Dean stooped to collect his cake plate and coffee mug, defeated. He sulked back to the cabin, where he found Sam seated in one of the armchairs, nose in a book about native plants. Opting not to speak, Dean continued on toward the kitchen sink, dumping the cold coffee down the drain and unceremoniously sliding the slice of cake into the trash beneath. Then, he set about washing the dishes that had piled up since that morning.

"Never thought I'd see the day you were doing dishes," Sam joked cautiously as he approached the breakfast bar, resting his forearms on it as he watched his brother.

"Yeah, well," Dean grunted noncommittally.

"So, you told her, huh?" Sam surmised, plunging his way into the deep end.

"You're observant," Dean confirmed stiffly, scrubbing noticeably harder with his sponge.

"How'd she take it?" Sam wondered.

The plate Dean had been washing clattered down in the sink as he turned with a flourish. "How do you think she took it?" he growled at his little brother, rounding on him with a scowl. "She's not here, is she? It's not all cake and coffee anymore. I might as well hit the road, for all she cares."

Sam's eyebrows lifted practically to his hairline. "You really think that's what she wants?" he wondered, doubt clear in his tone.

"I don't know," Dean admitted, suddenly sober. "I don't know what she wants, Sammy, I don't know!" He rushed for the door like a trapped animal, pulling it open and spilling out onto the porch.

"Dean!" Sam called in a worried voice, not having expected his reaction. He followed him out the front door, watching as his older brother paced out onto the lawn in front of the house and took a swing at the nearest tree, his fist connecting in what must have been a painful blow. Then he staggered forward, leaning his shoulder against the trunk for support as he clutched his injured hand.

"Dean?" When Sam finally found the courage to approach, he saw that Dean's shoulders were heaving as if he had just run a sprint. He walked around to the lake side of the tree, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother's face. Dean's eyes were rimmed with red and wet looking, his expression somewhere between fear and despair.

Sam blinked a couple times, knowing he had to tread lightly. "You need to get some ice on that hand," he suggested, knowing sometimes the best way wasn't through but around. "Come on." He nodded back toward the cabin and set off, hoping Dean would follow.

A few minutes later, the two of them were seated on the porch, Dean holding a bag of frozen peas to his hand and both with glasses of bourbon in front of them.

After he had refilled Dean's glass, Sam sat back in his chair. "So, what happened?" he questioned lightly.

Dean scrubbed a hand through his stubble. "I just came out with it," he explained. "Told her point blank. What happened to you. What I did. How long I have."

"And what did she say?"

"Not much at first," Dean admitted. "She's been waiting for the other shoe to drop since I got here—I could just tell—but I don't think she was expecting that."

Sam readjusted his seat, naturally leaning forward to listen.

"Then she started crying," Dean recounted, looking like it pained him. "Told me she understood. She gets that you come first for me, always. That's the most annoying thing about her. She's so damn…"

"Understanding?" Sam tried, lifting his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Dean grunted, taking a hearty sip of his bourbon. "No matter what I tell her—and there's been some stuff over the years—she has this way of just shrugging it all off."

"That's good though, right?" Sam wondered a loud. "I mean, that's why it works with you two."

"This stuff should scare her," Dean insisted, hard-nosed. "The things I've done should make her want to stay the hell away from me. I wish she would."

"Dean, come on," Sam responded, scoffing.

"Come on, what?" Dean demanded.

"There's no way in hell you can convince me you want Mer to stay away from you," Sam said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, squinting at his brother.

"It means…" Sam let out an exasperated sound, looking like he was trying to explain color to someone who'd never seen it. "Dean, I've been your brother for twenty-three years, and today I saw a side of you I've never seen before. I mean, the way you are with Mer, when you're around her, I…I hardly recognize you."

Dean was decidedly silent, taking a brooding sip of his drink.

"You love her, right?" Sam questioned. "You're…in love with her?" He braced himself for an uproar.

Dean stared down into his glass, his face an unreadable mask. Then, he looked up at his brother in resignation. "And what if I was?" he challenged. "Wouldn't matter."

Sam proceeded even more cautiously, feeling like he was dismantling a bomb. "It could."

"Sam, I'm toast in less than 365," Dean retorted, growing angry. "And if I back out of this deal, we're right back where we started. So drop it."

In the tense silence that followed, Dean let out a beleaguered sigh. "Like you said, I just can't seem to leave her the hell alone," he said, scowling inwardly. He ran a hand through his hair, looking so at a loss that Sam barely recognized him. "I never should have showed up here."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Sam replied genuinely. "And I'm glad I found you here."

When Dean gave him a strange look, Sam continued: "Dean, I've seen you with tons of women—probably more than I ever cared to—but I've never seen you in love," he explained, giving his brother an earnest look. "I guess I worried that, you know, all those years being dragged from town to town by dad that you…missed out on this kinda thing."

Dean let out a soft snort, trying his best to hold back a smile as he shook his head. "You're such a girl," he taunted.

"I'm serious," Sam pressed, though he smiled too.

"Well, you're seeing it," Dean said simply, splaying his hands out to the sides. "For all it's worth."

"You could stay here you know," Sam told him.

"Yeah, okay," Dean replied laughably.

"You could," Sam repeated, in all seriousness. "Dean, no one would blame you. Living out your last year here, with the woman you love—"

"No, Sammy," Dean interjected gruffly. "That's not how it works."

"Then how does it work?" Sam demanded.

