Author's note: All I can hope for is that I manage to write the characters the way they'd be in the show. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, I know. That's probably because I see some things not the way they are. Just don't be too harsh on me :))

Many thanks to everyone for support!

Dig in now :))

Chapter 7

Once Bobby's minivan stopped on the driveway early in the morning, Sam was the first to get out of it. He slammed the door behind him and headed for the porch yawning after the sleepless night and dreaming about something like coffee, or long nap. Or both. In any order.

"Do you think the information is credible?" The question was addressed to Bobby who followed him close by.

"Rumors and talks, Sam. How credible do you think it can be?"

"In a place like that?" Sam grinned. "More credible than breaking news at any rate."

"Exactly!"

"Oh, Dean is so not going to like it," on a sigh.

"Yeah, and that's why you're going to enlighten him," Bobby patted him on the back. "Good luck!"

"Why me?" Sam made an attempt to protest. "It's suicidal."

"You're his little bro. You have more chances to survive the storm," Bobby chuckled.

"Thanks!" Sam drawled. They stopped in front of the door and looked at each other. "So quiet," Sam commented in low voice. Bobby nodded. "Do you think they killed each other?"

Bobby pushed the door open and looked cautiously into the hallway, listening intensely.

"No blood," he informed Sam in a whisper.

"Good start," Sam followed him inside with a sneer.

"At least they stopped shouting," Bobby sighed with relief.

"It's been hours, Bobby."

"So?"

Sam nodded conceding his point. Wouldn't put it past his brother either. Knew Dean well enough to know that he was too stubborn to stop fighting. Suspected that Bela was not less stubborn, too, so… "You think it's a good idea to wake Dean up so early with bad news?" He hesitated at the foot of the stairs.

"Do you think time will make bad news better?" Bobby snorted.

"It's just my strong instinct of self-preservation speaking," Sam threw over the shoulder starting up the stairs.

It wasn't the bloody self-preservation that bothered him though. It was Dean only being back for a little more than a day and was about to be thrown into the battle right away again. Besides…

The thought struck Sam in the middle of the staircase, made blood run cold in his veins. Literary! What was he thinking when he left his brother with Bela? Oh, Lord, that was probably the reason for all this peace and silence! Bela must have sent Dean back to hell and was half a country away from here by now. Ten hours… Might have already crossed Canadian border. Half a country? Ha! Trust Bela to be half a world away.

Sam rushed up the stairs cursing himself and swearing to dear God to rip Bela's head off her neck with his bare hands at the first opportunity. No mercy this time.

Guest room was given to her, so there was only Bobby's bedroom and a study left, and something told Sam that Dean would most likely occupy the later. Heart hammering in his chest, he crossed the distance between the stairs and the door in two big jumps.

"Sam, you okay?" Bobby's voice came from downstairs referring probably to the hurried tramping. Sam ignored the question entirely. Didn't even bother to process it in his mind.

He thrust the door open without so much as hesitation. Didn't even slow his pace, and stumbled inside expecting to see anything – anything! emptiness for example – but… It was pure luck that he managed to grab the door handle instinctively, otherwise he'd most likely not only trip over the picturesque view but also fall to the floor, exactly the way his jaw did.

"D-Dean?" He choked, eyes growing unnaturally wide. Sam even blinked several times in order to make sure that he was seeing what he was seeing. Half-expected the image to disappear.

And then full awkwardness of the situation came to him.

Sam cast his eyes aside; cleared his throat. Looked at the ceiling, then at the bookshelf, then out of the window and at the ceiling again trying to decide for himself what was stronger – embarrassment or relief. Both probably, depending on the viewpoint.

Dean grumbled something in displeasure and raised his head blinking in the light. Rubbed at his eyes sleepily and finally focused his glance on the source of the disturbance.

"Sammy?" As if he wasn't sure he wasn't dreaming. "What happened?"

Good question, Sam thought, somewhat amused. Deep, deep inside.

"Can I have you for a sec, Dean?" Still looking at anything but his brother, and yes, Bela, and probably blushing. Just a little bit. "We need to talk."

On this he backed into the corridor and closed the door behind him considering the possibility of being delusional. No, seriously, this?! Of all the most impossible things in the world… Well, he knew that Bela was a special case. Everyone knew. Everyone who wasn't blind at least. Except for Dean of course, but that wasn't surprising. And yet… Thank God, they were dressed!

"Oh, crap," Bela moaned in frustration and buried her face deeper into the pillow breathing in the scent of Dean that still lingered there.

