I'm sorry it's been so long since I updated! I'm going to try to do better. Let me know what you think about this one!

-NINE-

Ten days after she was first put in the hospital, Melinda was released. Dean was let out four days earlier, after spending just five days in the hospital. He had to go through physical therapy for his knee, something he bitched about every single second he possibly could. But when Melinda had to do the same thing for her ankle, he stopped. She'd rub the medicated cream into the cuts on his back every night, and he spent most of his time lounging around with her, being quiet, watching TV and movies.

Three weeks after they'd gotten released from the hospital, when he began hobbling around without the damn cane the doctor insisted he use, Dean found an apartment. It was a small studio, right above a bar that was desperately searching for a bartender. He didn't think he could do it, had convinced himself to just let it slide, and somehow found himself talking to the owner, an older woman who had no idea what she was doing, something she kept repeating to Dean. Her husband had run the bar, and when he'd died three months earlier, all of it fell in her lap. Dean wanted to tell her he was sorry, he wished he could help, maybe some other time. But he found himself reaching across the bar, taking her hand, telling her it would all be all right. And that was how he'd ended up with a job and a place to live, like a—and he shuddered to say it—a normal person.

Jess and Melinda's parents found another two-bedroom for them, a little further away from campus, but a little nicer than their old one. They got through finals in December, sort of skipping over Thanksgiving, even though they all agreed they had lots to be thankful for. Christmas came, and surprisingly, both Dean and Sam got a voicemail from their father. It had been nearly four years since Sam spoke to John, and the last words they exchanged weren't exactly warm and fuzzy. Neither was the voicemail, but it warmed Sam's heart to hear the old man's gruff voice.

"Sam, it's your dad. I just … I just wanted to say Merry Christmas. I know your brother's out there with you, so… Take care of him. Goodbye, Sam."

Short and to the point, which was John Winchester's style. Why use a hundred words when ten will do? Dean's message was a little longer, and put an uneasy feeling in the back of his mind.

"Dean, it's me. I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry for that. There's something … Well, that's not important. I know you're out with Sam, and I know you're taking care of him, the way you always have. That boy's lucky to have you, son. I … I'm lucky to have you. Merry Christmas, Dean."

John wasn't the touchy-feely type, and he'd rather have the hell beat out of him than to share his feelings. The voicemail he left Dean was a longer conversation than the two of them had had since Sam left. Something was up, but Dean didn't know what it was. It worried him, but he buried it, the way he always had when it came to his father, putting on a smile for everyone else.

January was when things started to change.

One dark, windy night, Dean was walking around his apartment, his knee aching due to the incoming storm. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand, from a bottle of the good stuff Bobby had sent him for Christmas. It was cold, especially for California, and when the rain started to fall, the temperature dropped even more. As the lights in the apartment flickered, Dean let out a sigh, walking to the window to see if any other lights on the street were blinking. What he saw made him set down his glass, walk down through the empty bar—it was a school night and even Wade, who drank till last call every time the doors were open, had cleared out early, because of the storm—and out into the cold and the biting rain.

"Mel, what the hell are you doing? It's freezing out here."

She just stood in front of him, her entire body shaking, completely drenched, her hair hanging in long blonde ropes around her face. Her lips were almost blue, and Dean had to blink hard to see her, due to the force of the rain. When lightning lit up the sky, followed almost immediately by a deafening clap of thunder, Dean put his hands on her shoulders.

"Mel, come on inside."

She didn't move, didn't say a word. That was when Dean noticed she was crying.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

Lightning flashed again, and Dean looked up, flinching back at the crack of the thunder, mixed in with the roaring rain. He sighed, moving to take Melinda in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, curling around him, and he got them inside. They were both shivering when they got to the apartment, and Dean went straight to the bathroom, turning the hot water on full blast, filling the room up with steam as he knelt before Melinda.

"Hey. You're worrying me, kid."
"I'm sorry."

Her voice was quiet, almost inaudible. Dean sighed, getting some feeling back in his fingers as he reached over, turning the hot water back and evening it out with some cold, filling up the bathtub.

"What happened?"

