Some might say I talk loud, see if I care
Unlike them, don't walk away from my fear
I've busted bones, broken stones, looked the devil in the eye
I hope he's gonna break these chains, oh yeah
The devil's gonna make me a free man
The devil's gonna set me free
The devil's gonna make me a free man
He said he's gonna set me free
Kaleo, Broken Bones
Dean failed to find any leads at the crime scenes, so he and Henricksen dove into the copies of the case files Henricksen had gotten from the cops. To Dean's surprise, Henricksen was the first to find something promising. The sun was coming up outside, shedding its light on the hunters who had worked straight through the night.
"Well, I just got off the phone with one of the last people to see the second victim alive," Henricksen announced. "Guy's great aunt. And guess what she and the grandpa who lives three doors down in her nursing home have in common?"
"Aside from arthritis and dentures?" Dean cracked without looking up from his laptop.
"Grief. The grandpa down the hall? The first victim was his daughter."
Dean closed his laptop.
"You don't say."
"Think it's random?"
"No. I mean, I gotta say, it's a little on the nose," Dean said, puzzled. "Still, I guess it makes sense. If the witch is getting on in years, what better place to hide out? Blend in?"
"So what's the next move?"
"Visit the place, scope it out," Dean said. "And fast. If this witch is doing what we think she is, she's going to kill again. Today. We're racing against the clock here."
"Bobby Singer? You mean Sam and Dean's honorary uncle Bobby?" Alice demanded. She and Allison approached the banged up mess that was their car, which Crowley had courteously left at the edge of the wheat field. Their contract reading had gone late into the night, but eventually, all three parties signed. The deal was sealed as was customary for such affairs.
"Our second kiss," Crowley had purred after Allison pulled away from him. Despite her distaste, Allison saw the humor in the situation and laughed.
"One more and we'll be in a committed relationship," she warned jokingly.
"Oh darling, don't try to tie me down," Crowley tsked.
"Get a room you two," Alice scowled impatiently, rolling her eyes.
Now, the Smith sisters were the only people for miles around. Crowley was long gone. Overhead, the country sky was bright with a million brilliant stars that lit their path as they headed toward the highway. The air was crisp, cool and clean around them. Allison had just recounted the tale of the colt and its journey out of the Winchester's hands. The point of the story was that there was only one person on the planet who could supply them with bullets for the gun. That one person was Bobby Singer.
"There's no way in hell he's going to help us," Alice lamented. "We show our faces around there, he's just as likely to shoot us on sight."
"You're right. So we don't show our faces," Allison said slyly. She had a plan, but Alice barreled ahead before she had a chance to explain it.
"So we need to come up with alternatives," Alice said as they reached the car. She paced back and forth while Allison settled into the passenger seat, resting her weary feet. "Loki has an angelic blade. He'd never give it to us though, not even on loan. I gave our knife to Dean... he'll never give it back. When I died, I had an angelic blade on me. Maybe we can track that down? I guess if all else fails we could make the weapon we need..."
"Or, we could just get someone else to get the bullets for us," Allison suggested, rolling her eyes at how quickly her sister had moved on to plans B through E. Alice stopped pacing.
"Who?" she demanded.
"Someone who wants Lilith dead even more than we do. Someone Singer wouldn't mind helping out."
"Someone like...?"
"Someone like Sam Winchester."
"I thought the last time you were together you enchanted him," Alice asked skeptically.
"Just a little," Allison said defensively. "I'm telling you, it won't matter. I know Sam. He wants to get back at Lilith for what she did to his brother."
"Yeah, speaking of Dean, those two are practically joined at the hip," Alice scoffed. "You don't get one without the other and there's no way in hell Dean's going to help us after..."
Alice cut off, pursing her lips and crossing her arms over her chest. Shame rose in her as she remembered the last time she'd seen Dean. Alice had done a lot of things in her life that she should have been sorry for. What she'd done to Dean was one of a precious few that she actually regretted.
"Uh-huh. Look, don't worry about it. Leave Sam to me," Allison said confidently.
Alice considered the plan for a long moment, before she finally shrugged.
"I guess it's worth a shot," she sighed. "I don't think he's gonna go for it, but what's the worst that can happen?"
"Well, if he's more pissed about the enchanting than I think, we might wind up adding the Winchesters to the list of people actively trying to hunt us down and kill us," Allison pointed out.
