Warnings: Angst

Bamby

DPOV

I'd been fast asleep in my hotel bed when the sound of a truck's horn going off woke me up. I rolled over with a light groan, only to pause as my eyes landed on the bathroom door.

The door was open slightly. Sam was inside, pacing, looking away from me as he spoke on the phone. Whoever he was talking to, he obviously wanted to keep it a secret. How did I know this? By the way his shoulders were hunched slightly, and the fact he was keeping his voice low.

Sitting up to lean on my elbow, I watched him a moment longer, my suspicion growing. It had been some time since I started to realise he was acting strange again. I had a feeling of what might be going on, but I had no proof. Plus, I'd been a little too busy to question him or figure it all out for myself. The last few days hadn't exactly been easy…

Sam hung up then, moving to turn. I quickly laid back down, pretending to be asleep again. I didn't want him thinking I was on to him. I wanted him to tell me everything himself. We needed that trust.

A moment or so later, I heard him take a seat on his bed next to mine before he reached over to poke me. "Hey. Up and at 'em, kiddo."

Groaning, I shifted, rubbing my eyes as I pretended to wake up. "You're up early. What are you doing?"

"Nothing." He shrugged, gesturing to the bathroom over his shoulder. "I was in the can."

Pausing a moment, I looked at him questioningly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He grinned lightly. "You want me to draw you a picture?"

"Nah, I'll pass," I answered, running a hand over my face again.

"Found a job," he started, grabbing the newspaper from his bed to show me the article. "Bedford, Iowa. Guy beat his wife's brains out with a meat tenderizer."

"Yikes."

"And get this. Third local inside two months to gank his wife. No priors on any of 'em, all happily married."

"Ahh. Sounds like Ozzie and Harriet."

He gave a short laugh. "More like The Shining."

"All right, well I guess we'd better have a look." I dropped the paper and pulled my blanket off me as I sat up. "You wanna go get Liz?"

Sam just gave me a knowing look. "We both know you wanna do it, Dean." He grinned again.

He knew something had happened between Liz and me. When we'd been on that ghost job, back at our old school, he'd gone to talk to his old teacher and left us alone. Liz and I had snuck off to one of the janitor closets for some privacy. After, when we went back to Baby, Sam had been waiting. One look at us, and he could just tell.

I don't know if he knew exactly what had happened, but he at least had a sneaky suspicion. He never asked either of us or made any comments. All we got were a few grins and looks from him over the next few days.

Shaking my head, I got out of bed, moving to grab some clothes. "Shut up," I grumbled, which just made him laugh again, a little harder this time.

EPOV

The last time I felt like this was when the demon in Sam's body had forced me to drink their blood. But even then, I swear I hadn't felt this bad. It was like someone was in my head, playing the drums. My skin was hot, but I was cold. I was sweating, too. I couldn't stop shaking. When I was alone, I swear I was seeing things. My sleep patterns were all over the place. I could barely get a few hours rest without waking up.

Sam and Dean knew I wasn't feeling well. There were certain things I couldn't hide from them. But they didn't know the full extent of how I was feeling. I did a pretty good job at pretending I was fine when I really wasn't.

In the last few days, I'd gotten worse, which made everything harder to control. That's when Dean finally realised I was lying. He wasn't mad though, more upset and worried. He'd spent some time making sure I was okay. Sam still hadn't noticed. But seeing as he had his own secrets, I wasn't really surprised.

Yeah, I knew about all that. I wasn't sure what he was keeping from Dean and me, but I knew he was definitely up to something.

A knock on my door had me flinching and raising my hands to my ears, the noise hurting my already throbbing head.

"Liz, you in there?"

Dean hadn't liked the idea of me having my own room, but I'd insisted. I didn't want Sam realising how bad I actually was.

I was on the floor, in the corner, curled up in a ball. Halfway through the night I'd tossed and turned so much I'd fallen out of bed. It had hurt like Hell, which was enough to keep me from climbing back into bed. Instead, I'd grabbed a couple of pillows and my blanket, and set myself up in the corner.

