Disclaimer: I rented out Supernatural from the video store. I didn't see my name in the credits.

Chapter Nine

Sam sat in the car, hunched over the steering wheel as the car idled smoothly. Dean had been at least fifteen minutes now, leaving Sam to imagine things weren't going well. Glancing at his watch, he couldn't help but feel a little anxious. They really didn't have any time to waste, especially if they wanted to get of town before peak hour. Biting his lip, Sam revved the motor just the tiniest bit, hoping that the sound would subtly carry up to the room. Sure enough, a few minutes later Dean appeared at the lobby entrance, an unreadable look on his face.

"You ok?" Sam asked, as Dean opened the door and folded his figure into the car.

Dean didn't say anything, just gave his brother an exasperated look and stared fixedly out the window.

"Sorry," Sam said sheepishly, feeling foolish. Stupid question.

For a few miles they drove in silence as the still sleepy town slid by. Houses, fences and trees became a blur until suddenly they were on the outskirts of town and all there was was dilapidated apartment buildings and tired shopping malls. Sam felt something clench in his chest as the road slid away beneath them – the same feeling he always got when they were leaving town. The road ahead, the crisp prospect of a new adventure, a different challenge to be pondered. But this time it was different; though his heart pounded madly at the thought of finally being reunited with their Dad, Sam felt like he had left something behind. Something important. Risking a glance at Dean, it was fairly evident he felt the same way – except the lines of worry on his face were deeper and the shutters behind his eyes were shut. As if reading the nature of his thoughts, his brother spoke.

"Pull in here," Dean said suddenly as a faded motel came into view.

Sam squinted at him quizzically. "Why?"

Dean glared at his brother, not keen to reveal the sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach. "Just do it."

Still Sam looked at him askance. "Dean, we don't have time - "

"I know." He said tersely, avoiding his brother's eyes and hating him for making this so impossibly difficult. "I won't be long."

"But Dad won't - "

"Dammit, I will deal with Dad! Just pull into the goddamn motel!" Dean snapped, his voice sharp with anger and resentment.

Sam was taken aback by his biting tone – even considering the circumstances – and despite himself, couldn't help but feeling a little hurt.

Dean sighed and shut his eyes in an attempt to remain patient, any feelings of remorse for his roughness overridden by an overwhelming sense of fear and frustration. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Please."

Sam looked at his brother hard, foot hesitating on the accelerator before he begrudgingly put on the indicator and pulled into the bumpy drive. They stopped sharply in front of reception, Sam yanking on the handbrake and switching off the engine, hoping for some sort of explanation. But, without so much as a thankyou or giving any indication of how long he was going to be, Dean got out of the car and grabbed a small bag from the trunk.

He could feel Sam's eyes burning into his back as he pushed open the reception door, but he refused to acknowledge him. The depths of hell itself could not make him admit to Sam why they were stopping. Dean was a pillar. He was holding this family together. And pillars can't be weak. They are strong and unmoving, unchanged by time or love or circumstance.

All he wanted was a shower. He could smell her on his skin, feel her against his chest, still taste her on his tongue. He had been with so many women, but she was the only one who did this. Who soaked herself into him, until he felt like she was flowing through his veins. She was a stain, an inky violet poison, sinking into his soul.

The sun had well and truly risen now, but the chilly wind still persisted; swirling around Charlie like a whirlpool as she sat mesmerised on the cold steps. As soon as she pushed that button, that was it. There was no going back. And she really did want to push it. She really did want to move on. But then, she reasoned with herself, after eight years of waiting, why couldn't she?

The main street stretched away to her left, a bustling strip of shops and cafés, aluminium glinting in the sun as many set out their morning tables. Through an open door, a snatch of a song floated in the air.

And it hurts me to look into the mirror at myself:

And it hurts even more to have to be with somebody else...

Charlie felt sick, grief and despair and anger rising in her throat as she stood and turned her back on the street, on the people passing by. 'It's not good enough anymore,' she reminded herself.

They say that time will make all of this go away;

It just simply wouldn't do.

But it is time that has taken my tomorrows and turned them into yesterdays

She wasn't going to take this. She wasn't going to stand here and let herself be browbeaten by the universe.

So she reached out. She found apartment 12. She pushed the button. And everything changed.

Luke had really only been dozing, but the clattering of the bell still came as somewhat of a surprise. Rolling over, he blinked blearily about before scrabbling around on his bedside table and pushing his glasses onto his face. The bell clanged again and Luke rolled his eyes a little as he shrugged off the covers and crossed the room. Impatience just wouldn't wait.

Flicking a button, he heard a familiar crackle as the intercom came to life. "Hello?"

"Luke, it's me."

"Charlie?" Luke couldn't keep of the surprise out of his voice.

"Sorry, I know it's early…"

"No, it's fine. I'll buzz you up."

A few seconds later he pulled open the door to find Charlie on the threshold, the same sad look in her eyes that she had when he had returned home so many years ago. It was like someone has extinguished her light and all that was left was a shadow, and it unsettled him.

She took a moment to register his appearance: his messy hair sticking up all over the place, glasses askew, standing shirtless in his boxer shorts, looking warm and comforting and safe and with that face of wonderful gentle concern. Looking like home. Looking like he cared. She took it in, so much that it was almost painful…and then she burst into tears.

"Oh Charlie," Luke enfolded her into his arms, pulling her into the room and wondering what on earth was going on.

She couldn't help it. Any self-restraint gone, she sobbed into his shoulder, fingers curling around his chest and clutching him closer. He was so safe and warm; but even his condolences and comforting words couldn't stem her frantic tears.

"Come on," Luke moved over to the bed, snuggling under the covers and propping himself up with his pillow, letting her burrow into him once again.

"Shshsh," he said comfortingly, stroking her hair and trying to soothe her. He didn't really know what to say, just knew that there was no way he was going to let her go. She was trembling, tears pouring down her face at such a rate that he could feel the wetness against his chest. And even as they seemed to subside, some recollection would spark and it would start all over again. Luke swallowed, feeling absolutely wretched and trying anxiously to think what could have possibly caused this. But the harder he thought the less he came up with, so finally he gave in; hugging her closer to him.

He didn't really know how long they lay together on the bed, but he did know that the sun moved higher and higher up the wall until eventually she stopped crying. Instead they just lay there, breathing somewhat in unison as Charlie felt her tears start to dry and cake on her face. Luke didn't move once, didn't say anything, just lay there with her as she cried, even though he must have been horribly cramped and burning with concerned curiosity. And she knew, then. She just knew that he would never hurt her like that. And he would never make her cry.