"Oh, well if that's all, then by all means," Alice said sarcastically. "Let's do this."
"Serenity Gardens is a full care facility."
"Uh-huh."
"We put an emphasis on independent living, but of course we have the best on-site medical care available twenty-four seven."
"Uh-huh."
Henricksen kept following the woman giving him the official tour, while Dean split off clandestinely, slipping off down a hallway when she wasn't looking. Henricksen watched him go with pursed lips. Dean had insisted on being the one to explore the home off the map, claiming that his hunting experience trumped the investigative expertise Henricksen had accumulated over the course of his career in the FBI.
Dean started down a hallway without knowing what he was looking for. If there was a witch hiding out among the residents, the odds of them leaving evidence of their abilities out in the open were slim to none.
"You're finally here!"
Dean nearly jumped out of his skin, startled by an excited voice behind him. He whirled around, coming face-to-face with a stooped woman who must have been in her nineties.
"You're late!" the woman accused, shaking a bony finger at him severely. "Everyone told me you weren't coming, but I knew better! Addy always knows better!"
"You were... expecting me?" Dean asked a little nervously, backing away from the woman. She was spooking him, but with no proof that she was the witch, he didn't dare pull his gun on her.
"Of course, Edgar, dear!" Addy chuckled. "Did you think Granny would forget about you?"
She reached into her purse and pulled out a lollipop.
"Now be a good boy and tell Granny all about your week," she demanded eagerly.
"I... uh... well..."
At a loss, Dean took the lollipop that she was pushing on him somewhat aggresively.
"It... it was a good week."
"Addy! Will you leave the guy alone?" came a voice from the end of the hall. Dean glanced over his shoulder to see a man with a walker making his way toward them slowly. "Don't mind her," the man told Dean. "She gets her kicks from acting like she's got dementia. She's faking. You big fraud, you!"
"Oh, I'm the fraud, am I?" Addy demanded. "You know damn well you don't need that walker, Harry!"
"Oh yeah? Prove it, you old bag!"
"Get bent, party pooper patrol!" Addy scowled, retreating to her room.
"That's right, go make sure your three hundred colors of yarn are arranged in a perfect gradient!" Harry called after her.
"Oh, eat me!"
She slammed the door behind her, leaving Dean taken aback while Harry chuckled to himself.
"She's just sore she's the only one here who never gets any visitors," Harry told Dean. He gave him a good look up and down. "Who are you here visiting? I swear I know all the relatives. Someone new coming in to take Arthur's old room?"
"Uh... I'm just checking the place out," Dean said, clearing his throat. It wasn't a lie. "See if it's... you know. All it's cracked up to be."
"What are they cracking it up to be?" Harry asked.
"Serenity Gardens? The name kind of does all the advertising for them."
"Serenity my ass," Harry scoffed. "It's only serene if you stay in your room all day with a morphine drip. You know, they give you that for no extra charge if you put on the application that your loved one isn't long for this world."
"You don't say?"
"Yeah. Marty Schiffman's daughter told the administrators he has stage four renal cancer. Bald-faced lie, but no one ever went to the trouble to verify it. That old goat's had it made in the shade the entire time he's been here. I just wish my nephew wasn't such a stiff necked, goody two shoes altar boy," Harry sighed.
"Sounds rough. So what, this place keep you on your toes?" Dean pressed.
"Not the place so much as the people. Bunch of degenerates if I ever knew any."
"That so?"
"Oh yeah."
"Rowdy bunch?"
"Oh, you know how it is. Coop enough bored old farts up together long enough and see if things don't get a little crazy from time to time."
"Crazy, huh?" Dean chuckled. "Like, fun crazy, eccentric crazy... scary crazy?"
"Oh, sure, all of the above," Harry confirmed. "I'm a party animal, myself. Of course, you've always got the kooks. Take Addy for instance. All she ever does is prank the visitors. Then there's widow Waverly. Now there's a real basket case, I tell you what."
"Widow Waverly, huh? What, you think I should warn my Nana about that one before she gives this place the green light?" Dean asked.
"Oh, definitely," Harry chuckled. "Creepy old broad if ever I saw one. Collects locks of hair from anyone who gets close enough to her and her scissors. Wears nothing but black since she lost her old man, never clips her fingernails... Between you and me, she always smells like mold."
"Little on the witchy side?" Dean suggested.
