Chapter 4:

Candy watched curiously as Dean paced around the room, talking to Bobby on the phone. They had gotten lucky, and Bobby's house was exactly where Sam had gone for shelter. Dean told Bobby to keep Sam there and keep an eye on him because there was an angel looking for him. When he asked Bobby if he had any idea why, Bobby told him no. The angel had told Dean that Sam was "aiding the enemy", but no one knew what that really meant. The Winchester brothers had more enemies than Candy could count, and she had no idea why Sam would be helping any of them.

"Alright," Dean sighed, sitting on the bed beside Candy once he was off the phone. "We're going to go see this man's wife." Dean handed her a picture of a middle aged man named Donald Ruthers, whose throat had been slashed. "A few days ago, he bought an old wardrobe from the antique store for his daughter. Then, yesterday, his wife came home from dropping the little girl off at a friend's house and found her husband on the floor in front of the wardrobe with his throat cut. He bled out."

"Well... Sounds like a pretty typical case. Should be easy. Let's split up," Candy suggested.

"Hold it, Velma, I don't think we should be splitting up. When does that ever work out for us?" Dean scoffed. "How about we both go together to talk to Donald's wife?"

"Or," Candy smiled, leaning over to kiss Dean softly, "you go see the wife, and I'll go talk to the store owners. You can take me and drop me off, then come back and get me when you're done with the lady."

"Fine, but call me every chance you get."

"Yes, Dad."

"I'm serious, Candy. Keep in touch. I don't like you doing things on your own, and you know that."

"Even though I'm perfectly capable," she rolled her eyes. She got up from the bed and grabbed her purse from the table by the door. "Let's go. The sooner we get this case taken care of, the sooner we can get back to Bobby's and get Sam."

"You sure are worried about Sammy."

"Aren't you?" Candy frowned. "He's your brother, Dean."

"Yeah, I know, Candy."

"Then what's your deal? Don't you want to know what's going on with him? And make sure he's okay?" She watched Dean's face, hoping to understand what was wrong with him by seeing it in his eyes. Dean's eyes always gave away so much. "Are you worried about something, Dean?"

"Of course. I'm always worried."

"What is it?"

"I'm worried that... With Sam back..."

"I'll run back to him?" Candy finished his sentence for him. "As if the past year didn't happen? Dean..." She took a deep breath and sat back down on the bed with him. "Listen to me. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not that kind of girl, Dean. I know people think that because I was a bartender and wore revealing clothing because it got me better tips, I was the kind of person to bounce around when it came to men. I'm not, Dean. You know that. I've spent this past year with you. Falling for you. Being in love with you. Sure, I love Sam, but I love Sam in the kind of way that Bobby loves Sam. Not really family, but the closest thing we have."

"I just... Candy, I've never wanted something so badly."

"I know... And I know you're worried about Sam, too. So let's get this case done and get back to Bobby's. Come on. Let's go," Candy smiled. Dean finally agreed and stood to walk with Candy to the Impala.

He drove Candy out to the antique shop. It was tinier than they expected, but it was well kept on the outside except for the sidewalk that was overgrown with weeds. The sign above the door said "Walden's Antique Galleria". Candy got out of the car, turned back to wave to Dean, then walked inside. The inside somehow seemed bigger than she thought it would from the view of the outside. It was littered with antiques of every size, shape, and condition. Everything from porcelain animals to desks and dressers. The store smelled exactly how Candy expected it to. Old.

"Welcome!" A cheery old man called to her from behind the front counter. "Any idea what you're looking for today, Miss?"

"No, sir," Candy said politely. "My mother is a huge fan of antiques, and her birthday is coming up, so I wanted to get her something she would really like." She stepped closer to the counter, but stopped to look in the glass display case underneath. "Any idea what she might like?"

"We have a wonderful set of fine china in the back," the man beamed. "I bet your mother would like it. Or maybe she would like something more unique. We recently got a whole new lot of antiques, and there's a beautiful music box that I'm sure she would love. I could go get it for you."