"Sleep," Dean whispered into her ear, stirring her hair with his breath. "It's okay. I'll talk to him."

"What?" She rolled over – well, turned over, more like it since the cot would never allow anyone to roll without falling off it – and faced him. Saw him for the first time since last afternoon finally given the chance, and light, to actually see. He looked funny, definitely not fully awake yet, hair rumpled from sleep, and uncharacteristically shy to look directly at her allowing only quick shots every now and then. Bela smiled softly trying not to think about what she – and her own hair – looked like, and feeling sad despite herself about the fact that this dream came to an end. "No, it's not that. Your brother has just ruined the best sleep I had in months," she confessed on a sigh with obvious disappointment, which came out in a whisper too, assuming that her throat was scratchy from sleep as she wasn't fully awake as well. "I will never forgive him."

"It will break his heart," Dean grinned.

"I'll be gentle," Bela assured him, a step away from sending Sam to hell – not literary! – and cuddling in for a little while longer.

When the door opened at last, Sam whirled around… and came face to face with Bela.

"Sam," she beamed, the wattage of her wide – and damn her, condescending! – smile close to impossible.

"Morning, Bela," Sam muttered as she went past him and down the corridor into the direction of a bathroom, chin tipped high and… was she murmuring some tune under her breath?! All Queen of the world 24/7. Sam shook his head. She definitely wasn't embarrassed. If she could be at all.

"So, what is it, Sammy?" Dean appeared in the corridor right after her buttoning up his long-sleeved flannel pulled over the plain black t-shirt. Followed Sam's gaze that followed Bela, and hemmed.

"Yeah, well… I just…" Sam trailed off. Blinked, still processing the whole situation in his mind. "She told you?"

"Told me what?" Dean frowned. Too early to start thinking properly.

Sam paused. "Well… um, something that led to…"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Nothing happened, okay? We just…"

"No, wait!" Sam interrupted him hastily. "Save it to yourself, Dean. I'm sure I don't want to know the details. There are still some things I prefer to stay unaware of."

Dean scoffed at his so obvious discomfort. Debated adding something saucy nonetheless but then only yawned wide. "Whatever," he mumbled. Registered the sound of pouring water coming from behind the bathroom door and shook his head in order to erase the image from his mind. Bela in the shower… Okay, enough! Gave Sam a once-over from head to toe and narrowed his eyes. "Where have you been? And… what time is it, for God's sake?"

"7.30," Sam replied automatically.

"7.30. Sure. Great! Did you have a particular reason to wake me up at 7.30?"

"I need to talk to you," Sam repeated. He cast a quick look at the bathroom door and turned to Dean again. "About something serious."

Dean paused. "I hate it when you say such things, Sammy. They never promise…" he fell silent. Sniffed at the air. "Is that coffee?"

Bad news always went better with coffee after all. Or whiskey. Or both, speaking of that. But at 7.30 coffee would do just fine.

***

Well, it didn't help now. Not really. Dean had a serious suspicion that whiskey wouldn't help either. Apparently, some news could go only with alcohol and strong drugs.

"Is that true?" He asked quietly some half an hour later. Stared into his mug with long forgotten and obviously disgusting by now coffee. It was so not helping!

"Does it sound like a joke to you?" Sam snorted but then shook his head at the sight of his clearly pissed off and somewhat crushed brother who didn't so much as moved during his not so inspiring monologue. "I wish it was a joke, man, you know."

"That bad, huh?" Dean finally looked up at him. Turned to Bobby then.

"That's what we heard," Bobby shrugged. "You know how much you can trust to what you hear in the places like this."

"More than anything," Dean's lop-sided smile was bitter and lacked any amusement.

"More than anything," Sam echoed on a sigh.

Silence reigned in the room for a while interrupted only by the tickling of the old clock on the marble mantelpiece. It sounded like a reminder of their time running out.

"So, hunting season's open?" Dean scoffed at last. "Terrific!"

"Sort of," Sam agreed wincing.

"Well, if they want us so bad, all we have to do is get them first, right?" Dean's voice was full of cold determination. "Let's just do it."

"First we have to make them reveal themselves," Bobby reminded quite unwillingly.

Dean rubbed his forehead. "Yeah. And to make them reveal themselves…" Peered expectedly at Sam.

Sam hesitated for a moment. Held Dean's gaze wishing like hell that he didn't have to say what he had to say. Hated to even think about repeating what he told before.

