When they sat down to brunch at the wooden table on the cabin's vast porch, conversation flowed more easily than expected. Meredith was eager to learn all about Sam's experience at Stanford, having gotten bits and pieces from Dean over the years, but not much else.

As he got toward the end of his tales, she reached out and placed a hand on his forearm. "I was so sorry to hear about Jessica," she told him compassionately.

"Thank you," Sam replied, taken off guard but not uncomfortable. His eyes met Mer's and then darted to Dean and back again, as they had several times throughout their meal together. To Dean, the question in his expression was clear: How the hell does this work?

"And I heard you had a brush with death yourself," Mer commented, removing her hand from his forearm and back to her fork, which she used to spear a scrambled egg. Then, as if realizing the topic she had just posed: "I mean, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Um, yeah. I-I did," Sam confirmed, nodding and averting his gaze to his plate. "Got lucky though."

"I don't know if you ever told me how Sam got brought back," she realized, looking to Dean with furrowed brow. "I mean, I heard about your spiritual healer and your dad's sacrifice, obviously, but…never anything about Sam."

"Oh, uh. Old spell. Dark magic, you know. Not the most above board…" Dean copped, very convincingly, he thought.

"Any negative side effects?" she asked, looking to Sam for the answer.

Sam swallowed hard, trying desperately not to look at his brother. "Er…no," he lied. "Not really."

"Well, that's good, right?" Mer asked, glancing between the two of them, trying to make sense of the shift in demeanor.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Yeah, it's good." He cracked a feeble smile.

Mer returned his smile uneasily, rising from her seat. "I'm gonna go put some more coffee on," she announced. "Anyone else want any?"

Dean chuckled. "You're a caffeine junkie, you know that?"

"So, you're saying you don't want any, then?" Mer asked, raising her eyebrows in a taunting sort of way.

"Hey, I've been up since before dawn," Dean reminded her.

"So have I," Mer hit back. "That bed was freezing after you left."

"Well, I'll make sure to light the stove before I leave tomorrow morning," Dean ensured her, his voice taking on a gentler quality that Sam was sure he'd never heard.

Sam watched as his brother touched Mer's hand as she breezed by on her way to the door, warranting a small smile on her part. Dean watched her every step of the way until the front door swung shut behind her.

"Dean, you have to tell her," Sam found himself saying in a quiet voice.

Snapping out of his stupor, Dean threw him a stormy look. "I know," he admitted gruffly. He rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks with a look of such utter distress that Sam felt like he should take it back. "God dammit, I know."

"Or you could—"

"I know what you're gonna say," Dean interjected. "And you can shove it. Absolutely not. You know the terms."

Sam clamped his mouth shut in defeat.

Dean let out a heavy sigh. "My plan was to tell her the first night I was here, you know, get it over with. But she's had a tough year, Sammy. I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

Sam nodded understandingly. "How long you planning on staying?" he asked.

"Couple more days," Dean replied. "Then we gotta get back out there. Can't spend my last year sitting around."

"You could, you know," Sam told him genuinely. "No one would blame you if you wanted to spend your last year happy."

Dean gave him a hard look. "I'm happiest when I'm out there ganking demons," he made clear. "The least I can do with my last trip around the sun is put as many of those bastards out of commission as possible."

"Okay, maybe not the whole year," Sam revised. "But…this doesn't have to be the end for you and Mer. We come through Colorado all the time, you know, we could—"

"There is no 'me and Mer,'" Dean corrected sharply. "There's Mer and there's me. We live separate lives. You think I'd let her rely on someone like me?"

"What do you mean, 'someone like you?'" Sam questioned, at a loss. "Dean, from what I can tell—"

"You've been here, what? Five minutes?" Dean demanded, his voice rising above the low level they had been maintaining. "You don't know anything about this, Sam, so why don't you shut your damn mouth?"

Sam sat back in his chair, forced into silence.

"Are you two bickering out here?" came Mer's voice from the door as she edged it open with her hip.

Dean and Sam disengaged, both shifting awkwardly in their seats and looking anywhere but at each other. "'Course not," Dean assured Mer, just barely able to muster a smile in her direction.

"Nothing a little cake can't fix, I hope," Mer said, choosing to ignore the palpable tension in the air. She was holding the coffee pot in one hand and a plate in the other. "I forgot we had some of this left from a couple days ago. Should be good still."

Dean helpfully took the plate from her as Sam cleared a spot in the center of the table for it. Mer reclaimed her seat, pouring them each a cup of coffee in turn.

"It looks great, Meredith," Sam piped up as he cut himself a piece of the cake.

"You can call me Mer," she insisted, glancing at Sam warmly.

When she moved to put a piece on Dean's plate, he held up a hand to her. "No, thanks, Mer," he said. "I'm full."