He spoke softly, looking back to Melinda, who shut her eyes and shook her head, as tears slid down her cheek. Dean sighed again, standing up to pull his soaked t-shirt off, shuddering when the icy material was gone from his skin. He knelt in front of Melinda again, taking hold of the bottom of her shirt and looking into her eyes. She let out a breath and Dean gently pulled the shirt off. Melinda wrapped her arms around her stomach, curling in on herself.

"Mel. Come on. Get in the tub with me. It will warm you up."

After a moment, she stood up, both of them silently undressing. Dean climbed in the tub, letting out a breath as he sank into the warm water. Melinda stepped in, settling in front of him, and he sat up, as she went under the water. Just when he was starting to get nervous, reaching out for her, she sat up again, gasping and coughing, pushing her hair out of her face. Dean reached out, laying a hand on her cheek.

"Talk to me. Mel, please."

She let out a sigh, moving to rest against him, his wide chest at her back, his arms around her as she rested her head back against his shoulder. He lifted one hand to play with her wet hair and she moved, putting her nose and forehead in his neck. She spoke softly, her breath ghosting across his skin just under his ear.

"Jess and I … had a fight. I told her I didn't want to go to school anymore, and she blew up. We said some horrible things to each other and I couldn't stay there anymore, and I just … I didn't know where else to go. I'm sorry—"
"Don't. Don't ever apologize to me. I …"

He let his sentence trail off, not entirely sure what he wanted to say there. Melinda didn't seem to mind, though, as she just moved closer to him. Dean moved his hand to brush through the hair by her face.

"You always have a place with me, Mel. Always."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she turned her face further into him, and he sighed when he felt her tears against his neck. They got out of the tub and he bundled her into a sweatshirt that was too big for her and flannel pants that were twice her size before wrapping her in a blanket, settling another over her on the couch. He was also wearing a sweatshirt and flannel pants, but his fit. He made hot chocolate for them, trying not to feel like he was Martha fucking Stewart, and walked back to the couch. He sat on the opposite end from her, reaching under the blankets to take hold of her feet, gently rubbing and massaging them. Melinda smiled as she sipped her cocoa.

"That's nice."

Dean winked at her, looking up as the lights flickered again, following an impressive crash of thunder. He shook his head, meeting her eyes.

"Ten bucks says lights go out within the hour."

Melinda smiled.

"You got yourself a bet."

She leaned back, snuggling under the blankets as Dean smiled, still kneading her feet. They finished their cocoa, tried to watch some TV. All that would come in was snow, and they ended up listening to an old Led Zeppelin record on the record player she, Sam, and Jess had all gone together and gotten Dean for Christmas. He'd lit up like their little Christmas tree, nearly driving all of them crazy as he went through the albums he'd collected over the years, and the ones he'd "inherited" from John.

Melinda yawned, leaning against the couch as Travelling Riverside Blues played through the apartment. Dean glanced at his phone and Melinda sat up smiling.

"What time is it?"
"2:07."
"You owe me ten bucks."

Dean laughed, cursing under his breath. The lights flickered again, this time shutting off.

"Well, that's just about right. Like this couldn't have come eight minutes earlier?"

Melinda let out a laugh, but it wasn't the sound he was used to. Dean reached out, taking hold of her hand, trying to ignore the gentle tremble.

"Hey. Everything's okay. I'm right here."

He was sure she was nodding, even though he couldn't see her. He'd learned, in the few months he'd been around her, that Melinda didn't like the dark. She wasn't afraid, really; darkness just made her very uneasy.

"I'm going to get up and find some candles, maybe a flashlight, okay?"

When he didn't hear a response, Dean smiled.

"I can't see you nod, babe."
"Oh, sorry."

He laughed quietly.

"Will you be okay for a few minutes or do you want to come with me?"
"I really don't feel like getting out of this warm cocoon."

Dean laughed, patting her feet.

"All right. Give me five minutes."

He wasn't always the best judge of time, but twelve minutes later, Melinda was holding a flashlight while Dean lit the candles he'd found and brought into the living room.