"One of you should be the bait."

And, want it or not, it definitely sounded like a death sentence, or something else similarly unpleasant. What a terrible joke of fate! Dean could practically hear it laughing him in the face. To be back only to risk everything once again because one little hell bitch wanted him so badly that she even started playing open. Damn it! Wondered despite himself if he was on her Birthday gifts list. No, he and Bela from now on. Cute! Now they were like some friggin' Bonnie and Clyde. But then the whole irony was that if they didn't make first move and take this risk, they probably wouldn't last long enough to enjoy their newly gained lives. Vicious cycle.

"Right. Sure. Of course one of us should be the bait. Not that I expected anything else, but… come on!" Dean shook his head. "That's great, really. So fucking great that I almost want to go and cut my throat, and save everyone a trouble."

"Dean…" Bobby started warningly.

"No, it's fine," he smirked, more to himself than to anyone else. Got up to his feet and put the mug onto the table. Even thinking about drinking that stuff made him sick. "Always wanted the head of Lilith on a stake, and dreams should come true eventually."

The three of them fell silent at the sound of the footsteps in the hallway.

Bela paused near the doorway to the living room, hair – still wet from the shower – framing her face. She looked at the three of them in turns, arched her brows at what she saw – whatever it was – and then continued to the kitchen without saying a word. Dean could have sworn that she rolled her eyes though, but refused to think about the reasons for it.

"Me," he breathed out when he was sure she was out of reach to hear.

"What?" Sam blinked at him.

"Don't tell her anything," Dean looked at him, then at Bobby. "I'll be the bait."

They listened to the sounds of life coming from the kitchen, which were Bela doing… something.

"Gotta get that," Bobby muttered when the phone rang somewhere in the depths of the house and hurried to pick it up.

"Dean…" Sam started.

Dean rubbed his face. Looked into nowhere waiting for his thoughts to settle before speaking again. "I'm so tired of choosing between bad and worse." Fury. Anger. There was a wish to hit something – someone – written all over Dean's face. "So fucking tired of this need to make choices when they are only choices by definition, but in the end there is no choice at all." Shifted his gaze to the ceiling as if hoping to find an answer written somewhere up there. "I'll get her, Sam. Swear to God, this time I'll get her, wherever the price is."

Sam nodded, all not that I expected anything else but… Cleared his throat, looked at the piles of books, at the talking board that still remained lying on the table. Shifted his gaze back to Dean and registered for the first time that something was different about him. Something that his brother was probably unaware of, and wondered despite himself what caused this change. Still Dean, but not the same Dean, not the way he was before he… died. The thought was uncomfortable.

"You do realize how dangerous it is, right?" Sam asked somewhat suspiciously.

"Well, before you mentioned it I thought it would be like… a party, or something," Dean confessed thoughtfully, mock disappointment all over his face. "But… dangerous? Now I've gotta think twice."

"I'm serious, Dean! Don't you think…"

"I don't," he cut him off. "What am I supposed to do, Sam? What do you expect from me? It's our job to kick bad asses, remember?"

"I just wanted to say that we might need help. Any help."

"No. I want her out of this." Dean dropped his eyes as if the toes of his shoes were the most interesting thing to look at, and huffed loudly in frustration when Sam's brows shot up with interest. "I can't make her to go through the whole thing, okay? Happy?"

Sam's lips stretched into a wide grin. "Who are you, man? And what did you do to my brother?"

"Shut up."

"Why so dull, boys?" Bela reappeared in the doorway with a mug of steaming coffee in her hand. Took a small sip and nodded to herself in appreciation. "Anyone died?" She asked casually… and froze when the meaning of the question kicked in. Raised her head slowly. "Did anyone…"

"Not yet," Sam mumbled.

"They're just trying to digest the fact that the three of you are kinda… wanted," Bobby squeezed past her into the room.

Dean sent him a warning look, and received the one that was all I know better than that! from him.

"Wanted?" Bela repeated in confusion, slowly, as if tasting the word in her mouth. "Why?" She followed Bobby with her eyes as he made his way around the couch.

"Well, they want Sam because they always wanted Sam," he explained. "All this anti-Christ theory and everything. He's a legend."

"Lucky me," Sam scoffed, not at all flattered.

"They want Dean because he is back from hell," Bobby continued, "which is fundamentally wrong, you see, and they can't do anything about it."

