The following days slipped blissfully by. They spent an afternoon up in the mountains, another on the porch locked in an hours-long game of rummy. Their evenings were reserved for cooking, eating, whiskey-drinking, and the more intimate moments, talking and rolling around beneath Mer's sheets.

On the morning of their fifth day together, Mer sat on the porch alone. She was so deeply engrossed in the novel in her lap that she hardly noticed the rumbling of an engine approaching. She didn't glance up until she noticed the vehicle taking a turn off of the main perimeter road and angling its way into her narrow gravel driveway. She recognized the car immediately, though she was used to seeing a different driver at its helm. The coffee mug she had been clutching close against the morning chill found its way to the table beside her, as did her book, spine up. Rising slowly from her seat, she couldn't help the smile that crept up onto her face, thinking about Dean's reaction to his kid brother tracking him down all the way out here.

Sam emerged from the car, his face a mask of confusion as he took in his surroundings.

Moose's loud, bellowing bark shattered the morning quiet as she came bounding out from her igloo and toward the new visitor.

"Moose!" Mer scolded, hurrying down the porch steps. "She's friendly, I swear," she assured Sam over the sound of her dog's bellows. "Just loud."

"Um…hi," Sam greeted awkwardly, his expression slightly strained as he tried to place her. He absentmindedly patted Moose's head as she sniffed him up and down.

"Sam," Meredith returned warmly, stopping a few yards short of the Impala. "It's been a while." She smiled and reintroduced herself: "Meredith Parker."

Sam stared at her for a few moments more before his face blossomed with recognition.

"You're all grown up," Meredith chided, giving him another moment to process. "It's amazing what four years off at college does."

"Meredith Parker," he echoed, astonished. "Denver, right?"

Mer nodded. "My dad used to work for Denver PD. He helped your dad on a case or two."

"You…" Sam seemed to struggle for the words. "…You got me into Stanford."

Meredith snorted, shaking her head. "You got you into Stanford. I just helped you edit your admissions essay."


Sam sat in the late afternoon light of the Denver library, typing frantically. He stopped abruptly and, glaring at the computer screen as if it had personally offended him, hit the backspace button repeatedly with vigor.

"What did that computer ever do to you?" a voice asked from behind him.

Sam cowed as the police chief's daughter moved to take a seat at the computer beside him, placing her backpack at her feet. She wordlessly unzipped it and withdrew several books, plunking them on the desk space beside her monitor.

"Well?" she asked when Sam didn't so much as utter a reply.

"I, er, well…"

"I was just joking," Meredith responded breezily, seeing him shift uncomfortably in his seat. "You don't have to tell me. It's your business."

Sam let out a heave of a sigh. "College admissions essay," he came clean, realizing he had never said the words aloud to anyone.

Meredith's eyebrows lifted, her interest piqued as she angled toward him in her seat. "Where you off to?" she wondered.

"Anywhere," Sam admitted with a beleaguered sigh. "I mean, anywhere I can get in. Look, Meredith—it's Meredith, right?"

"Most people call me Mer," she told him, shrugging.

"Mer," Sam restated, "you can't tell anyone about this. My dad and my brother would…" He simply shook his head.

"Secret's safe," Mer assured him. "Believe me, Sam, my daddy didn't want me going off to college either. He wished I would stay here my whole life, become Mrs. Somebody, and pop out some grandkids. I guess you could say he's traditional."

Sam snorted out a soft laugh. "But you go, right? I heard him say you were home for summer?"

She nodded, quietly proud. "I'm going to UC Davis. Veterinary track. Actually—" She opened one of her books and pressed the power button on her monitor. "—I'm here to work on my summer courses."

Sam looked impressed. "Davis. That's awesome."

"Thanks," Mer replied, smiling. She appraised him for a moment. "So, what are we working with here? What's your GPA?"

Suddenly bashful, Sam glanced down into his lap momentarily. "4.2," he answered.

Mer's eyebrows shot up. "4.2?" she questioned. "No big deal—just 4.2."

