"You mean she was still asleep?" Dean asked as he stepped out of the bathroom clad in a pair of jeans, a towel hung around his shoulders.
Sam leaned against the headboard his long legs stretched out in front of him, the computer resting on his lap. "Yeah," Sam answered, his attention on the screen in front of him.
Dean rubbed the towel through his hair, causing the sandy strands to stand on end as he challenged his brother, "There's no way. Sara doesn't nap, and there's no way anyone gets into Sara's room without waking her up."
Sam shrugged as he continued to focus on the information before him.
"Sam, Sam," Dean shouted, at last resorting to swatting his brother with the towel.
"Ouch, Damn, Dean, that hurt," Sam said as he rubbed his injured foot. Glaring at his brother, he demanded, "Why'd you hit me?"
"Sara sleeping the day away and then not waking up, that doesn't strike you as weird?" Dean demanded as he dropped his towel on the bed and rifled through his bag looking for a clean shirt.
"Sara took the wash ten minutes ago. You'll have to track her down for a shirt," Sam muttered as he returned his attention to the computer.
Dean stared hard at his brother trying to determine if Sam was purposely being stupid or if he was simply focused on something else. There were more times than Dean liked to admit it that it was difficult to tell the difference. Finally, he decided it didn't matter, he required his brother's attention and he wanted it now. So with a flick of his wrist he ensured he got it. "Sam."
"Crap, Dean," Sam said this time jumping from the bed and nearly losing his laptop in the process when the towel whipped out toward his head.
Dean, enunciating each word, said, "SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH SARA."
Sam at last glanced up, his attention focused fully on his brother. Dean nearly groaned at the look of pity that filled Sam's gaze. He didn't want his brother feeling sorry for him, he wanted his brother to pull his head out of his ass and figure out what was wrong.
"Don't, Sam, don't shake your head at me. I'm right, I know I am. This isn't about her being heartbroken or any other crap. Something's wrong and I aim to find out what."
Sam sighed, as only Sam could, and said, "Listen, I know you're still worried about the dream and I'm not making light of it." Sam gestured toward his laptop that was now resting on the bed. "I'm keeping an eye on the area and at the first sign that something's wrong I'll see it I promise..."
Dean could hear a 'but' in Sam's tone and really, he had no patience for it. "Don't 'but' me, Sam. Something's already off, I just need you to read the signs and figure out what it is so I can kill it. That's what we do. So," Dean waved at the computer and continued, "Get figuring."
"Figure out what, Dean. That Sara's tired. Hell, I'm tired, and you, well, you look as if you haven't slept in months so what exactly is it that I'm supposed to research?
"Sam?" Sara asked as she walked in the room.
Dean turned on a dime only to find himself standing face to face with Sara. In fact, he was so close he could smell her. His entire body clenched at the hint of vanilla mixed with a warmer scent that was uniquely hers. He'd spent the entire morning trying to avoid being this close to her because he had known just how weak he was.
Sara seemed every bit as thrown off by their sudden closeness. Automatically her hand had come up to hover over his heart. She stopped herself from actually making contact with her hand only a half-inch from his skin. Dean's every muscle clenched in response to the gesture. Sara had always been fond of laying her hand over his heart, she claimed it was his best feature. However, if Sam were present she'd follow up this beautiful sentiment with the words, 'well second best anyway' followed by a lewd wink and a suggestive grin guaranteed to make Sam blush bright red.
Dean couldn't help but grin faintly at the gesture. Sara blushed and pulled her hand away as if it burned. Hell, maybe it had, thought Dean, his own temperature seemed to have gone up about a hundred degrees. Unable to resist the flush of pink that flowed into Sara's cheeks, he reached out one hand and drug his knuckle along her jaw line.
Sara jumped back as if that time she really had been burned. "Um, sorry, I, uh, didn't mean." Sara clamped her jaw tight and closed her eyes for a minute.
Dean couldn't help but feel a burst of masculine pride as he watched Sara take a deep breath before opening her eyes. "Did you need something?" he asked his eyes devouring the sight of her.
Up until now he'd been so careful to push away the memories of just good it had been. Though he knew that Sara felt a bit insecure about her age and her body he'd spent a lot of happy moments bolstering her self-image. She was all woman and would never be mistaken for a girl, but Dean had always found perfection in every last line and curve.
Breaking Dean's reverie, Sara said, "I brought you a clean shirt." Sara held up an old, black AC/DC shirt of his. "I didn't realize it until just now that I left you with nothing clean."