Bela looked at Dean and registered the smirk that clearly read: yes, it's me. Ain't I awesome? Sorry, can't help myself! She resisted an urge to smirk herself. Turned to Bobby whose somewhat matter-of-fact tone didn't let her get if what he was saying was good or bad, or just neutral facts and she might as well forget them in five minutes. Tilted her head expectedly.

"And they want you," he finished, "because of what you are."

"Because of what I am? It sounds insulting."

"Because you can bring people – and who knows what else – back from hell. Sounds better? Not a skill they'd want anyone to have, see."

That was getting ridiculous!

"I can't control it, Bobby," Bela reminded him on a snort, and contemplated killing the next person who asked her about how.

"You will probably find it difficult to prove it, I'm afraid."

"But…" she frowned. "But I thought you said I have to really want it to happen." Ignored Sam's smirk which he attempted to hide behind the cough.

"A wish to live might work too if they chain you to the wall and use some… torturing."

Bela paled – something that she clearly couldn't control. Her face pulled in horror, green eyes grew wide. She clenched her hands around the mug so tight that her knuckles turned white. It felt like she was hanging on the rope above the abyss, and then this rope suddenly gave in and tore in two pieces, and now she was falling into nowhere.

"No one's going to torture you," Dean assured her immediately. "No one's going to torture her," he repeated firmly to Sam and Bobby.

Something in his voice made Bela's heart jump up to her very throat and fasten its beat. Made her wonder if he was overly protective just because or it had something to do with her personally. Or if it was just her imagination and nothing more than that. And how on earth could her fear and this stupid jumping heart thing work together anyway? Hell if she wanted to know the answer, really! Debated asking it directly for a moment or two but only waved her hand then. Mentally.

Well, Dean didn't look like he meant something special by it. When he turned to her, boyish smile was back on his face. "Now, how really cool is that to be outlaws?" wish such excitement that Bela's lips quirked into a grin against her will.

"Even more outlaws than you've always been?" She snorted. "Charming! Any other good news or I should start feeling privileged right away?" Batted her eyelashes at him fighting to portray genuine interest.

"Always so bright! I wonder how you manage it, Bela." He made a funny face at her.

"Special talent maybe."

"Good news is that it is nothing actually, right?" Turned back expecting for support.

"But…" Bobby started.

"Right?" Dean made big eyes at him now that Bela couldn't see his face.

Sam grumbled something that Bela didn't understand. Bobby simply shrugged in complete disinterest. He seemed to be too occupied with going through what looked like a centuries' old journal.

"Nothing?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, peered at Dean.

"Absolutely. Well, you see it's always been like this – they wanted us dead, we wanted them dead. Nothing new here," pretty casually. His expression was blank. She remembered him talking to her at night, voice barely audible in the darkness, and felt that the color was coming back to her cheeks. Literary. Like in blushing. "So, how do you like the idea of going home?"

The offer was so unexpected that Bela's brows shot up in amazement. "What? Can't wait to get rid of me? So soon? I'm disappointed." Hoped that actual disappointment wasn't that obvious.

Dean shrugged, all I didn't want to say it but now that you did it first… Their eyes met but Bela couldn't read his expression. "We've got job to do," he explained lightly. "Ghosts and everything. Interested?"

Yes!

"Not really," she admitted with polite and utterly fake smile. Tried to ignore the emptiness that filled her within a blink of a moment. Not that she expected anything else, Bela thought ruefully. Should have guessed from the start that he'd rush ahead into his life right away.

One month. Things to learn; things to catch up with; bad asses to kick. Besides, saving Dean made them even in a way, she decided. It was stupid to think that they'd want her to stick around, assuming that she wasn't homeless or something. Not that she wanted to stick around anyway. Of course she'd refuse if they offered it. Bela Talbot wasn't planning on becoming a hunter and fighting what can't be changed, or destroyed, or killed. Whatever! She might be back from hell, or elsewhere, it didn't matter, but she was back in her right mind. And hunting? Gosh, it wasn't even funny.

But… so soon?

"Fine," she nodded when no one made at attempt to object. "Gonna give me a lift?"

"As soon as you're ready, sweetheart!" On the widest smile ever.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam hissed at him when Bela was out of the room.

And as soon as she was gone, Dean's face lost all this fake enthusiasm and anticipation of a hunting, or whatever he meant when he mention job. He looked gravely at his bother, and it was desperation that Sam saw. Desperation and sourness. He reminded Sam a blown off balloon, empty and hopeless.

