Hands clasped over her head, Tink stretched, flashing a quick glimpse of pale stomach that she probably wasn't aware of. I was, but I doubt that's a surprise at this point. I was also very aware of how close her feet—and those ridiculous socks—were to my leg. Every time she wiggled her toes, she brushed against me, which I also don't think she was aware of. Best compliment I've ever gotten. (Nope, he's not sentimental at all. -Tink)

"Is it your turn yet? I can't remember the last time I talked about myself this much. Literally." Tilting her head against the back of the seat, she looked at me and smiled, her lids heavier than they probably should have been. She was going to need some coffee soon or she'd end up asleep before I'd fulfilled my part of the bargain. "I was heavily medicated at the time and it really fucks with your head."

"Not unless you lived under a rock for the last fifteen years." I took a second to try and figure out if she was kidding about the heavily medicated thing but gave up pretty quick. It was impossible to tell, not that it mattered much beyond the fact that I was more disturbed by the thought of her drugged or in the hospital than I really should have been at that point. (Spoiler: I was serious. -Tink) "How long were you in the hospital after your failed baptism?"

"A few days, I think? That was the first time I went to stay with Grandma." She shrugged a shoulder and blinked up at me, looking like she was trying to figure out exactly how many days before deciding it wasn't important enough to bother. (He knows me so well. -Tink) "I was with her for about three months, give or take, then the courts said Mama could have me back."

"I'm thinkin' that wasn't the best call on their part." Because that's not the understatement of the fucking century. Clearing my throat, I had to sit back and cross my arms to keep from just laying a hand on her ankle or something. Not the first time I'd had to resist the urge to reach for her and certainly wouldn't be the last. And do you know how frustrating that is? (My guess would be about as frustrating as wanting to be touched while also really not. -Tink)

"I'm thinkin' you just might be right." To go by the smile on her face, you'd think we were talking about things that had happened in an episode of some crappy police procedural involving douchebags that wear sunglasses indoors and not her life. "There wasn't a lot after that. Mama got married when I was nine, but that didn't last too long. By the time I was twelve, he was gone. Took off with my science teacher. Last I heard, they were headed to Florida." Her smile turned into a grin and she giggled. (I do not giggle. -Tink) "Too bad, too. Mr. Weston was a great teacher."

"Mr? Didn't expect that." Not that there's anything wrong with that. (No comment, but that reminds me, Cas says it's your turn to clean the bathroom. -Tink) "I take it your step-Dad was nothing to write home about."

"I'll put it this way, if my mother was a raging dumpster fire of a human being, Benedict is like the round metal bins the homeless use for warmth. Still a trash fire, just a much smaller bin."

—I'd just like to say that I have since met Benedict and I think this is a pretty generous comparison on Tink's part, but she's a lot more forgiving than I am. (I can't really dispute that. The man can hold a grudge. -Tink)—

"You should write a children's book."

I was only half kidding—I think she's got a great way with the whole imagery thing—but she seemed to think the idea was pretty damn funny. Between peels of laughter that filled the car, she managed to squeeze out a few words, eventually stringing together an entire sentence, "I'm firmly against traumatizing children, but thanks."

"Any time." I could feel myself grinning like an idiot and not a damn thing I could do about it. She was just so fucking cute when she laughed, I'd quite happily spend the rest of my life trying to make her do it as often as possible. (Wasn't that in your marriage vows somewhere? -Tink) "So what about after Benedict? I can't imagine your mom took that well."

"She took it-I don't know, she just took it. I don't think she really cared, honestly, but I don't think she ever cared about anyone or anything that wasn't her, you know? After that, the status stayed pretty quo for awhile." Shifting in her seat, she pulled her legs in to sit cross-legged, much to my disappointment because it meant she stopped accidentally touching me. Yeah, I know, it wasn't much, but I was more than happy to take what I could get in the early days. Her smile faded as she continued, which was a damn shame. It always is. "...then Mama died."

"Please tell me you danced on her grave."

"Not quite, but I appreciate the sentiment." A wry smile tugging up one corner of her lips, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the glass. Probably to avoid looking at me. Knowing her as well as I do now, there isn't a doubt in my mind that what she was about to tell me was the single most nerve-wracking thing she'd talked about all day. And that's saying something. (He's not wrong. -Tink) "The day after she died, I uh-I wound up back in the hospital." Wrapping her arms around herself, she didn't so much as twitch an eyelid and there was no trace of the laughter from a few minutes before. "Still no idea how I got there and that is one mystery I would love to solve."

I was as confused as she sounded right then. For the life of me, I could not connect the dots between 'mom died' and 'I was hospitalized'. Or maybe I just didn't want to. "You lost me, Tinkerbell."