"I'm kind of glad you and Jess pestered me into letting you decorate. God knows I wouldn't have picked any candles if I'd done it."
"You wouldn't have picked any decorations, either. This place would be boring and dull, if it wasn't for us."
"Go ahead, pat yourself on the back. I don't mind."

Melinda laughed, and Dean blew out the last match.

"There."

He leaned back on the couch, looking at his handiwork. Melinda smiled, nudging him with her toes until he looked over to her.

"This is kind of romantic, don't you think?"

Dean smiled, hanging his head. He and Melinda were incredibly close now. Many times through the Christmas season, someone would find them kissing under the mistletoe. But they hadn't slept together again since before the fire. Every time Dean would feel like they were moving forward in a relationship, Melinda would find some way to step back. They weren't dating, weren't officially a couple, but neither one of them was seeing anyone else. Dean looked over at her before reaching and moving the blankets around.

"Yeah, I think you're right."
"I usually am."

He laughed, pushing the last blanket aside and reaching in, taking Melinda in his arms.

"Shut up."
"You shut up. And kiss me."

Dean laughed again, and Melinda smiled, but he did just as she asked. Her hands wrapped loosely around his neck, brushing through his short hair. Dean's hands were at her back, gently rubbing up and down. Their lips moved together gently, and Melinda let out a sigh. Dean smiled as he kissed from her mouth, down to her jaw, skimming over her neck before going back to her mouth, loving the way her hand tightened in his hair when he hit the spot just under her chin. He sat back as she sank further down into the couch, and he smiled, going to move on top of her, when his phone rang. Melinda jumped, laying a hand over her heart.

"Jesus, what time is it?"

When she said those words, Dean's heart leapt to his throat. It was late, and phone calls at an hour like this were never good. Fleeting thoughts of Dad and Bobby ran through Dean's mind, but there was one that caught on and wouldn't let go.

Sam.

"Damn it, Dean, answer the phone!"

He flinched at Melinda's tone, harsher than she wanted, but the only thing that would get through to him. He reached for the phone, spoke in a shaky voice.

"He—hello?"
"Dean."
"Sammy?"

Thank God.

"Sam, are you okay?"
"What? Of course I am, why would—Oh. Oh shit, Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't even check to see what time it was. I'm fine, Dad's fine, I guess. Bobby, too."

Dean let out a sigh of relief, just then noticing the death grip he'd had on Melinda's hand. He loosened his grip, but she wouldn't let him go.

"You scared the shit out of me, Sam. Don't … don't do that again."
"I'm sorry, man. I didn't even think."

Dean nodded, letting out another breath. Sam sighed, then spoke.

"Is she with you?"

Dean looked back, and Melinda rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, she's here."
"Jess is worried sick about her."

Dean moved the phone away from his mouth.

"He says Jess is worried sick about you."
"Good."

Melinda was just petty enough to say the word, but not to actually mean it. Dean smirked, not saying anything. Sam let out an exasperated sigh.

"Would you tell her to come back? Jess says they need to talk."
"Well, I'm not sure that's such a great idea, Sammy."
"It's really not your business, Dean."
"Really not yours, either."

Sam sighed again, the sound grating on Dean's nerves.

"Dean, you don't know the whole story."
"And you do? If I recall—and I'm pretty sure that I do—you weren't around during their little throwdown."
"That's not the—"
"Yeah, it kind of is. You're giving me a double standard, Sam, and you know how that makes me feel."
"Well, you've done it to me my whole life, so there you go."

Dean stood up. All right. Sam was trying to cover up whatever he was pissed at Dean about, and Dean hadn't been in a good fight for a while. He just had to remember to monitor his words. Lord knew both of John Winchester's sons had inherited his tendency to speak before thinking.

"What's this really about, Sammy?"
"It's Sam, Dean. And I'm just a little more invested in this than you are."
"The fight between the sisters, you mean."
"No, I mean—"

Sam let out a harsh breath. Dean could hear him walking, so Dean did the same, finding himself in the kitchen. After another harsh exhale, Sam spoke quietly.

