you, she thinks it means something else." He pushed himself up, leaning on one arm to look down at her. "It didn't. It doesn't. Don't shut me out."

"I'm not. I was just—trying to get out of your way."

"What does that mean?" He tried to see her expression.

"It means that I want you to make your own choices."

In the gloom, her voice sounded small and uncertain. That wounded him more than anything else. The only times he'd ever heard uncertainty in her had been when he'd fucked things between them.

"I have made my choice. I made my choice when I asked you, when I stood next to you and made a vow…hell, I made a choice every day since I met you, even when I didn't know I was making it," he said, leaning closer and picking up her hand, holding it next to his so their rings were side by side. "I don't want anyone else, Ellie. I don't want anything else but what we have. Why would you think anything else?"

Her gaze dropped and understanding abruptly dawned for him, along with memories of seeing her pain, of his shame when he found out what she'd seen.

"Oh. That's why." He looked into her eyes and she didn't say a word.

It was in the past but it wasn't yet healed. He'd known that too, known there hadn't been the time to lay it all to rest, not in the way she'd wanted to, originally. They hadn't talked about it because there didn't seem to be a point. But that, he thought now, had been a mistake.

Ellie had been clear with him about the effects of the hormones circulating through her. They amped everything up, all the good and all the bad, sometimes until she had to retreat from everyone and everything and let the emotions run their course. There was no arguing reasonably against them, or logicking them away. She just had to deal with them. He should have remembered how easy it was for her to mistake concern for something more, should have been prepared for that.

Along with the other mistakes he'd been making.

He stretched out on his side next to her, looking into her face, his eyes haunted. "That'll never be over, will it?"

"It is over." Her breath gusted out softly. "The trust is still a little thin."

He rolled onto his back. "I guess I'll just have to live with that."

"Dean, please don't make this about my frailties."

He turned his head, then rolled onto his elbow, staring down at her. "Forsaking all others, keeping only unto her for as long as we both shall live. Those aren't just words, not to me."

Frustration bit into him again. "I know I'm not good at this stuff. You have to give me some credit for all I try to do, Ellie, when I fuck up sometimes. I didn't think…yeah, well, I didn't think, this time. It won't happen again."

Her expression was as soft as her voice. "I know."

"Then believe in me again, Ellie." He swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat "Please."

"I do," she protested. "I do believe."

"Then why—"

"It's something, Dean, something about Fate, something about our fates, something that I can't shake, can't forget, can't let go of," she said, the words tumbling out almost faster than he could understand. "I am afraid. All the time. And I don't know why, exactly, I can't pinpoint a source but everything feeds into it."

She sat up awkwardly, waving a hand at the window. "So when you do something odd, or someone says to me, are you sure about his feelings? Or we find another line from a world dead three thousand years, I can't just say—oh, this has nothing to do with it, this is okay—"

"Okay," he said, sitting up beside and folding her into his arms. "All right, I get it."

"I don't think you do." She was shaking against him. "I can't—I won't—fight for you right now. I can't separate real from not real or fear from reason. You have to do all the fighting for me."

He wasn't sure what she meant by that. "I will. I promise."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

That was good advice. He tried to see her face, but she was tucked in against his chest. "If I do anything, you'll know why."

He felt the tension run out of her, then, like an air from a released balloon or water from a spilled cup. Instead of the wire-taut shaking, there was stillness in his arms, her ribs rising and falling beneath his hold easily.

The first thing he had to figure out was where to send Cassie and how to get her there.