"Liz?" Dean called again.

I stretched my arm up and twisted my hand in the direction of the door before letting my arm drop down to the ground once more. The lock slipped out of place before the handle turned ever so slightly to open the door a crack.

Taking that as an invitation, Dean opened the door a little more, poking his head inside. His eyes landed on me in an instant.

"Son of a-" Hurrying over, he dropped to his knees by my side. "Liz…" He lifted a hand to my forehead, checking my temperature. "You're burning up."

"I'm fine, Dean," I lied. Even as I said the words, my body leaned into him, seeking warmth despite the heat it was radiating. I was just so cold inside.

"No, you're not." Pulling back slightly, he looked me up and down. "We should get you to a hospital. You need to see a doctor."

Shaking my head lightly, I looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Dean, no. Please," I begged. "I can't. If Bobby finds out. Or Ellen. Or Jo." I shook my head. "They'll drop everything. I can't make them do that. It wouldn't be fair."

He sighed. "Liz-"

I cut him off, "I'll be fine as soon as I get some coffee and food in me. Just need something in my stomach and I'll be fine," I assured him as I started to shift, trying to get up. Seeing me struggle, Dean stood and helped me to my feet. "Thanks."

He clearly wanted to take me to the hospital still, but as he looked down at me, he knew there was no point in trying to convince me. I might have been ill and weak, but if I had to I'd fight him, and that would only make me worse.

"Okay." He nodded, hand pressed to my back to keep me standing. "Let's get you some food."

SPOV

Dean and I were dressed in our suits as we sat across from Mr Bensen, the guy who'd killed his wife with the meat tenderizer. While we interviewed him, Lizzie was booking us some rooms.

I hadn't said anything, but I'd noticed the way she and Dean were acting. Since Dean went to get her from her room at the hotel we'd been staying at before. While we were in the car driving to this case. When we'd left her at the new hotel. I could feel the tension. It wasn't the sexual tension they'd been giving off lately. No, this was because she wasn't well.

Sure, I'd been busy doing my own thing lately. Ruby and I had been doing everything we could to find and kill Lilith. But that didn't mean I was blind. I could tell something was up with Lizzie. I just wasn't going to ask questions, not when I wasn't sure she wanted to tell me anything.

"Why does the P.D. keep sending you guys?" Mr Bensen asked, not looking up at us. "I already said I don't want a lawyer."

"They're lining up the firing squad," Dean noted.

"I'm pleading guilty," Mr Bensen informed us.

"All right, look, you don't want us to represent you, that's fine." Dean shrugged, a small grin forming on his lips. "In fact, it's probably not a bad idea, between you and me." When I cleared my throat, he got back on track. "We just wanna understand what happened, that's all."

"Mr Benson," I spoke up, causing him to look up at us then. "Please."

He paused a moment, before giving us what we wanted. "What happened was, I killed my wife. You wanna know why? Because she made plans without asking me."

"Now when it happened, how did you feel?" I questioned. "Disoriented, out of control?"

"Like something possessed you to do it?" Dean elaborated.

"I knew exactly what I was doing," Mr Bensen answered. "I was crystal clear."

"The why'd you do it?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. I loved her. We were happy," Mr Bensen insisted.

Nodding, Dean turned to me. We shared a look, knowing we were going to have to take this further if we wanted the truth out of him. With a nod from me, Dean reached into his briefcase and pulled out some papers, placing them in front of Mr Bensen.

Dean tapped on the paper with his pen. "Nine G's. That's a hefty bill."

"Where did you get that?"

Dean shook his head at Mr Bensen's question. "Doesn't matter. We have it. See, certain charges, ones you don't want the missus to know… they show up under shady names like, 'M & C Entertainment'."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mr Bensen insisted, though the change of his tone and posture told us he was clearly lying.