Sam chuckled awkwardly, shrugging.

"Come here," Mer urged, scooting her chair closer and angling to look at his monitor. "Let's see what we're working with…"


"So, what brings you to my humble abode?" Mer asked, though she clearly knew the answer.

Sam snapped out of his reverie at once. "Is my brother here? With you?" he blurted out. He cleared his throat, collecting himself. "Er…it's just that, the lady at the diner—"

"Yeah, he's here," Mer answered, unabashed. "He's out on the lake right now. He was eager to fish this morning." She pointed out toward what looked like a tiny speck on the surface of the lake. "He should be coming in soon. You know he'd never skip lunch."

Sam let out a chuckle despite himself, seeming both comforted by her humor but further confused about the entire situation.

Mer bobbed her eyebrows and switched her attention from the panoramic view to her guest. "You hungry?"

"I don't want to impose," Sam said quickly.

"Oh, come on," Mer snorted, waving him toward the cabin. "I can at least pour you a cup of coffee while we're waiting on Dean. No offense…but you look like you need it."

Sam followed Mer inside and took an awkward seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. When Mer turned her back to him to take a mug out of the cupboard, he glanced around at the cabin's interior, taking in every detail.

"I'll admit, it would never appear in Good Housekeeping," Mer joked, catching his observance as she turned back around. "But it's home." She approached him, setting down a mug in front of him and pouring piping hot coffee into it with the other.

"It's nice," Sam replied, really meaning it.

"Milk? Sugar?" Mer asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Milk would be great," Sam responded, nodding.

Mer opened the fridge and withdrew the carton, setting it on the counter in front of him. "I can tell this is confusing for you, Sam," she said frankly. Though, the way she looked at him gave some hint of sympathy.

Sam chuckled again. "Any chance you could fill me in?" he wondered.

Mer shook her head, smiling regrettably. "I don't think that's my place," she admitted. "I think this is something your brother would want to talk to you about."

"That's what I was afraid of," Sam replied with a knowing grimace.

"But look, I've got your back," Mer reassured him. "You're welcome here; I don't think there's any harm in it. Your brother's just…paranoid."

"Huh," Sam uttered, still not quite grasping what he had walked into.

"So, I hope you don't mind breakfast for lunch," Mer said, changing the subject entirely. "I'm craving pancakes and bacon."

Half an hour later, the cabin was thick with the smell of bacon and eggs, both sizzling on the grill as Mer mixed up a bowl of pancake batter. Sam still sat at the barstool, feeling a bit more comfortable in his surroundings as he sipped his now lukewarm coffee.

Suddenly, the front door flew open, banging against the wall as it swung.

"Sam!" Dean's gravely voiced boomed through the one-room dwelling.

Sam stood abruptly from his seat, cringing slightly.

Meredith wheeled around, spatula in hand, and threw a look of mixed bewilderment and reproach in the direction of the door. "Dean!"

Dean looked suddenly caught out, his bravado wavering as he flashed Mer an apologetic look. "I need to talk to Sam," he stated, his eyes flicking to land on his kid brother. "Now."

Sam obediently skulked outside with him.

Dean stormed down the steps of the cabin, waiting until he and Sam were on the front lawn before he rounded on him. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Dean, I-I was worried," Sam stammered, not having anticipated his brother's wrath. "You just took off—"

"How'd you find me?" Dean demanded, agitated.

"I checked the credit card records," Sam admitted. "I saw you had bought a bus ticket, so I went to the station and asked around. They said you'd come here."

"Here? As in where?"

"As in this town," Sam clarified. "I got in yesterday afternoon and talked to some townspeople, asked if they saw you. Showed them your picture and stuff."

"You—?" Dean let out an exasperated noise, running a hand through his hair and turning away from his brother.

"I thought it was a bust, but then this morning I went into this diner—"

"Darla," Dean grumbled. "That's just freaking perfect."

"Dean, I really don't see the big deal," Sam admitted, regarding his brother like a stranger.

