"You looking for lunch, Winchester

"You looking for lunch, Winchester?" Sara asked as she entered the kitchen, a plastic grocery bag hanging from each hand.

Dean started, with a decidedly guilty look and Sara felt her hackles rise in response. A guilty Dean was never a good thing. The last time he'd looked this way it was because he'd accidentally taught Jess to say 'son of a bitch'. The little girl had spent a week using this exclamation every time she stubbed her toe or dropped her wubby.

"Tell me my daughter's not quoting you again?" Sara said her eyes scanning the room for the toddler. Jess had the most unfortunate habit of mimicking everything Dean said. Even worse, she seemed to understand how to use the words, especially the curses.

Dean's eyes widened a fraction as he also glanced around for his shadow. "She's not," he denied, a little too quickly for her satisfaction.

"Hm. Well, you feel like something to eat? Just let me unpack and I'll make you and Sam something."

"Sara, we're not here to have you wait on us. In fact, we should be helping you out." Dean suited his actions to his words and stepped forward. As he relieved Sara of the two bags she held, he gave her a bright smile.

Sara didn't trust him for a moment. Though Dean more than helped out around the house when he was in town, his culinary arts were limited to say the least. Pancakes and sandwiches were the extent of his cooking skills and Sam could barely manage either of those. "Huh, okay. I'm gonna get the rest of the groceries out of the car and then I'm gonna search the house for the real Dean Winchester cause obviously you're a shapeshifter."

Giving him no chance to reply, Sara left the kitchen grateful for the dark interior of the garage. Ever since she'd come face to face with him, or well face to chest she'd struggled to control her every reaction. Sarcasm had become her only defense and she used it to deflect every last bit of emotion she could. Well, that and work. Her office was the one sanctuary left to her, and she took to that room every chance she got. Surprisingly, since Sunday she'd found herself feeling better than she had in awhile, the ever increasing weariness that had seemed to be stalking her every move had passed and she found herself once again, a normal person, rather than the vampire she'd impersonated for the last couple of months.

For a while there it seemed as if she couldn't manage to get through the day without a nap, usually taken while Jess was resting. Now, though, she felt revived and more than able to spend her quiet afternoons writing rather than resting.

Sara didn't even want to stop and consider that this new found energy had begun after Dean had stormed back into her life. He wasn't a permanent fixture, she scolded herself, and he never would be again. She had too many responsibilities weighing her down to give into a heartbroken ennui. Some might resent those responsibilities, but for Sara...her kids, her family, and her career had been literally lifesavers. Without them, she would have been more than happy to simply drift away after Dean walked out of her life.

As she grabbed the last of the groceries out of the van, she turned and headed back into the house. She had just reached the kitchen when she saw her daughter standing before Dean, a stubborn look plastered across her face. Curious as to what had gotten her dander up, Sara entered the room.

"Cwlry and peanutter," Jess demanded making a perfect pout with her rosebud lips.

"I don't know what cwlry is, Jess," Dean explained the exasperation in his voice making it clear this wasn't the beginning of this conversation.

Jess, at a loss as to how to make the older man understand, darted toward the bags on the floor and began rifling through them. At last with a triumphant crow, she brought forth a bunch of celery from the white plastic bag. "Cwlry and peanutter," she stated obviously pleased with herself.

Dean shot Sara a grin that made her heart melt and headed for the cabinet. "Oh, that cwlry, sorry, toots, I'm not much for the green stuff."

Dean opened the door and began rooting around for the peanut butter, as he did he said over his shoulder to Sara. "Who the hell puts peanut butter on celery?"

Sara smiled and began putting away her groceries. Without thought she fell back on banter, verbally sparring with Dean could be an Olympic sport, he always gave as good as he got. "How is it that Sam managed to avoid scurvy with you in charge of his meals?" Sara countered.

Jess now sitting in a chair waiting for her snack snorted and said, "Curvy."

Dean returned to the little girl's side with the peanut butter and looked down at the bunch of celery that sat on the table. "Pizza fulfills the four food groups. Okay, what now?"

Sara grinned and grabbed a plate out of the cabinet, handing it to Dean she said, "Pretty simple, pull off a couple of stalks, wash, and smear with peanut butter. Oh, and there are five food groups, Dean." Sara stopped to watch Dean approach the bright green vegetable as if it would bite and couldn't help but add, "Don't let it see you sweat, Dean. You'll never get it to submit to the peanut butter if it doesn't think you're in charge."

It took Dean ten long minutes to get three pieces of celery filled with peanut butter and on Jess' plate. By this time Jess sat one elbow resting on the table and her chin propped in her hand with a look of complete boredom on her face. Dean was about to place the last piece on her place when it slipped from his fingers landing facedown on the kitchen floor.

"Son of a bitch." Two voices rang out true and strong one, high and sweet, and one, deep and gravely.

Sara couldn't stop the tears that flooded her eyes at her daughter's mimic. Afraid he'd see her grief, Sara ducked out of the kitchen.