"Like dropping plastic at a nudie bar for instance," Dean suggested, ignoring Mr Bensen.

"We just wanna know the truth, Mr Benson," I assured him. We didn't want to scare the guy. We just wanted to know why.

Looking to each of us, Mr Bensen then turned to look down at the table again as he let out a shaking breath. "Her name was Jasmine."

I frowned. "She was a stripper?"

Dean turned to me. "Dude, her name was Jasmine."

"I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't like to go to strip bars," Mr Bensen went on with his story. "My buddy was having a bachelor party, and there she was."

"Jasmine?"

Mr Bensen nodded at me. "She came right up to me. And… I dunno, she was just…perfect. Everything that I wanted."

"Well, you pay enough and anybody will be anything," Dean commented.

"It wasn't about the money. It wasn't even about the sex. It was… I dunno. I… I don't know what it was. It's hard to explain."

"And your wife found out?" I asked.

"No, she never had a clue."

"Then why'd you kill her?" It just didn't make any sense to me.

"For Jasmine," Mr Bensen sighed. "She said we would be together forever. If… if only Vicki was-" He stopped himself there before moving on. "Afterwards, me and Jasmine were supposed to meet and she never showed. I don't know where she lives, I don't know her last name, I don't even know her real first name! I'm an idiot."

"And you didn't think to tell this to the cops?" It seemed like the obvious thing to do… at least to me.

Bensen looked up at us again then. "What for? The stripper didn't do it, I did it. And I know what I deserve. The judge doesn't give me the death sentence, I'll just do it myself."

…

After talking to Mr Bensen I headed for the hospital to talk to the doctor who'd done some work on the case for the sheriff. Dr Cara Roberts. I was hoping she could shed some light on anything suspicious that could help us figure out what was going on.

Reaching her office, I opened the door without knocking, finding a woman in a lab coat sitting behind the desk popping some pills and drinking some water before she moved her hands to rub at her temples.

"Rough night?" I asked.

"Fun night. Rough morning." she countered, making me snigger. "Can I help you?"

"Ah… yes." Stepping into the office and letting the door close behind me, I pulled out my badge. "Um, I'm Special Agent Stiles, FBI. You Doctor Cara Roberts?"

"Far as I know."

With her answer, I put the badge away. "You do some work with the Sheriff's department?"

"Yeah, when I'm not slogging it through the ER." When I looked at her questioningly she explained, "It's a small town. We multi-task."

"Well, I have some questions about a case. About several cases actually. Do you mind if I sit?" I gestured to the chair on the other side of her desk. Once she gave a short nod, I sat down. "Great. Adam Benson, Jim Wylie, and Steve Snyder."

She nodded. "Oh yeah, the men who killed their wives?"

"You handled their work-ups, right?"

"Autopsies for the wives and tox screens for the perps. Two-for-one special."

"You find anything?"

She gave a short shake of her head. "Not really. I mean, c.o.d. on the women was pretty clear. There was nothing unusual in their systems."

"What about the husbands?"

She paused a moment, looking a little unsure. "Can I…. see your badge again?" A small smile played on my lips as I pulled out my badge to show her. She gave both the badge and myself a close look before going on. "There was one thing, um, an anomaly in the blood work." She turned in her chair to reach for the files behind her. "And I remember thinking how strange it was that it showed up in all three of the men."

"That what showed up?"

Turning again, she handed me some documents from the husbands' blood work. "Oxytocin. And their levels were crazy high."

"Ahh…. oxytocin?"

"Mm-hmm, it's a hormone that's produced during childbirth, lactation and sex."

"Okay."

"People call it the love hormone. Um, you know how it feels when you first fall in love. The whole weak in the knees, tattoo you on my chest thing?" She gave a short nod. "That's oxytocin. Of course, it eventually fades and then you're stuck with every relationship ever. That and the painful regime of tattoo removal." She grinned, causing me to smile as well.

The door suddenly opened as Dean came in, looking at the two of us. "What'd I miss?"