That made her crack a lid and she narrowed her eyes at me. I could see the gears grinding in her brain as she decided whether or not to kick up a fuss about the nickname that was rapidly becoming my favorite thing ever. I'm not sure if she decided it wasn't worth it or she knew how bad I was about to feel because she just smiled sweetly, letting it slide. "It turns out, the authorities really don't like it when you try to remove yourself from the gene pool." Closing her eyes again, she leaned her head back, that sweet smile turning just a little bitter. Not my favorite expression, but one I've since seen more than a few times since. "I haven't figured out yet if I'm just stubborn as fuck or if God's really pissed at me for somethin' and wants me to suffer, though, 'cause somehow I'm still here."

Opening her eyes, she lifted her head to look at me and her smile turned a little more genuine as she noted the look on my face. If 'physically nauseous' qualifies as a look. The thought of her being 'removed from the gene pool', let alone at her own hand, was more than enough to make me feel a little green. (He looked like he'd been punched. Like, literally the same look he gets when he's slugged in the stomach. Which I have seen way too often, thanks-Tink) "I'm kidding, Dean. Mostly, anyway."

"That's not funny."

"Matter of opinion." With another shrug, she leaned her head back again but didn't close her eyes this time, watching me from under heavy lids and long lashes. "I was in the hospital for about a month before I was taken in as a ward of the state and transferred to a 'mental health facility'." Yes, she used air quotes and all. It was obvious she was not a big fan and knowing what I know now, I can't say as I blame her. "I was there for another hundred and forty-seven days before being released to go live with Grandma, but a lot of that is pretty fuzzy."

"The 'heavily medicated' thing."

"Indeed." I don't know if she was expecting me to judge her or look at her different or what, but it didn't take long for her to start to relax again when I did no such thing. "To make a very long story slightly less so, after I moved in with Grandma I became her caretaker. Graduated high school. Then a couple months back a spot opened up at Shady Pines in New Orleans and we packed a bag and flew down. I was supposed to get her settled and go back to Oklahoma but I ended up stayin' a little longer than planned." And good thing, too, or we never would have met. (He knows as well as I do that there's no such thing as coincidence. -Tink) "Then one day after a ten-hour shift I was walkin' home to my shitty 'efficiency' apartment and stumbled over this guy gettin' his ass handed to him by this really creepy woman with Force powers and here we are."

"I was not getting my ass handed to me." Okay, you know what, she wasn't (totally) wrong. I still think I probably would have managed eventually without her interference but there is a chance she may very well have saved my ass.. (He admits it! Finally! Someone call Guinness because this has got to be some kind of record. -Tink) "You know, I got to say, it's been an interesting few days. I know it probably don't mean much comin' from me, but I'm kinda glad you're still around."

"So am I, most days. Increasingly so, actually." You know earlier when I said that her not realizing she was accidentally touching me was the best compliment I've ever gotten? I lied. (He says that about almost every compliment I've ever given him so take that with a grain of salt. -Tink) "I'd say it's definitely your turn, Winchester."

"Fair enough." Straightening, I stretched before taking a quick look at my watch. Just past midnight, though it sure as shit didn't feel that late. I guess time really does fly. "How about I run up and go check on Sam, then we can go grab that food you promised to make me." With a grin, I held up a hand, cutting off the protest I could feel coming. "I'll talk while you shop."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"...let me paint a picture for you, then I'll have to teach you to see it. Illustrate the remnants of the life I used to live here in Eden. Rolled a lucky pair of dice, ended up in paradise, landed on a snake's eyes, took a bite and ended up bleedin'..."

I heard the music as I rounded the corner to the parking lot, Tink's voice clearly audible through the open windows. Apparently it wasn't cold enough to prevent her from rolling them all down so she could jack up the volume. It's still a wonder to me that she's not deaf yet.

"...walking in the garden was a serpent-shaped heart and he told me, 'what is broken cannot show and less than beautiful is worse than unholy.' Idolized my innocence, stole it from me in the end. Now I'm wide awake and still paying for the poison they sold me…"

Slouched down in the passenger seat with her eyes closed and her knees jammed against the dash, she didn't hear me until I got in the car, only prying her eyes open after I'd shut the door and turned the radio down. "Hey, I was listenin' to that. Rude."

"Yeah, well, start listening to real music and we'll talk." She likely would have responded a little quicker to that, but that was right about when she got a denim jacket to the face. Couldn't have her freezing to death in the frozen food section. (See? Rude. -Tink)

"What, like Led Zeppelin? Expand your horizons, Winchester." Glancing over at me, she sat up enough to pull her jacket on before leaning back against the seat, her smile turning into a bratty smirk that was more than enough to let me know she was about to say something bitchy as she nodded to the cardboard box sitting in the floorboard next to her boots. (Men who live in glass houses shouldn't criticize other people's musical choices. -Tink) "Is there a single tape in there that isn't John's?"

"...no."