888

"What are you doing?" Sam asked his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Cooking dinner," Dean replied as he stirred the pot before him once more.

"You can't cook," Sam said as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge.

"Course I can. Toss me a beer would you?"

Sam pulled two beers from the fridge, handing one to his brother, he walked over to the pot that was simmering on the stove. "What is it?" Sam asked not bothering to hide the skepticism in his voice. As far as he knew his brother could make roughly three things and none of them looked like this.

"It's marinara sauce, Sam," Dean said as if it should be obvious. "I told Sara I'd make dinner.

"Sam stared at the pot for a moment before taking a long pull on his beer. He couldn't decide what bothered him more, the fact that his brother was obviously up to something or the idea that he'd suddenly become Julia Child. "You didn't make this," Sam accused, turning toward his brother.

"Course I did, nothing to it."

Sam studied Dean for a moment before trusting his instincts. He moved toward the trashcan in the corner of the room and lifted the lid. Sure enough, there was a jar of Ragu discarded in the trash. Sam snorted and dropped the lid. "Yeah, homemade."

Dean grinned and shrugged. "Hey, I wanted to do something nice and god knows I can't cook."

Sam met his brother's grin and dropped into the seat across from him. "Yeah, I guess dad kinda failed at domesticating us."

"Yeah, well that's cause you can't teach what you don't know."

Sam's laugh rang out loud. "True. So what's up? Why the sudden urge to play 'Alice'?"

Dean got to his feet and headed toward the sink. With his back to his brother he finally said, "I just thought it'd be nice."

Sam knew Dean was lying, hell, the tension in his brother's shoulders made it more than obvious. Problem was, Sam didn't know why Dean was lying and he found himself debating whether or not he should get involved. After their argument this morning, Sam had an uneasy feeling that Dean was up to something.

"Sara's in her office," Sam offered trying pick up some clue as to what was going on.

Dean just nodded, his back still turned toward Sam. "I know, she wanted to get some work done while Jess napped."

Frustrated his brother was shutting him out, Sam blurted, "What're you doing, Dean?"

At last, the older man turned to face him. Sam's worry increased tenfold when he saw Dean's guilty expression.

"What'd you do?"

Dean shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, he answered, "Nothing, I mean it's no big deal."

Sam didn't bother repeating his question, he just stared hard at his brother, willing him to talk.

"Well, Greg called earlier and I kinda, sorta, invited him over for dinner."

Sam's jaw dropped open in shock. Of all the dumb and stupid things he had expected to hear his brother say, this one ranked dead last.

"Don't look at me that way, Sam. You're the one that said I was too hard on the guy. So, I'm making amends." Dean at least had the grace to flush as he spoke.

Sam's voice rose with his every word, "I can't believe you. You're still trying to prove some big conspiracy. Did it ever occur to you that maybe she just likes him and he likes her?"

"You trying to wake the dead, Sam?" Sara asked as she entered the kitchen, anger etched on her face.

Sam felt a stab of guilt pierce him as he considered what she might have overheard. "Sara, I..."

"Sam, would you please excuse me and your brother?" Sara's voice made it clear that she wasn't in the mood to be opposed.

Sam nodded and left the room. He figured he'd probably be better off picking up the kids at the bus stop. At least it would get him outside of shouting distance.

888

Dean turned to face Sara. He knew she was bound to find out sooner or later. Though, his goal of putting it off until she was sitting across the table from Greg was probably hoping for too much. Determined to make her speak first he folded his arms across his chest and waited. It didn't take long.

"What's going on, Dean? I mean, do I even want to know?"

Dean strove to appear nonchalant as he answered, "It's not like it's a big deal. Your friend," Dean emphasized the word friend, "called and I invited him over for dinner. I figured it would make up for me acting like an ass on Sunday."

"You did what?" Sara asked her voice dropping even lower.

Shit, Dean knew he was in trouble now. With Sara, the louder she yelled the quicker she got over her anger, it was only when she grew quiet that you knew you were in real trouble. "I just thought-"

"No, you obviously didn't think. Not one bit. Who I invite into my house is my business. What led you to believe that I would in any way, shape, or form want you involved in my life." With each word Sara stepped ever closer, until at last she stood toe to toe with him. "You walked out on me, Dean. You chose to leave us behind, you did that."

Dean's heart broke at the accusation in her eyes. His determination to avoid this topic fled at the pain he could see so clearly. "I did what I thought was best, I never meant to hurt you," he pleaded his voice rough with emotion.

Sara's eyes filled with tears and her shoulders hitched with silent sobs. Her words were halting at first but they gained in momentum as she continued, "I know that I wasn't enough for you, but when you left you took everything with you...I was left with nothing. You can't believe that I would just go out and replace you."

Dean determinedly ignored the moisture in his own eyes and reached out to grasp Sara's shoulders. He couldn't believe that she would ever think that she hadn't been good enough for him. "You are everything to me. That's why I left, Sara. I had to. After Gordon I couldn't bear the thought of hurting you." Dean's voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned closer, "I could never hurt you."