"Oh, definitely. All she's missing is the pointy hat," Harry chuckled.
"Uh-huh. Well, thanks for the heads-up," Dean said.
"Anytime, pal. Say, your Nana... she a fun gal, by any chance?" Harry asked, eyebrows waggling suggestively.
Dean's mind raced a little as he thought about convincing attributes for his fake Nana.
"Uh... yeah, you know, Nana she, uh... she loves a good party," he said.
"Well, let her know Serenity Gardens'll make sure she gets the welcome party of her life if she decides to shack up with the rest of us," Harry said with a wink.
Dean managed to be creeped out on behalf of his imaginary Nana. He took a step back with an awkward chuckle.
"I'll, uh... I'll be sure to mention it. Nice meeting you, Harry," he said as he retreated.
"Ditto!"
Alice watched anxiously as her sister paced farther and farther from the car. She had Sam on the phone, but whatever was being said between them was sensitive enough that Allison had chosen to take the conversation out of earshot of Alice. Alice took advantage of her sister's preoccupation to light a cigarette. Lord knew she needed one after the past few hours. Between drags, she considered the thin white object that had such a tight hold over her. At this point, she was forced to admit that it had become an addiction. She decided she didn't mind and kept puffing away while Allison paced a few yards away. It made her feel good and Alice had precious few things in her life that could do that at the moment.
With Allison spoke to Sam, Alice couldn't help but wonder about his brother. What was Dean doing? Was he on the call with Sam? Or was he on the sidelines, like her, waiting for Sam to get off the phone and tell him what the hell the Smith sisters wanted desperately enough to call them? Alice smiled a little as she realized how easily she could picture Dean, waiting impatiently to learn the reason for their Hail Mary call. He would drum his fingers while he waited and if he caught any of what Sam was saying, he would make faces at it. The vision was so vivid that Alice almost thought she could smell him for a minute, grease, leather, gunpowder, just a touch of whiskey and the awful dollar store deodorant that never really did its job right. The strange, illusory sensation filled her with nostalgia, with raw, potent longing for the way things used to be.
She shook her head to dispel her imagination, sadness creeping over her. She didn't want to think about Dean. She didn't want to miss him. She didn't want to be heart broken over how badly she'd messed things up with him, but she couldn't help it. Not sober, anyway.
Alice made sure Allison was still on the phone and reached clandestinely into her jacket pocket for a flask. She took a long swig, one eye on Allison as she did. When she lowered the flask, waiting for the sting of the alcohol to hit her now that she was breathing again, she realized something was wrong. With a sinking feeling, she realized she'd just taken a few big gulps of water. Alice only carried one kind of water around with her. She patted herself down, searching for the right flask.
"Looking for this?"
Allison's voice startled her. She'd crept up on her sister in just a few seconds, moving silently to stand just behind her. Alice startled and whipped around to see Allison holding up the flask that contained her tequila.
"When did you... damn it, Allison, I just drank holy water looking for that!" Alice scowled, snatching the flask from her sister.
"That's your fault for being such a degenerate alcoholic," Allison accused with wry humor.
"I'm not an alcoholic."
"Whatever you say. I guess you're not a nicotine fiend either, huh?"
"What did Sam say?" Alice demanded, changing the subject. She let her cigarette fall to the ground and crushed it out with her heel. "Are they gonna help us or not?"
"There's no they," Allison informed her. "Sam and Dean split up over a month ago. Wanna take a guess at why?"
Alice racked her brain, but drew blanks. She shook her head.
"Sam's still after Lilith," Allison said triumphantly. "As a matter of fact, he's closing in on her."
It took her a minute, but Alice realized why Dean wasn't with his brother.
"Dean didn't want to kick the anthill," Alice observed. "Can't say I blame him. So, what did Sam say?"
"Well, he thought it was really ungrateful of me to enchant him after he exorcised Ruby for me, but at the end of the day he gets that I couldn't let Dean..."
Allison cleared her throat, moving on quickly.
"Anyway, Sam's been working on a plan to get close to Lilith. So I'm sure you can imagine how very interested he was to hear that we have the colt."
"So he's gonna help us?"
Alice hardly dared to believe it.
"Damn right he's gonna help us."
"Hell yeah!" Alice crowed in celebration, despite the fact that she was starting to feel a little nauseous.
"He's gonna meet us in Sioux Falls."