"Full?" Mer questioned, her eyebrows raising practically to her hairline. She looked between the two of them, all too acutely. She put a hand on Dean's knee beneath the table. "Look, I can make myself scarce if you two need to—"

"It's fine," Dean interjected, his voice soft despite his urgency. "It's fine, Mer, honest." He held her gaze for a moment before he needed to look away. "I think I just need a minute, if that's okay."

"Of course," Mer responded, watching him as he rose from his seat.

"Moose!" Dean called, descending the porch steps. "Come on, girl." The mastiff bounded after him as trudged across the lawn. He glanced over his shoulder at Mer. "I'm just gonna take her for a spin. Be right back."

"Right," Mer answered, nodding compliantly.

"I've never seen him refuse cake," Sam joked stiffly, trying his best to smooth over the situation.

Mer was staring after Dean absentmindedly. "I just…" She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I could tell something was on his mind the moment he got here—and I know he doesn't wanna tell me, whatever it is." She picked up the small cream pitcher and tipped it over her coffee mug.

"You know him pretty well, huh?" Sam questioned, his expression open.

"Yeah, I do," Mer answered, nodding. "I mean, we tell each other a lot—I would venture to say 'everything,' but I know you boys probably have more secrets than I care to know about."

Sam had to smile at that. "Well, I'm glad to know he's had you all these years," he admitted, expression sobering somewhat. "He keeps everything close to the vest, you know? He'll rarely talk to me. I was starting to worry he never talked to anyone about anything…ever."

"I mean, this last year he did as good as," Mer admitted with fleeting guilt. "We…haven't been in touch."

"Is that my fault?" Sam asked with an earnestness that reminded Mer that he was a younger brother. "I mean, if he hadn't been working so hard to keep this all a secret from me…"

Mer was shaking her head. "There were a lot of things going on—for both of us," she reassured him. "I mean, it sounds like you two have had a hell of a year. I know I have." She shrugged a shoulder. "Even as far as long-distance friendships go, your brother's and mine is pretty atypical, wouldn't you say?"

Sam nodded, half-smiling. "I guess I'm just still confused about how…" He gave Mer a look of utter confusion. "How?"

Chuckling, Mer took a sip of her coffee. "How did this happen? How does it work? I saw the looks you were giving us. You don't have much of a poker face, Sam."

"I mean…you two are so different," Sam said, still perplexed. "You're warm a-and kind and so open. And Dean is…well, Dean is Dean."

"Our pain's the same," Mer answered simply.

Sam was staring at her in rapt attention.

"We both grew up under authoritarian fathers, for one," Mer explained. "And I hope you don't think I mean to disparage your daddy," she added quickly, realizing her misstep. "From what I gather, he was a good man. Had a little tunnel vision, maybe, but…he cared for you boys in his own way. Mine, on the other hand…"

"Dean told me," Sam told her, not wanting to make her say it. He shook his head. "I'm really sorry."

"Thank you," Mer responded with a half-smile. She paused for a moment as the thought of her mom washed through her, the silence drawing out before she spoke again. "Anyway, I guess the thing all our conversations end up coming back to is the concept of 'home.'" She sipped her coffee contemplatively. "I grew up in a house that never felt like one, and you boys grew up on the road. Home was just a concept to both of us back then."

"And now?" Sam wondered.

Mer smiled to herself, but it was fleeting. "I found it here," she replied. "Then I lost it early last year. I've had to fight really hard, but I think I'm getting it back."

Sam's brow furrowed, not knowing what to make of what she had said.

"I met a man that was a little too much like my own father, if you catch my drift," Mer filled in the gap for him. She instinctively reached over her shoulder to touch her scar. "There was no home here while he had access to it."

"I'm sorry," Sam said again. He observed her carefully, his face a mask of compassion.

"Having Dean back in my life has helped," Mer admitted. "He's a good man, your brother. I know he's not perfect, but over the years he's made me realize that maybe home doesn't always have to be a place, you know? It's enough to feel safe with someone, and understood by them."

She sipped her coffee with a faraway look. "So, you're wondering why we've held on all these years? I think it's because even back then we found something in each other that we just couldn't put down," she admitted softly.

Sam nodded, feeling like she had punched him in the stomach for a plethora of reasons. The way she spoke made him think of Jess, then of Dean and the horrible future that awaited him—and now Mer—once his brother's time ran out.

"You all right, Sam?" Mer wondered, staring at him across the table in a way that made him feel incredibly transparent. "I didn't mean to get all deep on you there." She let out a self-conscious chuckle.

"Yeah. Just made me think of me and Jess a little bit," Sam responded, only half-withholding. He looked up to see a look cross Mer's face, and he instantly knew he had said something wrong. "Er…not that you and Dean are…I mean, I know you two are just friends."

"Well, we're not just friends," Mer replied, a reddish hue appearing in her cheeks. "Strictly speaking."

She surprised him by laughing. "Dammit. You totally gave me an out there and I didn't take it."

Sam couldn't help but chuckle along with her. "It's complicated?" he offered.