"I mean that I've been here. This isn't the first time they've had this fight, but this is the first time it's been this bad."
"So what are they fighting about? And don't give me any of that 'it's complicated' bullshit. I'm in this too, and you know it."

Sam sighed again, and Dean grit his teeth together.

"Jess brought up the fact that we're graduating in May. She's going to medical school, I'm hopefully starting law school, and Mel needs to decide what she's going to do, too. Jess is pushing for grad school, but Mel doesn't know if that's what she wants. Then she says that she doesn't even want to be in school now, and that's when Jess sort of lost it."

Dean held one of his hands out.

"That's what this is?"
"Yeah."
"That's stupid."

Sam was quiet for a minute, then let out a laugh.

"I told you, you wouldn't understand."
"Oh, because I never bothered with college?"

Sam was quiet again, speaking low.

"I didn't say that. Don't put words in my mouth, Dean."
"Oh, I wouldn't dare. Not that I'd know that many, what with my lousy GED and all. Couldn't even stick around to get a high school diploma, so why would I know anything about college or degrees, right?"
"Shut up. Damn you, just shut up."

Dean let out a laugh, not noticing how he was pacing the kitchen or how Melinda was hovering in the doorway, a blanket wrapped around her to ward off the chill that was settling in her bones.

"Don't you tell me to shut up."
"Then stop speaking out of your ass."

Dean shut his eyes, stopping and raising his head. Sam sighed.

"We've worked our asses off to get to where we are. Melinda knows that, and she's smarter than she thinks she is. She can do this, she can breeze through grad school, if she'd just give it a chance."
"You can't tell her what to do, Sam."
"I'm not trying to."
"And you can't make the decision for her."
"I'm not trying to. I just—"
"You're not her dad, Sam."
"Will you let me speak for one minute?"

Dean bit his lip. Remember that fight? Remember Dad, how pissed he was, how broken he was the next day? Of course you remember. You had to pick up the pieces. Don't be John. Dean cleared his throat.

"By all means."
"Don't—fuck, Dean. You can't just breeze in here after three years and think you've got a say in this. You haven't been here for even three months yet. You don't know how it's been, you haven't been here."

Dean could hear Sam breathing, and when he'd calmed a bit, Dean spoke.

"Well. I'll try and keep my nose in my own business next time."

He heard a long sigh.

"Dean, come on."
"Nah, what the hell do I know? I'll just stay out of it. Oh, and maybe you could help me by not calling me at three in the fucking morning just to bitch me out. That sound okay to you, Sam?"

It was quiet on the other end, and Dean blew out his breath.

"She always has a place here, and she can stay as long as she wants. Tell Jess she'll be home when she wants to be there."
"Dean, wait."

But he didn't. He hung up the phone, before he said something he knew he'd regret, ignoring when it started to ring a few seconds later. He glanced up, saw Melinda standing in the doorway, silent tears rolling down her face.

"Don't cry."

She laughed, looking away as the tears continued to fall.

"I've … I've ruined everything."
"Mel, don't."

Dean walked over, touching Melinda's shoulders. She shook her head.

"I fight with my sister, causing you to fight with your brother, not to mention your relationship is fragile as it is. You can't afford to fight with your brother right now."
"Mel, the things he said … This little fight has been brewing for a while."

She shook her head again.

"I've messed everything up again, and I—"

Dean shut her up by pressing his mouth to hers. He held her face in his hands, and after a second, he moved back, just far enough to look in her eyes, keeping his hold on her.

"This isn't your fault."
"It is. I break everything I touch, Dean. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

She wrenched herself out of his grasp, her heart breaking in her chest.

"Just let me grab my things and I'll go."

She dropped the blanket she had wrapped around her, instantly regretting it because of the sudden chill that had settled in her bones. She was so cold, and she didn't know if she'd ever be warm again. She was almost to the living room when she heard Dean's quiet question.

"Where?"

She stopped, turning back to face him.

"What?"

He looked at her, those green eyes boring into her own, and he spoke softly.

"Where will you go?"

She gave him a smile, though tears were shining in her eyes.

"I don't know."
"Take the Impala."
"What?"