"I told you, Sammy, I want her out of this story," in a tired voice. "For her own safely." Right things, damn them!

And your own calmness, apparently, Sam added mentally but knew better than voicing something like that.

"Besides," Dean added, "if Lilith wants the three of us, we better stay separated and give her hard time."

***

They were driving in silence most of time, Dean and Sam sitting in the front seat and Bela with some of the Winchesters' stuff – in the back. She took a seat right behind Sam intentionally, in order to avoid any accidental eye contacts with Dean in the rearview mirror. Could see the top of his head there though, but that was it.

The conversation didn't settle which made Bela wonder somewhat distractedly – now that she didn't have much to think about anyway, or didn't want – if it had something to do with her and the fact that the brothers didn't want to discuss their new case around her. Or if it was something that she didn't know about – and probably didn't want to know – because she could feel the tension without seeing any reason for it. Felt strange either way. No laughs and witty comments, which she half-expected to fill the whole journey. So not right.

The music was on but the volume was quiet enough not to make it annoying, just a background noise that was helping to track down time. And okay, time was not crawling exactly, but whenever Bela thought about hitting the road together with the brothers, she imagined that it would fly. Every now and then Sam and Dean exchanged something that Bela called a Secret Winchesters Code – she had no problems with understanding separate words but hell if she could get the meaning of their small talks. Well, they weren't really informative anyway, not to her at least, so she didn't care much.

Watching them was funny, almost entertaining.

Some time later Bela registered that Sam was giving Dean quick looks as if he wanted to say something but couldn't do it for one reason or another, and probably expected Dean to get it somehow without words. It caught her, aroused her curiosity, and she peered at Sam for a while, burning the back of his head with her eyes, curious about whether he'd feel it one way or another. But Dean was either blind, or simply wasn't giving a damn – both variants seemed equally possible to her. Sam gave up at last and turned away, and she relaxed in her seat as well.

They dropped Sam off somewhere half-way to Queens, in a motel which Dean called a good starting point. Bela didn't share his opinion whatever he meant. What she saw from the window – a long one-storey building that probably was green or light blue some decades ago, but now its color was barely definable; a small parking lot and a neon sign, off now that it was daytime, which was missing one letter – didn't look like anything good unless your standards were way below zero. But she did not comment it one way or another, only arched her brows. Caught Dean's look in the rearview mirror this time. Held it long enough and then switched to Sam walking across the parking lot to the registration office, presumably.

Reality was stomping in their lives with terrifying speed. This – shabby motels in the middle of nowhere – was the reality of the Winchesters. And it made Bela wonder what she should be waiting ahead.

Once Sam was gone, Bela announced that riding in the backseat was making her feel sick and moved to the front. Added that being sick also referred to the Winchesters' stuff flying all over the backseat and thumping into her every now and then on the curves of the road.

Dean watched her settling with curiosity, obviously amused by her huffs and snorts, and threw the Impala into gear as soon as she buckled the seatbelt.

Bela rolled the window down and let the evening breeze stir her hair. She breathed in the smell of dry leaves and late flowers. Monotonous scenery outside the window, which consisted mainly of the trees and road signs, caught her attention for a while. Something to concentrate on in order not to think about other things.

She ambushed Dean some time later and switched the radio to the station she liked. Beamed at him.

"Hey! It's driver's privilege to pick the music!" He protested.

"Oh, please, don't tell me people really buy this!" Bela opened her mouth in mock disbelief. Paused. "What? Sam does?" In actual disbelief now. "Oh, my! You two never cease to amaze me."

Dean huffed in irritation and glared daggers at her, but he didn't switch the radio back to the station that was on before, and Bela leaned back into the softened leather of the seat, totally enjoying herself and Dean's way too artificial displeasure. Saw him throwing quick looks at her every once in a while out of the corner of her eye but pretended she didn't notice.

She rolled the window up some time later, when the air became cooler, and leaned her forehead against it staring aimlessly into the darkness doing her best to block out what she was almost sure by now were actual memories from hell, although she wasn't keen on admitting it even to herself. Too much blood, too much pain. Desperation. Always before her mind's eye, every moment. Several hours more, and she would be left alone with them.

She wanted ask Dean about the new case. Or something else. Anything.

"Thank you."

The words were so sudden and out of place that at the first moment Bela thought that she heard them in her head only, which, okay, wouldn't surprise her. But of course it wasn't just that. Dean.

She whipped her head around. Frowned, realizing somewhat belatedly that he might have said something to her and she missed it entirely. "For what?"