"It's complicated," Mer agreed, nodding. "And…everything we just talked about? Dean knows all of it, of course, but he'd be mortified if I told you any of it. So—"

"Your secret's safe with me," Sam assured her, a knowing smile on his face.


Sam had insisted on clearing the table and doing dishes, so Mer took the opportunity to check on Dean down at the dock. She brought a piece of cake and a mug of reheated coffee with her.

"May I approach?" she asked to his back.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Of course. It's not you I'm mad at."

Mer smiled knowingly. "You and Sam can't spend more than a few minutes together without getting into it," she joked, taking a seat beside him on the end of the dock, legs dangling freely over the water. She tried to hand over the coffee and cake, but Dean refused it, shaking his head.

"We need to talk," he told her somberly.

Mer's brow knit together. "We're talking right now, aren't we?" she questioned, voice rife with anxiety as she set down the plate and mug beside her.

Dean silently took her hand, feeling how warm it was in his. He turned his face and met her eyes bravely, still unsure if he'd be able to utter a single syllable.

"Dean…" Mer murmured, eyes frantically searching his face.

"I lied before," he confessed to her, placing his other hand on top of hers and holding on tight. "When I told you we brought Sam back with a spell. Truth is…" He drew in a shaky breath and let it out, feeling like his chest might cave in. "He was dead for a week. And I-I couldn't take it, Mer. I couldn't—" He shook his head, the tightness in the back of his throat rendering him speechless. Swallowing hard, he readied himself for the worst. "I went to a crossroads and I made a deal with a demon."

"What?" Mer questioned. "What does that even…?"

"My life for his, Mer," Dean explained, the truth pouring out like he had no control over it. "With a year to burn."

Mer's eyes widened in horror and for a moment she was too stunned to feel the impact of his confession. Then, she seemed to collect herself. "A year from when?" she asked matter-of-factly, though her voice was barely audible.

"Little over a week ago," Dean replied.

Mer nodded, tears brimming as she turned to look out over the lake. "Oh, Dean…" she uttered heavily, her tone betraying her devastation. But in the way she sighed, he could almost detect exasperation. "I-I don't even…"

"I'm sorry," Dean told her, full of remorse. "But I did what I had to do. I couldn't live without him, Mer. I wasn't strong enough."

Mer blinked several times and Dean could see her tears glistening as they were flicked free. Her shoulders began to shake as she succumbed, turning away from him and covering her mouth with her free hand.

"Please, say something," Dean begged as the seconds turned to minutes. He still squeezed Mer's hand in his, afraid to let go.

It took Mer a few more beats to pull herself together enough to speak. "What do you want me to say?" she questioned earnestly, turning to look at him. Her face was blotchy and tear-streaked. "There's no way I can respond without sounding selfish," she admitted, face contorting as another rush of tears came.

"Say it," Dean urged gently. "I'm all ears."

Mer let out a heavy breath. "All I keep thinking is…I feel like I just got you back," she confessed, shaking her head as she stared out over the water. "And wh-what…what am I going to do without you?"

"You'll be fine, believe me," Dean tried, clearing his throat gruffly.

"If you say 'better off,' I swear to God, Dean," Mer snapped, suddenly angry. She ripped her hand out of his and pushed herself to stand on her unsteady legs.

"Mer—" Dean rose with her, startled by the sudden change.

"You always play this card," Mer accused, pointing at him.

"What card?" Dean demanded. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You act like…like you're nothing to me," Mer explained desperately. "Or like I'd be better off if I didn't know you at all." She sniffed hard. "You come blowing through town acting like you're putting me out just to have you around for a couple days. Like you're some sort of burden. But if you only knew…" She had to stop to catch her breath, new tears bubbling to the surface.

"Mer, look—"

"Don't," Mer interjected, putting up a hand. "I'm not finished. I need you to hear me tell you this, Dean—because you think so little of yourself and it kills me to watch. You're so sure you're not worth anybody's time that you can't see how much I care about you. You're my best friend. I can't talk to anybody like I talk to you."

Dean was stunned into silence, tucking his chin in near shame. Mer approached him, grabbing his face in both hands in an almost forceful way. She hiked his face up so he had to look at her.

"I love you, Dean." She said it in no uncertain terms, brown eyes boring into his with a fierceness that reverberated through him. She had to swallow hard before continuing. "I respect whatever decision you had to make—I do," she assured him, voice ragged. "I know you'd go to any lengths for Sam. But I hate to think you did it because you think your life is worthless—because it's not. Not to me."

Dean took a half-step closer, angling his head down as if to kiss her. They hovered there for what seemed like never-ending moments, both poised but neither making the final move. Eventually, the spell was broken and they both stepped back, falling away from each other.

"I need some time with this," Mer told him, not meeting his eyes. Without another word, she turned and retreated up the dock, back toward the house. She whistled for Moose and together they headed out on the perimeter road.