Come What May

Chapter Three

Grimmauld Places kitchen was a mess, chairs, and benches shoved away from the table, pots of boiling water set on the table, mountains of gauze, and the like set at one end. Ripley, in her silk camouflage cami and matching boxers was running the show. "Jesus," she approached her partner Sam with brown eyes narrowed. "Forgive me for not taking pity, and using magic, but I'm pretty sure they have us on radar or something."

He gave her a weak smile, hand pressed to his bleeding side. "We didn't know what to do Rip," he said. "They didn't use their wands; they used knives, mother fuckin' knives!" The American Auror winced as the other American pressed a piece of gauze soaked in boiling water to his side. "We weren't prepared," he hissed in a breath as she put on small reading glasses. Ripley held the end of a needle in her mouth as she cut string. "Dean's fine, but Jay's hurt."

"We're taking care of him," Remus said entering the kitchen for more supplies. "You alright Rip?" He asked as she threaded the needle. Oliver peeked in through the open door.

She offered a small smile. "As good as I can be. I was supposed to be out there with them." Ripley ignored Remus' look of disapproval on her statement, and pulled up a seat, putting on rubber gloves. "Ya ready Dean?"

"Well, I suppose if you're gonna give me some TL OW!" He jerked away. Ripley was quick on the release of the needle which was in his skin now.

"Hold still you fuckin' moron!" She grabbed his arm, hauling him back down. "Wood! Hold him!" Her alto voice was sharp, commanding. Oliver grinned coming, he pressed his hands down on the mans shoulders.

"Hey I know you," Dean grinned up at him. "You're Ripley's fuckbuddy."

Ripley snorted as she began stitching. "Not quite, but you're close."

"Aren't you a Quidditch player?" The Auror asked, staring up into the calm brown eyes. "Hockey's better, but still…"

Ripley smiled at Oliver's confused eyes. "He plays hockey with me, one of the guys from the team."

"You told him you were a witch?"

"No, moron," Dean rolled his eyes as Ripley snipped the thread. "We met at the meeting."

"What meeting?"

"You're outta the loop for a reason," Dean said as the Scotsman let him sit up. Ripley began cleaning up, once out of earshot Dean looked at Oliver. "She didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Wood replied uneasily.

"Well, if you don't know I can't tell ya, she'd kill me."

"If you don't tell me, I'll kill you," Whispered Oliver with an unchanging scowl. Dean winced at the words, and sighed, thinking his options over. He hardly knew Oliver, he wasn't sure what kind of torturous things the man could do, he had known Ripley for nearly her whole life, and was well aware of the pain she could inflict. "Dean."

"Sorry, can't," The American got off the table, with a one shoulder shrug. "She'd have my ass along with yours."

"Who?" Ripley asked returning to the kitchen. "Sam's fine by the way, Remus is looking after him."

"No one Rip," Oliver said eyes still on Dean. "Ready for bed?"

"Yeah, after I clean up."

"I'll keep you company," Dean said pulling on his tee shirt. "If that's ok with Wood."

"It's fine," Oliver said with a shrug. "I'll be upstairs," he kissed the top of Ripley's head, and left.

Dean watched Ripley move around the kitchen, putting things back in their places, and setting the table back up. "He asked about the meeting."

She shifted her eyes to him briefly. "What'd you tell him?"

"That I couldn't say a word on it," Dean winced as she turned to him, expecting to be yelled at. Instead she gave him a wide smile. "You're not mad that I gave your man the slip?"

"I'm glad that I can trust you to keep that mouth of yours shut."

He smiled sheepishly at her. "Sorry Reaper," he kissed her cheek, and gave her a squeeze around the shoulders. "Go to your man; make him happy, all night long."

"Sick," she elbowed his unhurt side, and headed upstairs.

Oliver paced the room, running a hand over his head, back to his pocket, and to his head. She was keeping secrets, which wasn't unlike her, but he didn't like the idea of it. At all. He understood completely that it was her job, and it was supposed to be kept secret, but would Dean have mentioned it that much? He sighed, stripped off his tee-shirt, and tossed it aside, undoing his belt he left it on his jeans, once more turning to pace back the other way.

"Y'know ya look kinda sexy when ya do that," a familiar female voice said from the doorway. Ripley leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. She entered the room, closed, and locked the door behind her, brows furrowing as he continued pacing. "What crawled up your ass?"

"What meeting was he talking about?" Wood asked, taking the belt off.

"Oliver," she said with a sigh, sitting on her bed. "Look, there are some aspects of the job I can't discuss with—"

"I know, I bloody well get that!" He snapped. She looked at him a hurt expression crossing her face. It took everything he had not to say he was sorry, but he wouldn't, not this time.

"Oliver, y'know I love you, but I come with baggage, and part of that baggage is not being able to tell you things. I can tell you when the time is right, but until that time it would mean putting your life as well as the others in this house in danger, and I'm sorry as much as I love you, I cannot risk their lives." She ran a hand back through her brown hair, tugging through the tangles.

He glanced at her, finally stopped his pacing, and stood in front of her, coffee eyes on dirt brown. Oliver let out a breath. "Alright." He unbuttoned his pants, and took them off, tossing them aside, pulled his socks off, and climbed into bed.

Ripley remained sitting on the edge of the bed, her lips in a tight line. "Y'know if you're gonna be a jerk about this—"

"I'm not being a jerk!" Oliver replied angrily.

"You're right," she got up tugging the spare blanket off the end of the bed. "You're being an asshole." With that she grabbed her pillow, and left the room. Wood stared at the closed door, before he cursed, and turned off the light.

Ripley settled down on the couch in the study, wrapped in her blanket, tousled brown head nestled on the pillow. Around her Dean slept in an armchair, Sam on the floor beside Jay unconsciously spooning the man.

"Lovers spat?" asked a sleep laden British voice from the doorway. She sat up some to see Remus. She nodded once, tears prickling the backs of her eyes. He smiled sympathetically and walked into the room. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "He'll get over it." He whispered. Ripley smiled at him, and watched the man leave. Who needed family when you had these people?