"Sure, that'd be great," Candy nodded. The man walked through a door behind the counter, leaving Candy alone for the moment. She thought about calling Dean, but she had seen him only moments ago. She didn't need to check in with him, not yet. The man didn't take long. He brought out the music box and set it on the counter. It was beautiful, she had to admit. It was delicately painted light pink with vines and white roses twisting around the base. The shape of the box was simply that of a pentagonal prism, which contradicted the elegant paint design.

"I told you it was beautiful," the man chuckled.

"Yeah. It is. How much do you want for it?" Candy grinned down at the music box excitedly. "I really think she'll enjoy it."\

"Well, I'll tell you what," he looked up at her. "I'll take ten bucks for it, and all you have to do is come again."

"I'm sure I will," Candy laughed. She dug through her purse until she found her wallet, then she paid the man. "Before I go, I just have a few questions. Do you mind answering them?"

"Not at all."

"Not too long ago, a man named Donald came in and bought a wardrobe for his little girl. Can you tell me about the wardrobe?" Candy asked. The man shrugged his shoulders.

"Came from an estate sale that flopped. It's a shame. All of the stuff that woman had was really beautiful."

"How'd she die?"

"I don't know. Mrs. Bowers was kind of eccentric, so I guess no one really cared that she died. She liked my store, though," the man explained. "Thanks for your purchase. I expect to see you again."

"Yeah. You will," Candy smiled again before leaving the store. She stood outside, and she immediately called Dean. Dean said that the wife wouldn't let him inside but that he had gotten some information out of her. He didn't want to talk on the phone too long while, so he told her he would tell her everything when he picked her up. When he hung up, Dean said that he was on his way to get her then.

After Dean picked her up, they went to a local diner for lunch together. They sat down at a table near the back of the room where no one was sitting. Dean ordered a beer and a piece of pie, while Candy ordered just a chocolate milk. He admired some of the child-like things about Candy. Like how she still loved chocolate milk.

"The store owner said that the wardrobe came from an estate sale. A woman died, I don't know how, and they tried to sell her things but no one would buy them. They ended up at the shop," Candy told him after taking a sip of her milk through a bendy straw.

"Who was she?"

"He called her Mrs. Bowers. Shouldn't be too hard to look up and find. There can't be many old ladies with the last name Bowers in Arcadia. What did Donald's wife tell you?" Candy wondered.

"She said Donald had been acting strange the day he died," Dean grumbled. "Said he complained about a rash on his foot and leg, but he wouldn't show anyone. He said it wasn't a problem, but the lady said he seemed to be in a lot of pain. He didn't go to work that day. The little girl acted like she knew something though. She was peering around the mom's leg, and she kept trying to talk but the mom shut her up."

"So we have to get to the little girl somehow. Maybe you should let me do it. I'm sure I'll be a little less intimidating than you," Candy suggested sweetly.

"Anyways," Dean rolled his eyes, "what's with the music box?"

"The guy showed it to me, and I thought it was cute," she shrugged indifferently. "I had a music box when I was a kid, and it was kinda like this one. So... I spent ten dollars on it."

"That's not too bad."

"I didn't think so either."

"Well, I'm done for today. We can find something to kill time, then go back to the hotel room," Dean stretched his arm out to his sides.

"Or we could go back to the hotel room and kill time there." Candy rubbed Dean's foot with hers, biting her lip seductively. "Take a shower... Crawl into bed together."

"How I do love those showers," Dean smirked. "The problem is... I thought I should take you out tonight. We'll go to a bar. Play some pool. Get something to drink."

"And you'll hussle some money out of some big guys playing poker or pool. I get it..." Candy looked down at her lap. "To keep me from having to pick up a job there, then bail mysteriously a couple days later..."

"I don't have much of a choice."

"I'd rather work there. I hate when you get into fights with guys bigger than you, Dean."

"I always win."

"But you get hurt sometimes, too."

"We'll go out tonight. Get some money. It'll be fine, Candy, I promise," Dean frowned. He reached across the table and grabbed her hand gently. "I'll make it up to you, okay? I'll find a night, and I'll take you out for real. To a nice, fancy resteraunt somewhere. One of those places you have to buy new clothes to go to. I promise. Just be patient with me. Okay?"

"You're so lucky I love you, Dean Winchester," Candy huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine... We'll go to a bar."

"That's my girl."