"That's great," Alice said. She gagged a little, stomach turning unpleasantly. "Hold that thought."
She stumbled away from the car, making it to the edge of the wheat field before she threw up violently.
"Alice? You good?" Allison asked, wincing sympathetically.
Alice kept vomiting, but flashed her a thumbs up. Allison approached her doubled over sister with a concerned frown, wrinkling her nose as she got closer. Sulfur fumes filled the air. Allison couldn't help but notice the oily black patches in Alice's sick. Curiosity mixed morbidly with worry as Allison rubbed her little sister's back until she finally stopped heaving.
"Nasty," Alice gasped, wiping her mouth on her sleeve and stumbling back toward the car. Allison followed her, quiet and thoughtful. "So, who's taking the first turn driving?"
"I'll do it," Allison said. "If you agree to try something for me."
"Shoot."
Allison pulled a flask from her back pocket. She uncapped it and offered it to Alice, who eyed it dubiously.
"You're not serious," Alice said.
"I think it might do you good," Allison said shortly, pushing the holy water on her more insistently. "Try to keep it down this time."
"Are you kidding me? That's not funny, Allison. Get that stuff out of my face," Alice growled, swatting the flask away.
"If you can keep it down I'll stop trying to make you quit smoking," Allison offered enticingly.
"You're serious?" Alice scoffed. A look at Allison's face, however, told her everything she needed to know. "Wow. You're serious. Allison, you saw how sick that stuff just made me."
"Better out than in," Allison countered, still extending the flask. "The sulfurous black gook, that is. Come on, I've got a hunch about this."
"A hunch?"
"Humor me. Have a little trust," Allison entreated. She shook the flask expectantly. Alice scowled at it for a long moment. She had to admit that it would be nice to have her sister off her ass about her smoking.
"No more throwing my stuff out when I'm not looking?" Alice sighed.
"Only if you can keep it down."
"What if it kills me?" Alice asked dubiously.
"Don't be a baby. It's not gonna kill you."
"Sure about that?"
"Just shut up and take your medicine," Allison goaded her.
"Fine," Alice grumbled, taking the flask. "No biggie, just experiment on me to your hearts content. I'll be your lab rat, no problem. It's only unbearable nausea."
Still, Alice took a sip. Allison didn't look satisfied, so she took a gulp. Still, Allison eyed her with pursed lips.
"Ugh, fine," Alice groaned. She downed the whole flask and slapped it back into Allison's waiting hand. "I hate you."
"I hate you too," Allison shot back, rolling her eyes. "That's why I put up with all your bullshit."
"This has got to be the single creepiest thing I've ever done," Henricksen said, sounding disappointed in himself. It was hard for Dean to tell for sure over the phone. He was staking out the front of the nursing home, while Henricksen took the back. "Stalking a bunch of geriatrics... I can name a few people who would be majorly let down if they could see me now."
"Yeah, well, I bet none of those people ever killed a witch," Dean said. "You got a good vantage?"
"As good as it gets. So what's the plan?"
"Well, if the witch is in there, they're gonna need to leave to get the next organ they need for the spell. If you see anyone making a run for it, tail 'em."
"Dean, there's only two of us. We can't tail everyone who leaves."
"Come on, man, the youngest person in there is in their seventies," Dean pointed out. "They don't have anywhere to be."
"And if they do?"
"Trust me, they don't."
"Alright. So whoever leaves is the witch?"
"Probably. I mean, don't shoot until they do some witchy stuff, obviously."
"As in?"
"I don't know, leading people to their deaths," Dean spitballed. "Putting them under trances, winding up to rip their spleens out... that sort of thing."
Dean spotted motion from the nursing home. A curtain pulled ever so slightly to the side. He glimpsed a familiar face in the window. Addy locked eyes with him for a moment, frowning as she did. He realized how out of place he looked. Awkwardly, he waved at the old lady. She waved back, then let the curtain fall back across the window.
"And killing this witch is our only option?" Henricksen asked, reminding Dean he was still on the phone.
"No, I mean... if you want you could take them out to lunch, have a nice chat, trade muffin recipes," Dean joked.
"Smartass. I mean, couldn't we turn them in to the police?"
"Oh sure, and what are the cops gonna do?"
"Prosecute them, put them away for murder?"