"I didn't-" I'm not sure if she's just always been good at reading a room in general or just me specifically, but it only took about half a second for her to figure out she'd hit a nerve. Considering she'd been intentionally calling me out about my 'daddy issues' for the last week and a half, it was hilarious how quick she backtracked when she implied it on accident. (In quotes? Really? Did you 'backtrack' into denial? Is this a thing we're doing now? Also, I want to go on record and state that dude really isn't hard to read. I told you, dude growls. -Tink) "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like-"

"I know you didn't." She has this habit of getting flustered when she thinks she's hurt someone's feelings and it's just the cutest fucking thing. Also impossible to stay mad at. It's a real pain in the ass, but I think I've mentioned that. "You don't have to apologize."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek while she decided whether or not to take me at my word or apologize again anyway, just to be on the safe side, then decided to go off in a whole different direction. Or so I thought. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"I don't see why not." She'd spent the entire evening telling me gruesome details about her life and had to ask if she could tell me a secret? Okay. Sure. "Who am I gonna tell?"

"I like classic rock." She relaxed back into her seat and smiled brightly as she revealed her 'secret' before leaning over to grab her boots. "And just rock in general. And alternative." She started pulling them on, a reminder that we were supposed to be heading to Walmart or wherever and not sitting in the parking lot. "I mean, nothing wrong with Britney Spears or Katy Perry, they're fun to dance to, but I'd rather listen to Kansas or Lynyrd Skynyrd."

Starting the car, I moved to throw it in gear to reverse out and promptly threw it back into park as that last part made its way into my brain. I couldn't glare good enough while driving and that definitely deserved a good glare. "...then why the hell are you always changin' the station and givin' me shit about-" Okay. Stupid question. I knew it as soon as I said it. She'd done it specifically to annoy the shit out of me. And it worked. "Alright, that's fair. ...can I tell you a secret?"

She finished pulling on her boots and leaned back, arching a brow at me as she threw my words back at me. Again. Though to be fair, I do that to her a lot, too. Unfortunately, she's better at getting the tone right, I just come off as a dick. (Only sometimes. -Tink) "I don't see why not. Who am I gonna tell?"

"I can sing."

"Bullshit." I think the word was out of her mouth before she even realized, but no way was she taking that one back. Turning in her seat so she could see me better, she eyed me skeptically before a smile I didn't particularly like crept across her lips. Crossing her arms, she leaned back against the door and smirked when her gaze met mine. "You realize that now you're gonna have to prove it, right?"

Was I lying? No. Was I a performing monkey? …I choose not to answer that. "Not gonna happen."

"Aww, you're shy." No, I'm not. (Yes he is. -Tink) "That's so cute." I also totally wasn't turning bright red right about then, because that's not a thing that I do. (...ahaha. -Tink) "Suck it up, Winchester, you totally owe me for hours of aural torture." Leaning over to flip the radio back on, she must have caught my expression at that one because she just shook her head and rolled her eyes as she sat back. "...I said aural, you perv." Crossing her legs, she sat with her elbows on her knees, leaning forward and gazing at me with exaggerated adoration. The girl could win an Oscar, I shit you not. "Now come on, serenade me, Romeo."

How was I supposed to say no to that? I had the feeling that if I'd tried, I probably would never have heard the end of it, so better to just give in and get it over with. At least that's the excuse I'm going to use and it's not at all that I wanted to impress her or anything. "...fine."

Reaching for the radio, I flipped through the stations and tried to find a decent song and tried to ignore the mouthy little girl in the passenger seat. It is absolutely amazing how much attitude she can put in a look without ever needing to open her mouth, a talent she uses to annoy me daily.

I settled on something familiar and sat back, clearing my throat and just hoping I wasn't about to make a giant ass of myself.

I admit, I was a little skeptical when Dean suddenly claimed he could sing. After all, I'd been listening to that off-key, tone-deaf screeching of his for going on a week and a half and it hadn't occurred to me that he was being obnoxious. Surely no one could be that bad on purpose, right? Yeah, turns out they can and if they're a total asshole, they will.

"...when I'm down, give me somethin' stronger. Turn it all around, keep me goin' longer. When I'm feelin' low, and livin' far away, all I need is to be with the one I believe that'll save me…"

And there went my skepticism. He wasn't lying, he can sing. And for the curious, he's good. Like, really good. Better than me, that's for damn sure. The man has the kind of voice that gives you goosebumps and sends a shiver up your spine, full and deep, like if whiskey were a song. And by that I mean the boy's got bass. Total panty-dropper.

"...when I'm down, so broken down, won't you carry me away. Carry me away, where I belong. All I need is to call you home, won't you carry me away-" And that's about as far as he got before I regained the power of speech. (Yeah, she never loses that for long. -Dean)

"You are such a dick. Oh my fucking God, Winchester." Exasperated, I probably would have strangled him if I thought I could get away with it, or if I thought I actually had a chance of winning a fight without getting squashed like a bug. The fact that he was laughing didn't help any. "It's not funny! You've been screeching at me like a barn owl when you can-" Cutting myself off, I huffed at him as I sat back and crossed my arms, trying hard to keep a smile off my face as I turned to look out my open window. "I'm not talkin' to you ever again."

Did he just snort? Yes. Yes, he did. "If only."