"For brining me back."

Oh...

"Dean, I told you…"

"Yes, I remember. You don't know anything." She heard a bitter smile in his voice. He wasn't looking at her, watched dark asphalt ahead of the car instead. "But you… you know, wanted me back, or whatever it was. It sort of means more than if you knew and… well, just did it." A shrug followed as if the importance of his words felt awkward. "Guess I gotta thank you for giving me that second chance."

She watched him for a while. "You're welcome then," on a small smile, which she attempted to hide by biting her bottom lip and turning away.

And then – Bela didn't know if his intention was to ruin the moment or to make it less private, or if he was serious – Dean narrowed his eyes and looked at her with poorly hidden suspicion. "You're not going to charge me, are you?"

They drove up to her apartment building some time after dawn. Bela's heart squeezed at the so familiar sight. Home. That was it. The only place in her life that she could call so. The one she strived to come back to when she was hundreds of miles away. Her safe haven. Unless… she cast a sidelong glance in Dean's direction. Okay, her security system was not perfect.

He pulled the car up not far from the entrance and quitted the engine.

"Do you…" want to come up and have a cup of coffee, Bela wanted to ask.

He looked tired after the sleepless night – not that she slept much herself, if dozing off a couple of times for some thirty minutes in total could be considered sleeping at all, but then she didn't have to drive all the way back to Sam. And Bela wondered with concern how he was going to make it without passing out. But the intimacy of the offer paralyzed her speech like… Oh, like they didn't spend a night together tangled on some half a century old squeaky cot enjoying it more than anything, for God's sake! So ridiculous! They were adults after all, and if she offered him coffee it would be just coffee. There was nothing bad about being nice and polite. After all, she was the one with proper manners!

Instead, Bela cleared her throat. Smiled. "Thank you."

Awkward.

Dean cleared his, too. Made her wonder despite herself what he had to bite back. "You sure you'll be okay?"

Bela's brows shot up to the very hair line. Oh, she couldn't let this one slip! "You were the one who told me to get out, and now you ask me such questions, Dean?"

He huffed loudly through his nose, frustration as clear as it only could be. "Just watch your back, okay?"

Even so? "Why, if I didn't know better, I'd think you care," Bela drawled mockingly.

"Thank God, you know better!" He rolled his eyes on a snort. "You do, don't you?"

Bela reached for the door handle on a laugh, pushed it open and was half way out of the Impala when Dean caught her by the wrist. His touch was hot, almost burning, and there was a crease between his brows. "I'm serious, Bela."

"Don't worry. I'm a big girl," as lightly as possible as if they weren't talking about mortal danger. "Besides, I'll find what to say to the little bitch shall she show up." She got the Colt for free and I still died, she added mentally but decided not to bring the topic up out loud.

"Do you…" he began, but stuttered and looked away, "…um, you know, want me to come up with you? Check if everything's fine." And cleared his throat. Again.

Yes, of course!

"No, it's okay. I'll be fine."

Bela smiled at him – at least he found enough courage to voice what she chocked on – and then to her own surprise leaned forward and pressed her lips to his before slipping of the car. And she thought that offering coffee was wrong??

"Hey, Bela," Dean leaned across the seat and looked out of the open passenger window. Waited for her to bend down and grinned. "Do me a favor, try not to rise some baddy, accidentally or on purpose."

"What? Mind a little challenge?" And then, "That's out of question, Dean. It's not like there is anyone left in hell who I'd like to be back." Paused. "You take care, too."

She made her way to the entrance never looking back. Smiled to herself now that Dean couldn't see it anyway. Did she really say that? That he was someone special? Oh, well. Dean should have seen his face when the meaning kicked in! The moment was worth it. She heard the squeal of tires behind her back and dared to throw a quick glance over her shoulder only when she put her hand on the door knob. Saw black silhouette of the Impala behind the trees. And… here was the loneliness.

Dean watched her back contemplating the things that never came to his mind before, like coming out and calling her back, feeding her some crap about safety and sticking together, or something else extremely ridiculous. He never was bad at coming up with some nonsense when he needed, was he? Hated watching her go, Dean realized. Hated himself for letting her go. She looked disappointed, didn't she? Or not? Strange feeling of unexpected loss caught him be surprise, rendered him immobile for a moment or two. Forced him to turn the key in the ignition on a rush and wind out of the parking lot at top speed.

Fucking right things! He hated them.

To be continued…

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