"You flashed my mug around this whole damn town, that's the big deal," Dean barked, hands on his hips. "If they wouldn'tve recognized me before, they sure as hell do now."

"Dean—"

"Who else knows you're here?" Dean's glare was menacing.

"No one," Sam stated, more than a little frustrated. "No one, Dean. Bobby and Ellen both know I'm looking, but that's all."

"God, I can't believe this," Dean growled, scrubbing a hand down his face. "What the hell, Sammy?"

"What the hell?" Sam demanded. "What the hell? I'll tell you what the hell. You sold your soul to the devil, Dean! You told me you have a year to live and then you skipped out on me! You didn't tell me where you were going and when I asked how long you said 'a few days.' I mean, you left me with the Impala, for God's sakes. What the hell was I supposed to make of any of that?"

"Keep your voice down," Dean urged, a hint of pleading in his eyes as he glanced toward the cabin.

"Dean," Sam said, looking at his brother to level, lowering his voice. "You gotta tell me what's going on. I mean, Meredith Parker? Where does she fit into this? We met her in Denver on a job with dad, what? Five years ago?"

"It's complicated," Dean evaded.

"Have you two kept in touch or something?" Sam wondered.

"Clearly," Dean replied with a condescending smile.

"So, are you two like…?"

"Look, in an alternate universe where I live a normal life, she'd be like my best friend," Dean answered snappily. "Okay?"

"Okay," Sam replied, putting his hands up in surrender.

"We crossed paths again about a year after Denver when dad and I were hunting up in California. We decided…to keep in touch, trade phone calls and whatever. We'd hang out a few times a year, first in Davis and then once she settled here. It was only this last year that I wasn't able to swing it—I don't know if you'd noticed, but things have been pretty crazy since I picked you up from Stanford."

Sam bobbed his eyebrows. "And then you found out you had a year to live."

"I had to come see her. I'm thinking it might be the last time," Dean purposefully said the last part matter-of-fact.

"Does she know?" Sam asked, somehow already knowing the answer.

Dean shook his head. "I was getting there," he said, and Sam actually believed him.

"Does she know about…any of it? Hunting and demons and all that?"

"Of course," Dean scoffed. "You remember her daddy was hip to this stuff when dad came knocking all those years ago. He wasn't a hunter by any means, but it was hands down the easiest time we ever had working with law enforcement."

"Where's her dad now?" Sam wondered.

"Big house," Dean replied.

"Prison?" Same questioned, taken off guard.

"Turns out the Chief wasn't such a good guy, after all," Dean said disdainfully. "Killed his wife."

"Meredith's mother?" Sam questioned.

"The very same," Dean confirmed. "Couple years after Denver."

"And you're sure it was him?" Sam wondered, skeptical. "You don't think he was—?"

"Possessed, no," Dean answered. "Cooperating with hunters who passed through town was about as close as her family got to any of it. And I'd like to keep it that way."

Sam nodded, understanding dawning. "That explains the low profile," he realized.

"It's the only way to keep her safe," Dean said. "Since she moved here, I'm even more careful with covering my tracks. Back in Davis, me coming into town a few times a year was nothing. In a small town like this, anyone would remember an unfamiliar face, even once."

Sam looked suddenly guilty. "Dean, I'm sorry," he told his older brother. "If I had known, I never would have come looking. I was just worried, I guess."

"It's all right, Sammy," Dean reassured him, finally cooling off. "If anything, I'm being overly cautious. Darla the diner owner knowing about me is harmless—I just don't want anyone who's got a bone to pick with me using Mer to do it, you know?"

"Believe me, I do," Sam replied darkly, remembering Jessica. He looked at his brother cautiously, unable to help himself. "But you two are just friends?"

"I believe I said 'it's complicated,'" Dean reminded him. "We're friends, but we've…been known to blur those lines a little bit."

Sam bit back a smile. "Blur the lines?"

"You don't see a guest room in that cabin, do you?" Dean rolled his eyes and stalked off toward the house, clearly done with the conversation.