"Ahh, this is my partner, Agent Murdoch," I introduced Dean to the doctor.

He reached forward, offering her his hand. "Nice to meet you."

She gave him a light smile. "Doctor Roberts." Letting go of his hand, she looked to both of us as Dean sat in the seat next to me. "So, um, can I help you with anything else?"

"Uh, sure, just one more thing." I handed her the documents back. "This chemical, this…"

"Oxytocin," she filled in.

I nodded. "Oxytocin. What would cause those high levels that you found?"

She shrugged. "Nothing that I've ever seen."

"Okay. That's it. Thanks Doc." I gave her another smile, getting one in return as Dean and I got up to leave. But before I walked out the door, I turned back to the doctor. "By the way… try a greasy breakfast. Best thing for a hangover."

She laughed lightly. "Watch it buddy, I'm the only M.D. here."

DPOV

Walking through the hospital, it didn't take long before Sam caught up to me. Once he did, we got straight to business.

"So Whylie and Snyder totally fessed up, huh?" he asked.

I nodded. "One emptied his IRA, the other, his kids' college fund, all on the same day."

"Live nude girls?"

"A club called 'The Honey Wagon'," I answered as we exited the building, headed for Baby.

"These guys have affairs too, with a stripper also known as Jasmine?"

"Yes and no," I started. "This is where it gets interesting. Each guy hooked up with a different chick."

He frowned. "So, what? These girls all connected somehow?"

"Well, they all described their stripper in the same way, the exact same way. Perfect, and everything that they wanted."

"Yeah, at least until dream Barbie convinced them to murder their wives."

"There's that."

"You know, it's almost like they were under some kinda love spell."

"Sure seems that way."

"Which caused them to become totally psychotic."

"Absolutely."

He paused as we reached the car. "You seem pretty cheery."

I couldn't keep myself from smiling widely. "Strippers, Sammy. Strippers. We're on an actual case involving strippers. Finally."

EPOV

I sat on my bed, rubbing my temples, flicking through the lore book that sat in front of me. I'd popped a few pain killers and was jacked on caffeine. That's the only way I was getting through this case. Everything in me felt like it was barely staying together. As if the only thing keeping everything in place was some thin and flimsy tape.

A knock on my door had me lift a hand to mentally unlock and open it.

A second after, Sam stepped inside, dressed in a suit. "Hey." He walked over to stand at the foot of my bed, looking at me with worried eyes. "How you feeling?"

"Fine." Sighing, I looked up at him, closing my book as I did. "Dean called, filled me in. I've been looking up some lore, trying to figure out what we might be dealing with here."

Still watching me carefully, Sam shook his head. "Are you sure you should be researching right now?"

"I'm fine, Sam."

It was a lie. I knew he knew it was a lie. But what could I say? What could I do? Sit back and let them do all the work? Tell them I felt like I was a crack addict going through withdrawals? Not that I knew what that felt like, but this seemed like it would be pretty close to exactly that. It was like every fibre in my being was vibrating with need, screaming for something. I just didn't know what I was missing…

"Look, maybe we should call Bobby-"

"No." I unfolded my legs and pulled myself off the bed, moving to my bag on the couch, trying to ignore the shake in my weak legs. "We're not calling Bobby. We're not calling anyone. We are going to finish this case."

He wanted to argue. I could feel it in the silence that stretched out before us. But he knew there was no point in trying. Fighting me was like fighting a wall, it would get you nowhere and tire you out.

"Okay," he sighed, giving in. "But if you feel any worse-"

"I said I'm fine, Sam."

"I know you're lying, Lizzie. I know you and Dean think I don't see it, but I can tell something is wrong. I can tell you've been getting worse. I can tell you're trying to keep it hidden from everyone, but you're barely holding it together," he told me, causing me to freeze as I looked up at him speechless. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. But don't lie. You're not fine."