"Look, I see what you're getting at, but it's a bad idea," Dean said. Across the street, he caught Addy peeking out at him again, stoking his suspicions. "Witches are dangerous. I doubt it's possible to keep one locked up for long."
"If you say so."
Henricksen ended the call, leaving Dean to his solitary stakeout. It wasn't long before Addy peeked out at him a third time, this time from a different window. Dean wondered if she was just worried by his presence, or if something more was going on with her. Either was possible. He pretended that he didn't see her and continued his vigil.
After about an hour, Henricksen called him again.
"There's some spooky shit going down back here," he told him urgently.
"Define spooky," Dean said.
"I got a creepy old broad in black heading out with a kid in tow."
"The widow Waverly," Dean guessed. "Ok, so follow them."
Henricksen groaned in response. Meanwhile, Addy peeked through the curtains again. Dean pursed his lips, carefully avoiding her scrutiny.
Minutes later, Henricksen called him again.
"Dean, I'm at the park down the road. I think you'd better get down here. This is getting seriously weird."
"Weird how."
"She's either gearing up to give this kid a hair cut or a lobotomy," Henricksen informed him.
"Ok, I'm on my way."
Dean hung up and threw the impala into gear, racing down the street toward the park. There, he found Henricksen outside of his car with his arms crossed over his chest. On a park bench a few yards away, an old woman in a black dress sat trimming a child's hair.
"What the..."
"False alarm, I guess," Henricksen said with a frown. "Still, I mean..."
"No, I get it," Dean assured him, scratching his head as he watched the scene unfold. "Definitely, uh..."
"Strange venue for a hair cut."
"You can say that again."
Dean returned to his post, leaving Henricksen to watch the widow Waverly. As time crept slowly on, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, the sunset's golden glow warming the evening with its colorful rays. It wasn't until a few hours had passed that Dean realized he hadn't spotted Addy since before he hurried off on Henricksen's wild goose chase. He had a horrible thought and began to wonder if he'd made a big mistake when he left the nursing home unattended.
"Damn it," he growled. He left the impala, lock-picking his way into the back of the home to avoid having to make excuses to the desk attendant. He made his way through the halls covertly, quickly reaching the room he remembered Addy slinking into after Harry exposed her prank. He knocked softly. No response. He knocked again. Still nothing.
Dean glanced up and down the hall, pulling his lockpick out again and forcing his way into Addy's room. He peeked in, found it empty, and stepped inside with a sinking feeling. It was after curfew. No one should have been outside the home.
He started looking through Addy's drawers, texting Henricksen as he did.
I think I found her. Where are you?
Dean went through all the drawers in her dresser, but found nothing suspicious. He moved on to the closet, but his search was interrupted by footsteps. He whipped around in time to see the door handle turning. Thinking quickly, he ducked into the closet just as the door opened, peeking out through the shuttered doors with bated breath.
Addy and Harry stumbled through it, giggling together.
"You're a vile old fool, you know that Harold?" Addy accused him.
"Oh please, you know you like it," Harry chuckled.
They stumbled toward the bed together, kissing and laughing. Dean recoiled in the closet with a grimace as he realized what he was seeing. In his pocket, his phone vibrated. Henricksen was trying to call him. Dean peeked out of the closet, waiting for Addy and Harry to turn their backs to him before he quickly made a break for it. He dashed for the door, flung it open and bolted while behind him, he heard Addy gasp in shock. He hoped he hadn't given the old woman a heart attack.
Then again, it seemed like Addy and Harry had strong, well-exercised hearts for people their age.
Dean fled the nursing home with a shudder, wishing he hadn't seen so much. At the same time, he could be nothing but grateful that he hadn't seen more. His phone was still ringing silently, so he answered it as he hopped into the impala.
"False alarm," he told Henricksen. "No witchcraft, just some elderly midnight magic. Blegh. Never gonna get that image out of my head now."
"Dean, will you shut up?!" Henricksen demanded on the other end of the line. "It's the widow! She's after me!"
"Oh crap! Where are you?!"
"The Kroger!"
"What?!" Dean demanded, throwing the car into gear and speeding away. "Why the hell are you at the Kroger?!"
"Old bag spotted me at the park after the kid left, asked me for a ride to the pharmacy!" Henricksen hissed, lowering his voice. "How far away are you? I don't know how much longer I can keep dodging this hag!"
"I'm coming as fast as I can!" Dean snapped. "Why didn't you shoot her?!"