Dean felt a bolt of sadness flow through him at the sight of the shirt, she had confiscated it ages ago to wear as a night shirt. As Dean accepted the shirt with a pang of sadness, he found himself wondering if she still wore it. "Thanks, and you didn't need to do the laundry. Sam and I could have done it later."
Sara tore her gaze away from Dean's chest and frowned fiercely at him. "You know I never mind. Though, I would have preferred to find your clothes with a little less bloodstains." Sara's eyes dropped to Dean's torso once more, her gaze bouncing off the scar on his shoulder, before she met his gaze. This time there was censure in her eyes.
If it had been anyone else Dean would have shrugged off her obvious concern with a joke and a grin, but with Sara he just couldn't seem to find his smile. Instead, he simply said, "It's been a rough couple of months."
Sara took his words at face value with a nod. "Well, rest up while you're here. Dinner in ten," she called as she turned and left.
Sara seemed to take the sun with her when she left. Suppressing a shudder, Dean shrugged into his shirt and turned to face his brother. Sam's smirk was a little too all-knowing for Dean's taste. Before Sam could see what he was about Dean snagged the towel from the floor, twisted it in two quick motions and whipped it toward his brother.
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Sara leaned back against the wall grateful for the support. Eyes closed she struggled to breathe, she needed to calm herself before any of the kids saw her. She just hadn't expected to come face to face with him like that. Earlier she'd heard the sound of the shower and a peek into the bedroom had shown Sam engrossed on the computer. Confident that Dean was otherwise occupied she'd darted in and made Sam relinquish their clothes.
Her plan for survival this week had been avoidance, well she'd blown that one all to hell when she'd breezed into their bedroom and ran smack dab into Dean. Sara's knees gave way at last and she sunk to the floor, her hands covering her eyes. How stupid could someone be, she'd gone out of her way to appear indifferent to him only to have her façade shatter in an instant.
He must think she was the most pathetic thing ever. She couldn't believe she'd acted so ridiculous when faced with his bare chest. Sara groaned in embarrassment, she just couldn't help it. There he stood smelling of soap, and aftershave and scent that went even deeper. So in tune his body she'd been able to feel the heat pouring off of him. And his chest, god, slim of hip and wide of shoulder the scars that marred his skin did nothing but accentuate just how lean and strong he was. She'd never considered herself a 'chicks dig scars' kinda girl but there was simply something about Dean that made her reconsider.
Maybe it was the fact that each scar was not just some minor mishap but a badge of honor he'd earned while doing a thankless job. Maybe it was the fact that she knew each scar as well as she knew her own and she could empathize with the pain he'd gone through. Who knows, all Sara knew was that she'd missed him more than she had imagined it was possible to miss someone over the last six months. Worst of all she was pretty sure that Dean now knew it.
"Mommy?"
Sara jumped a mile at the sound of Jessica calling her name. A quick brush across her face with her hand removed any trace of the tears she might have shed. "Yeah, baby?" Sara asked as she held out her hand to the little girl.
Jess stood, her bright pink tutu at odds with the large plastic sword she carried in her hand, it was obvious to Sara that this ballerina had dragons to slay. At her mother's invitation, Jess scrambled up onto Sara's lap with a sigh.
"The boys won't let me kill the dragon. They say I'm too little," Jess complained her expression so serious despite the Power Ranger mask she wore pushed back on her head.
Sara strove to keep her expression just as serious. "Hm, is that so? Well, why don't you find your own dragon to slay? Then the boys will realize you're the real deal."
"The weal deal?" Jess questioned, her voice raising an octave.
"Yup, the real deal. You, my girl, just need to show those boys you are every bit the dragon slayer that they are."
Jess seemed to think about Sara's words for a moment before at last she answered, "I think I'm gonna ask Sam to help me, he's a good dragon killer."
Sara touched her forehead to her daughters and smiled. Somehow, despite how bad things got her children never failed to bring a smile to her face. "You're right about that, baby girl."
Jess scrambled back out of Sara's arms and was headed toward the spare room in a flash. Sara pushed herself to her feet and hurried away from the bedroom. The last thing she needed was the men to find out she'd never made it out of the hall.
888
Sam topped off his coffee cup and settled back at the table to finish off the remainder of his breakfast. They'd now been at Sara's for three days and he had to admit, other than a bit of awkwardness between Sara and Dean, it was if the last six months had never happened. He for one couldn't be happier.
This morning, while Sara was off food shopping, he was planning to look over her latest book. He loved nothing more than to sit down with her manuscript and play editor. He was just finishing his cereal, when his brother entered the room.