DPOV

I stood in the Honey Wagon bar, talking to the manager. As hard as I tried, I couldn't keep all my attention on the manager as I questioned him. My eyes just couldn't help but wander. Girls were dancing all over the place, dressed in hardly anything while guys paid to sit and watch them.

"I'm looking for three girls. Jasmine, Aurora and Ariel," I managed to focus myself to the task at hand.

The manager shook his head at me. "You seriously think those names mean anything to me?"

"One's a redhead about 5'9," I noted, hoping a description would help. "The other one's Asian, about-"

The manager cut me off before I could go on, "You have any idea how many girls I deal with? Fake names, fake hair, fake…" He gestured to his chest.

I fought back the urge to roll my eyes as I went on. "You gotta have some sort of paperwork. Cheque stubs. Some way to keep track of the strippers."

"Please, exotic dancers. Independent contractors working for cash. I stay out of their hair, they stay out of what little I have left." He pointed to his balding hair.

"Three of your customers murdered their wives. You don't think that that's weird?"

"Yeah. I think that's super-friggin' weird. But you know what it ain't? My problem," the manager told me before walking off.

Shaking my head, I turned away from him, annoyed with the lack of information he'd given. In a second or two, as I scanned the crowd, I spotted Liz and Sam from across the room.

My eyes locked onto Liz's in an instant. She paused and gave a light smile. Despite all the strippers and pole dancers- and the fact I could visibly see how unwell she was- Liz still managed to catch and hold my attention…

Moving around the stage between us, dodging the guys watching the girls, I headed over to them. I stopped so I was closer to Liz, seeing her shake slightly on her legs. I wanted to be there if she needed help. I didn't like seeing her like this, so weak and ill.

"Any luck?" Sam asked once I was close enough to hear, pulling my attention to the case again.

"No." I shook my head. "You?"

"A little." He shrugged. "We have a theory."

"Sirens," Liz finished.

"Like Greek myth siren, the Odyssey?" I asked, earning surprised looks from both Sam and Liz. "Hey, I read!"

"I'm impressed." Liz looked me up and down suggestively.

Ignoring her comment, Sam kept the conversation on track. "Yeah, but the siren's not actually a myth, it's more of a beautiful creature that preys on men, enticing them with their siren song."

"Let me guess, Welcome to the Jungle? No, no. Warrant's Cherry Pie." I grinned, amusing myself.

"Their song is more of a metaphor, like… like their call, their allure, you know?" Sam corrected.

"So, they shake their thing and the guys zombie out?" I asked.

Liz nodded. "Pretty much. Traditionally, back in the day, Sirens lived on islands where they would lure sailors to the rocky shores. Of course, that obviously led to death."

"Sounds like Adam and his buddies," I noted.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "If you were a siren in '09 looking to ruin a bunch of morons, where would you set up shop?"

The three of us looked around, seeing a number of men completely entranced by the dancers. It wasn't odd. This was exactly how it looked in every strip club everywhere. The girls didn't have to be supernatural to get attention. But it did make things easier if they were sirens…

"So, whatever floats the guy's boat, that's what they look like?" I asked, getting back to business.

"Yeah," Sam answered, going on. "You see, sirens can read minds. They see what you want most and then they can kinda, like, cloak themselves. You know, like an illusion."

I shook my head, putting Sam's words together. "So, it could all be the same chick? Morphing into, uh… to different dream girls?"

"Yeah, actually. Probably." Sam shrugged. "Sirens are usually pretty solitary."

"How do we kill it?"

"I'm heading back to the hotel to work on it," Liz told us. "But even if I figure out how to kill it, we still don't know who she is," she noted, having a really good point.

I let out a frustrated sigh, looking at all the dancers again. "How the hell are we gonna find it? It could be anybody."

EPOV

I was sitting on my bed in my room, flicking through some lore books. I'd been researching for a few hours and hadn't come up with a lot yet. There was plenty of information on sirens, but not much on how to kill them. Everything I had found was in riddles, which made everything a little bit harder, and with my mind as fuzzy as it was, I was beginning to doubt my abilities.