He walked over, picking his keys up and holding them out to her, surprised his hand wasn't shaking. She stared at the keys, an astonished expression on her face.

"Dean."
"I mean it. I can't just let you walk out of here, in the rain and the cold. Take the Impala. She'll keep you safe and warm. I'd feel better."
"I can't take your Baby."

Dean gave her a sad smile.

"It's just a car, Mel."

It wasn't "just a car." It had never been "just a car." The Impala had been home as far back as Dean could remember. It had been a haven, familiarity, his sanctuary. It had been a bed when he was smaller, when he and Sam had slept in the backseat as John traipsed them across the country. It had been a hospital, more than once. It was the place where he'd stolen his first kiss, got to second base for the first time with that girl with the braces down in Ponchatoula, Louisiana. He'd lost his virginity to Kara Townsend in the backseat the night before John whisked them away from Albuquerque. The Impala was the one thing that had never left him, the one thing that had never turned their back on him, the only thing in the world he felt like he could truly rely on. He'd cried, laughed, loved, lived in that damn car since he was four years old. She could never be "just a car" to him.

But faced with the possibility of losing Melinda, first thing he'd do is give her the one thing he'd always been able to count on. She'd be safe, warm. The Impala could turn to be home for her too, and that was comforting to Dean, even though it felt like his heart was getting ripped out of his chest. She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

"I can't take your car."
"Then stay with me."

Her eyes flew open, looking over to him. God, he felt like he was in one of those dreams where he was naked in front of the entire world, all eyes on him. He tossed his keys back onto the little end table.

"I don't ask for much. At least, I try not to ask for much. But I'm asking you this."

She stayed where she was, fat tears rolling down her pretty face, and he stepped closer to her.

"Stay with me. You don't have to go to school if you don't want to. I—I'll give you a job down in the bar. Hell, you can have my job in the bar, if it'll make you stay."
"I don't want to hurt you."

Dean forced a smile.

"I'll be all right. Winchesters have a special extra-thick skin."

She shook her head.

"I hurt every single person around me, Dean. Sooner or later, I'll hurt you, too."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Won't be the first time. Look, all I know is my life is better with you in it. You're beautiful and smart and kind. You make me laugh, and you like my car, my taste in music. You run me out of my goddamned mind in bed, kissing you is like heaven. I am going completely chick-flick here, Melinda, and you know how I feel about that."

She smiled, letting out a quiet laugh at that. He closed the gap between them, and because he just couldn't stand it any longer, he reached out, twirling the ends of her hair, wavy since she'd let it air dry after their bath.

"You don't have to decide anything right now. Just … Just come to bed with me. I'm not asking for anything and I'm not expecting anything. Just … just stay, Mel. Please."

She closed her eyes as his hand cupped her cheek, and after a moment, she opened them as she let out a sigh.

"I'm going to hurt you."
"Like I said, won't be the first time."
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you."
"Does that mean you'll stay?"

She sighed, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

"I'll stay."

Dean let out a sigh of relief, moving to take her in his arms and hold her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh of her own.

"Would you really have given me the Impala?"

Dean smiled, kissing her forehead.

"Yes, I would have. That way, I would at least know that you're safe. She'd keep you. She's done it for me as far back as I can remember."

Melinda blinked back her tears, turning her face in to Dean's shirt as she yawned.

"Let's go to bed."

She nodded, leaning into him as they walked down the hall to the bedroom. Melinda climbed in the right side, furthest away from the door, and Dean climbed in beside her, moving right up behind her to spoon her. Melinda let out a sigh, snuggling close to him. Thunder shook the apartment, and Dean tightened his grip on her. He sat up, brushing the hair back from her eyes.

"Are you warm enough?"
"As long as you just keep holding me, I'll be fine."

Dean had felt helpless all night. There was no use in lying about it. He'd felt helpless when Melinda couldn't tell him what was wrong. He'd felt helpless when she told him about her fight with Jess. He'd felt helpless when his fight with Sam went where it did, and he'd felt helpless when she talked about leaving. But when she asked him to hold her, to keep her warm and safe, wrapped up in his arms?

That he could do.