While Dean poured himself some coffee, Sam took a moment to evaluate how he seemed to be faring this week. Already his brother looked better rested and he no longer snapped at every little thing. The only downside was that Dean seemed still convinced that something was wrong with Sara. Sam, hoping to appease his brother, had been keeping a close eye on the area and Sara just in case. So far, it had been for naught, Sara's energy level was up and she seemed less pale and more rested than she had when they'd arrived.
"Saw you on the laptop last night, you find anything?" Dean asked as he dropped into the seat across from Sam.
Sam couldn't help but sigh, if only he could convince his brother that everything was fine. Dean seemed determined to prove that the world was only seconds from collapsing. Sam had learned first hand just how carefully he needed to answer. "I was checking out the area, but everything looks good."
Dean nodded and reached out to snag a clean cereal bowl that had been left on the table. Choosing the Fruity Pebbles from the boxes of cereal that lined the table, he quickly poured himself a substantial bowl.
Chock one up to his appetite, Sam thought, as he watched his brother spoon a mound of cereal into his mouth.
"M, fnkng 's Reg," Dean said.
"Huh?" Sam questioned.
Dean swallowed and sipped his coffee before answering. "I'm thinking it's Greg."
"Well that cleared things up. What's Greg?" Sam asked unsure of what his brother was getting at, but sure he didn't really want to know.
"Greg's the one putting the mojo on Sara."
Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. "Dean, come on. Greg hasn't even been here for the last three days. And Sara's fine, there's nothing wrong with her. You've gotta face the facts, dude, she's not-"
"Don't, Sam. Don't you dare tell me she's fine. She's not fine. Something is wrong, just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not true."
Dean stood up and began pacing the kitchen, his long strides taking him from one end of the room to the other. "She's tired and she's lost weight," Dean said his expression making it clear just how worried he was. "Her color's off, she's as white as a ghost." Dean heard his own expression and winced a bit. "And she's-"
This time it was Sam who cut Dean off. "You just described yourself, man. Do you get that Dean? You walked out on her and left her heartbroken, Dean. And now you feel guilty so your blaming some innocent guy for changes in Sara that you..." Sam's voice trailed off as realized what he'd said.
"I know what I did, and I'm the one that has to live with it," Dean's voice was so low Sam had to strain to hear him. "But I know that something is wrong.
Sam shook his head and got to his feet. "I'm sorry, man, but I'm not going to drag this guy through the mud simply because you're jealous. If you don't want her then you need to let her go."
Sam turned and left the kitchen determined not to encourage Dean in anyway. He knew what guilt could do to a person better than anyone. However, that also meant he realized there was little he could do to alter Dean's perception. The best thing would be for the Winchester brother's to move on, Sam knew that would help the situation more than anything else could. At least then Dean would be free to heal and Sara could get on with her own life.
Problem was, Brian still wasn't due back for another four days and Dean adamantly refused to get the tires from anyone else. Sam shook his head and continued determinately toward Sara's office. He was going to enjoy the remaining four days, regardless of what crazy ideas Dean threw at him.
888
Dean watched his brother storm out of the kitchen. He should have known better than to try and talk sense into Sammy. His brother was so determined that it was Dean feeling guilty, that he was overlooking the big picture. Every instinct in Dean's body screamed that Sara was in trouble. If there's one thing his father had drilled into him, it was trust yourself. So Dean planned to do just that. Problem was he had no idea how to go about it.
Dean resumed his seat to finish his breakfast and to work out a plan. It was then the phone that was mounted on the wall behind him began to ring. Out of habit he answered it, and then could have kicked himself for doing so. He had no idea what kind of a response he would get from Sara's family but if her uncle's behavior was anything to go by he was the last voice her mother would want to hear.
Too late to do much else, Dean answered, "Hello?"
There was a slight pause before Dean heard Greg's smooth voice, "Oh, hey, I was looking for Sara. I didn't realize you guys were still in town."
Dean didn't bother to hide his shark-like grin. "Nope, we're still here."
Greg paused once more before he spoke, "Well, if you could let Sara know I called."
Dean had a moment's vision of just what he'd like to do to the man on the other end of the line. He was about to hang up when he had an idea. He was certain that Greg wasn't what he made himself out to be, he felt it down to his toes and as far as Dean was concerned Jack's obvious dislike only proved it. Dean didn't bother to hide the challenge in his voice as he spoke, "Why don't you come on over tonight. I'm making my specialty."
This time the pause was so long Dean almost thought he'd been hung up on. At last Greg said, "Alright I will. I'll be there after work."
Dean's smile never reached his eyes as he said, "See you then." He hung up the phone and settled back. Well, he got his wish, what better opportunity for a little research than to have the subject face to face. He knew something was wrong with Greg and tonight he intended to prove it.