"Liz?" Dean's voice called from the other side of my door.

Too weak to use my mind to open it, I pulled myself off the bed and dragged myself over to the door, opening it and stepping aside so he could enter.

Dean stepped in a second later, hands casually shoved into his pockets. He was no longer dressed in his FBI suit, now back in jeans, shirt, flannel, boots, and leather jacket. His eyes looked around the room, briefly taking in the number of printed articles on my bed before his eyes met mine.

"How long have you been at it?"

"A couple of hours." I shrugged, trying not to show him how exhausted I was. Even as I walked back to the bed, I tried not to drag my feet as much.

It wasn't that I was tired, it was that I was tired of researching. I needed food, fresh air, and to move around. But I knew the guys needed me to find out how to kill the siren so we could finish the case and move on. That's what kept me going, despite my headache and shaking fingers.

"Time for a break." Pulling his hand out of the front pocket of his jeans, he dangled Baby's keys in front of himself. "I'm taking you out."

A small smile found its way onto my lips. "Is this you asking me out on a date, Winchester?"

Grinning back at me, he put the keys back in his pocket as he responded. "No. If I was asking you out you'd know about it." He gave me a wink. "Sammy's coming. We're going for dinner."

Giving a short nod, I closed the book in front of me. "Okay. Give me five minutes? I gotta change."

He looked me up and down then, taking in my tight black jeans, loose white shirt and messy bun. The glint in his eyes gave me an idea of how he felt and what he was thinking. I couldn't help but blush under that gaze. It was like it didn't matter what I wore, he always seemed to find me attractive.

"Throw on some shoes and a jacket. You don't need to change."

Nodding, without saying a word, I did as he said, grabbing my leather jacket and boots. Once I was dressed, I headed towards him, pulling my hair out of the bun and leaving it down. His eyes darkened a little more as I shook my head to loosen my hair, but he still didn't break the silence.

Offering me his arm, he helped me walk a little more steadily as the two of us left my room. He stayed close as I locked the door and headed down the hall. No matter how crap I felt, being close to him always made me feel a little better, and I could already feel my headache fading away and sore limbs relaxing.

…

In the bar with Sam and Dean, I sat on a stool, watching the two play their third round of pool. We'd enjoyed some food and had moved on to drinks a while ago. Seeing as I wasn't feeling too good, I was taking it slow. But watching Dean and Sam go for it was definitely amusing. I'm pretty sure I'd lost track of how much they'd drunk by now.

Dean moved over to me as Sam lined up his next shot. The older Winchester didn't hide his grin as he leaned against me while he drank his beer. Looking up at him, I gave a knowing look. It was obvious that he was at the stage where if I allowed it, he'd leave Sam and take us back to the room.

"You having fun?" he asked, continuing to grin.

"Probably not as much as you." I cocked an eyebrow at him.

Moving closer, he whispered in my ear, "We can change that."

I shivered at the feel of his breath on my neck. The warm air breathing life into my desire. Just like that, I wanted to go just as badly as he did.

"Ha!" Sam cheered. "I win!"

Dean pulled back to look at his brother. Sam was beaming, so proud of himself. Of course, the alcohol in his system was to blame for most of his current confidence and good mood.

Reaching over to his own drink, Sam found it empty. "I'm gonna get a refill. You guys want one?"

"Yeah, I'll have one." Dean nodded.

"Lizzie?"

I shook my head. "No. Thanks, Sammy." I smiled at him.

Shrugging, Sam headed off to the bar, leaving Dean and me alone. The moment the younger Winchester was gone, Dean stepped closer to me once more, putting a leg between my thighs as he whispered in my ear again.

"You've been sitting here all night. Everything okay?" he asked, brushing some hair behind my ear.

Knowing he cared about me. Knowing he was genuinely curious about my wellbeing. Knowing how I felt mattered to him. Knowing I meant something to him. It made me feel a little bit better.