"I show up when I can, we play house for a couple days, and then I bail," Dean explained. "That's how it's always gone. It's what works best for Mer."

"Are you sure about that?" Sam wondered, disbelieving.

"Yes, I'm sure about that," Dean asserted. "It's been no-strings-attached. Always." He chuckled stiffly. "Hell, she's more 'me' than me about our whole situation."

"Dean, come on," Sam argued. "The way she acts around you isn't 'no strings attached.'"

"That's just her way," Dean admitted defensively. "I mean, you met her. She's warm and she's kind—when you've got her attention she makes you feel like you're the only person in the room. She's been breaking my heart and putting it back for years, Sammy. Trust me."

Sam balked at this statement, but decided he couldn't push the issue further. "Does she know?" he asked instead. "How you feel?"

"I've never told her, if that's what you're asking," Dean replied. "But part of me thinks she knows everything about me, whether I want her to or not." He shrugged.

Sam nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Where is she now?" he wondered.

"She took off," Dean told him. "She's probably halfway up the mountain by now."


Dean's nonchalance about Mer's whereabouts seemed to wear off as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, eventually disappearing behind the towering pines. As the lakefront became cloaked in darkness, he stood out on the porch facing toward the mountains. "Where the hell is she?" he growled, hand nervously rubbing at his stubble. "She's been gone for hours."

Sam had done his best to stave off his brother's worries, but now that it was dark, even he had begun to wonder. "Did you try her phone?" he asked, standing just on the other side of the screen door.

"No reception up there," Dean informed him.

"She has Moose with her," Sam offered, though that wasn't much consolation.

"Dog's a damn coward," Dean grunted, wishing Tiny were still alive. He looked at Sam over his shoulder, face a mask of concern. "You don't think either of us were followed out here, do you?"

"No," Sam answered. "I mean, I don't think so…"

"I'm going up there," Dean decided. He swept back inside, retrieving his gun from where he had stashed it in the bedside drawer. He tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.

"I-I'll go with you," Sam told him, grabbing his jacket off one of the dining chairs.

The telltale jangle of dog tags suddenly met Dean's ears. Eagerly he peered back through the screen door to see Moose trotting across the lawn. He rushed out onto the porch, the screen door slamming behind him. "Mer?" he called.

She was making her way up the road, hands jammed in her coat pockets.

Dean leapt down the porch steps and jogged to meet her.

"What are you all in a tizzy about?" Mer asked as she caught sight of his face.

Dean enveloped her in a hug, a wave of relief washing over him. "You were gone so long," he told her. "I-it got dark. I thought you might have…"

"Gotten lost?" Mer's laugh twinkled over Dean's shoulder. "These are my mountains, remember?"

Dean pulled back and looked down at her. "I thought something might have met you up there," he admitted with grimacing eyes.

Mer gave him a look, but there was warmth behind it. "Someone's paranoid," she appraised.

"Believe me, I'm not," Dean countered.

Mer gazed up at him in the weakness of the faraway porch light, affectionally caressing his cheek. "Dammit," she swore under her breath, quickly averting her face.

It took Dean a moment to realize she was crying.

"I went up there to get this all out," Mer cursed herself, pulling her shirtsleeve up over her hand to dab at her eyes.

"Mer, it's okay," Dean assured her. "I'm sorry I just dropped it on you like that. I…"

"Did you have another option?" Mer wondered, giving up on drying her tears. She let out a soft huff and angled her face back to look at him. "I mean, is there a good way to break that kinda news?"

"Guess not," Dean had to admit, though he still looked guilty. "I'm just sorry. For all of it."

"Well, like I said," Mer responded, straightening up and reaching forward to fix where the collar of Dean's jacket had folded in on itself. "I get it. I hate it…but I get it."

Dean regarded her for a long moment, reaching up to take one of her hands in his good one and noting its ice-like quality. "I love you, too" he murmured. "You know that, right?"

Mer nodded somberly. "Of course I know that," she replied softly. "You've never said as much, but…"

"No, Mer, I mean…" Dean's heart was beating out of his chest. "You know…right?" He stared at her with every bit of intensity he could muster. "God, you gotta know. I need you to know before I…"

Mer looped her hand around the back of Dean's neck and pressed her lips to his. She held them both there, trapped in their embrace, as the seconds ticked by into a small eternity. Eventually they pulled away from each other, inch by inch, until their lips were barely brushing.

"I've been stupid," Mer whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Dean murmured back, eyes searching hers.

"All this time I knew, deep down," Mer admitted. "I guess I just always thought we would have a right time, you know? A 'someday'…" She shook her head.

"Someday?" Dean questioned, somehow finding a smile. "If I remember correctly, it was 'never' not too long ago."

Mer rolled her eyes and smiled too, despite herself. "Really? You're gonna go there?" she wondered.

Dean kissed her forehead. "Maybe…"

"You scared the hell out of me back then," Mer admitted earnestly.

"Really?" Dean murmured into her hair.

"Yeah, and for all the wrong reasons," Mer joked, tone affectionate. "It wasn't the monster-hunting or the gun in your waistband. None of that ever bothered me."

Dean drew in a breath, tensing slightly. "It should have," he responded. "It still should."

"You don't mean that," Mer replied, as unconcerned as if he had told her he was thinking of cutting burgers out of his diet. "You don't want me to quit you anymore than I want to."

"What were you scared of then?" Dean asked, still pondering her previous statement.

Mer leaned into him. "You had the power to derail all my plans," she admitted softly.


Get ready for a flashback, ya'll :)