"I tried! She's a lot faster than she looks! Stronger too!"
"She knock you on your ass?" Dean asked, amused in spite of the dire situation.
"This isn't funny, Winchester!" Henricksen snapped.
"I'm not laughing."
"You know how salt keeps demons at bay?" Henricksen asked, lowering his voice further, even as his tone became more urgent. "Will it help with the witch?"
"No," Dean informed him grimly. "Why, you in the spice section?"
"For now! I gotta move again soon!"
"Right, right. Look, if you have time, you can look for Anise seeds."
"Will that help?!"
"Maybe. Depends on what kind of witch we're dealing with."
"Maybe?! Winchester, I'm- oh shit!"
"Henricksen?! Henricksen!"
The call dropped, taking Dean's stomach with it.
"Damn it!" he growled.
He careened into the parking lot, spotting Henricksen's car parked outside the grocery store. He screeched to a halt in the crosswalk right in front of the store doors and sprang out of the car. It was late enough that the store was mostly empty, so the only people around were the cashiers. They were bored, assembled at the customer service desk. Dean swept past them with his gun drawn, none of them noticing as he hurried to the spice aisle. He slid to a halt, finding the aisle wrecked, but empty. A clatter from behind him caught his attention and he whirled around, pointing his gun at man in a lab coat.
"Whoa! Holy shit, don't shoot!" the man exclaimed.
"FBI!" Dean barked. "I'm looking for my partner!"
"The guy getting his ass handed to him by somebody's Grandma over in produce?" the pharmacist guessed.
Dean wasted no time, racing toward the produce section. He skidded through the store, rounding one last corner to find Henricksen backed against the lettuce, bleeding and out of places to run. Blocking his path, the witch raised a large pair of scissors, preparing to strike.
"Hey!" Dean boomed, grabbing her attention. She turned, snarling defiantly to fix him with a murderous glare. Dean emptied his clip into her chest and she wailed and shook, filling the store with the echoes of her death throes. She fell to the ground, exploding into flaky black ash on the linoleum. Behind her, Henricksen looked on with a nigh comical expression that combined amazement, relief and horror. For a long moment, the Kroger was silent. Dean noticed the cashiers peeking out from around some shelves, finally drawn away from their pow-wow by the ruckus the hunters had caused. Henricksen slumped back on a vertical bed of lettuce just as the sprinklers came on, showering him with light, chilly mist. He couldn't help but chuckle as Dean approached, carefully stepping around the remains of the witch to offer Henricksen a hand.
"Well," Henricksen finally sighed as Dean helped pull him out of the lettuce, "I guess I can stop stressing over explaining a dead old lady to the local authorities. And my supervisors."
"That's the most stressful part about all this?" Dean chuckled wryly.
"Absolutely. That's exactly the kind of mess that gets otherwise perfectly decent agents put on indefinite unpaid leave," Henricksen explained, wincing as he limped out of the Kroger with Dean. "So... now what?"
"Now," Dean sighed, "I get some sleep. You realize it's coming up on forty-eight hours since either of us slept?"
"That explains the headache," Henricksen said. "I just assumed the witch put a spell on me to blow my head up."
"Not a bad guess. So, what's next for you?"
"Aspirin and a nightcap."
"No, I meant... job-wise," Dean clarified. "Now that you've seen action, are you looking for more? Or did I manage to scare you off?"
"I don't scare that easy, Winchester," Henricksen grinned.
"So you're gonna keep hunting."
Henricksen pursed his lips and thought his answer over for a few minutes.
"It's not like I came looking for this case," he finally said. "Honestly, I don't know if I'll go looking for others."
"Yeah, well I doubt you'll need to go looking," Dean said, a hint of grimness creeping into his tone. "This life... it sticks to you. It's like once you know what's out there, what's out there knows you know. You know? Like it or not... I'd be surprised if cases don't start finding you."
"Guess I better keep those witch-killing bullets handy then," Henricksen replied, unfazed. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"What's next for Dean Winchester? You just waiting for a case to find you?"
Dean paused, realizing that he didn't know what he wanted. The truth was, as much fun as he was having on his own, he woke up every morning hoping to find a text or a voicemail from someone who needed him. Helping Henricksen had given him more fulfillment than anything else he'd done over the past month and a half.
"Yeah," Dean finally said. "Something like that."