"I'm okay," I assured him.

He pulled back a little, searching my eyes, looking for a lie or any sign of doubt. But there was none. It was the truth. Sure, I still felt pretty crap, but being out with the guys, having some fun, it helped. Even if it was just for a moment.

"I worry about you."

A small smile crept onto my lips. "I know. I worry about you, too."

His eyes flickered to my lips then, just for a moment before they locked onto my eyes again. But it had been long enough for me to get the message. I knew what he wanted, and I wanted it too. There was something between us that I couldn't quite figure out or name. All I knew was that it made me feel good, which was enough for me to start leaning forward…

"You wanna get your hands off my girlfriend?"

I pulled back quickly, my eyes going wide at the person behind Dean's shoulder. "Tristan?"

Dean tensed and turned, the flirty guy gone, replaced by the tough and protective Winchester. Tristan was just as tense, ready for whatever Dean might start.

The scene reminded me of something you might see on National Geographic. Like a pair of alpha wolves ready to fight. I knew these two guys. I knew what they were capable of and how they thought. I knew how bad things could get, and just like in the wild, their fight could definitely lead to death…

I slid off my stool and put myself in front of Dean, staying close to him so he was reassured. But not too close because I didn't want to piss Tristan off.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Tristan.

His eyes reluctantly dragged themselves away from Dean, landing on me. They were softer the moment they locked onto mine. "I got back a few days ago. Made a few calls, looked around for a while. I've been trying to find you."

A glare found its way onto my face as my anger and annoyance showed themselves. "You didn't think to call? Maybe try and ask me where I was? You've been gone for over a month."

"I know," he let out a defeated sigh. "My, uh… my friend I went to help… he didn't make it. The demon we were hunting, I thought he might come after you, so I ditched my phone and everything. To keep you safe."

Suddenly I was hit with guilt, like a punch in the heart. He'd been running for his life, to make sure the bad guys didn't come after me. Of course, it was something like that. Do you really believe he would purposefully hurt you? I scolded myself.

Shaking my head, I hurried forward to give him a hug.

His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me up and off my feet as he buried his face in my neck, breathing me in. "I missed you so much. Was so worried," he mumbled against me.

I squeezed him a little tighter. "I missed you, too."

There was a paused moment before he put me down again. He frowned, concerned, lifting a hand to my face. He then carefully and gently grabbed my wrist to lift my arm, before watching my hand as it shook. He checked my pulse, his frown growing with each passing second.

"You're not well."

"You think?" Dean snapped from behind me.

Tristan's eyes flicked to the Winchester for a split second before they met mine again. "Have you been taking your medication?"

"I, uh… I ran out a few weeks ago," I admitted.

His concerned frown grew a little confused. "But you had enough for a couple more months," he noted.

There was no way I was going to tell anyone that the reason I'd run out so fast was because I'd started taking more than I probably should have. Though mind you, there were no directions on the bottle, so it wasn't like there was a limit to how many I was or wasn't allowed to take. I just took as many as I wanted.

But thinking about it now… I probably should have slowed down when I started getting closer to the bottom of the bottle…

"Are you staying someplace?" Tristan asked, pulling my attention back to him.

I nodded. "We're at a hotel. I have a room."

"Come on." Tristan's hand slipped into mine. "Let's get you back. I'll take care of you." He looked so determined as he went to turn for the exit.

But before I let him drag me off, I looked over to Dean, seeing the angered glare he was throwing Tristan. As his eyes fell on me, I could see worry, some understanding, a little more anger and pain…

With everything we'd gone through the last month or so, I could understand how and why he was feeling the way he was. Parts of myself were begging me to stay with him. But Tristan was back, and he was my boyfriend, and I found myself unable to say no to him just like I had before he'd disappeared.

So, with a quick and silent sorry to Dean, I tried to give him a reassuring look as I followed Tristan out of the bar, hoping this wouldn't damage my friendship with either Winchester.

Bamby