He just couldn't resist. He could feel the heat of her body through the thin material of her tee shirt and it was driving him wild. He had been so careful to keep a safe distance between them, but now as he stood watching her eyes close in expectation he realized that this kiss had been inevitable.

"Sara," he breathed just before his lips covered hers. He pressed his mouth to hers almost questioningly. Once, twice, three times their lips met. Each time they stayed joined for just an instant longer. Dean's body began to hum with pleasure. He was engulfed by her scent, by the heat of her body as they came together. It was as if he hadn't been warm, truly warm, in months and now with her body pressing against his he felt as if he were on fire.

They were like magnets, unable to resist the pull they came together with not an inch of space left between them. One of Sara's hands slid to rest on his chest, the other drifted to the back of his neck. She left a trail of heat everywhere she touched him.

Dean's own hands slid around to her back and down, he couldn't stop himself from gripping a handful of her tee shirt as he pulled her hips toward his own. Desperate to taste her, Dean's tongue darted out and lightly traced her lower lip.

At the contact Sara gasped, her lips parting in invitation. Dean dipped his tongue into the moist warmth of her mouth. The memory of her taste didn't compare to the reality. Their six-month separation had only served to heighten his passion for her. Desperation drove Dean, he needed this moment, this contact, and he wanted her. Frantic with need, he guided Sara backward until she was pressed against the kitchen table. Pulling back only enough to gasp for breath, Dean moved his hands from the small of her back to her hips. In one swift motion, he lifted her settling her on the tabletop.

This time it was Dean that gasped as he moved between her thighs and pressed himself against her warmth. Abandoning her lips for the moment, he trailed his lips across her jaw and down her neck, stopping only to lightly nip her earlobe. Down her slim throat he kissed, using his lips, tongue and even his teeth.

Sara sat on the table, her head thrown back to give him better access, her legs locked around his slim hips. Her hands, which at first had remained wrapped around his neck, were no longer still. Instead, they trembled as she worked to release the buttons on his shirt.

Impatient for more, Dean's own hands trailed down to the hem of Sara's tee. He abandoned the path his lips were making only long enough to allow her shirt to pass over her head. The feel of her soft skin in contrast to his work-roughened hands, as he trailed his fingers down her exposed back, drew another groan from him.

She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and in this moment he needed to make sure she knew it. "God, you're so beautiful. You're perfect," he murmured, as his mouth caressed the tops of her breasts. At this moment the sight of her simple, white, cotton bra, against her olive colored skin, was so much more exciting than any satin or lace could ever be. Sara's choice of simple and pretty, rather than femme fatal was such an intrinsic trait and Dean loved her all the more for it.

At last, she worked his shirt free, pushing it off his shoulders, she seemed suddenly hesitant when faced with his bare chest. One shaking hand reached out to cover his heart. She then replaced her hand with her lips. It wasn't until her still slightly shaking hands slipped down to his waistband that all hell broke loose.

"Mom?" came the cry from the garage followed by what sounded like a heard of buffalo.

Sara never hesitated. One shove to his chest and her feet were on the ground. Her shirt in hand, she took off down the hallway toward the office.

Dean swiped his own shirt from floor and began setting a record for the fastest buttoning. "Hey, Mike, hey, Jim," he called out hoping to distract the boys from their mom long enough for Sara to get herself together.

Both boys tumbled into the kitchen full of their news for the day. Dean had no problem presenting a calm front to them, Sam he found, was another matter. As soon as his brother followed the boys into the kitchen, Dean could feel the weight of his judgment. Then again, maybe it was simply his own guilt that he felt. "Don't, Sam," Dean warned.

Sam stared hard at him for a moment before relenting with a shrug. Dean turned his attention to the boys and set about trying to ignore the ache in his body as well as the one in his heart.

888

"Here, Sara, let me help you," Greg said as he stood and began to gather the dishes from the table.

Sara almost argued with him, but a glance in Dean's direction changed her mind. Shooting the handsome man a smile, she said, "Thanks, I'd appreciate it."

Despite the confines of the house, Sara had managed to avoid Dean for the rest of the afternoon. She'd done this by simply refusing to leave her office. The kids accustomed to her, sometimes obsessive, work ethic settled in to follow their own pursuits leaving her with a bit of peace. She had refused to consider the fact that they had company coming. That was Dean's problem not hers, she would leave him to set the table and make dinner, after all he was the one that had invited Greg.

Sara only wished she could have avoided thinking of Dean as easily as she avoided seeing him. He must think she was beyond pathetic for the way she reacted to his kiss not two seconds after he got done telling her he didn't want her. Oh, he could soften the blow any way he wanted but deep down Sara knew that's what it amounted to. Why would someone like Dean want a thirty-five year old woman with three kids and a house in the suburbs?

"Sara?"

Sara snapped back to the present and realized she was holding a plate of spaghetti in her hand. Apparently, in her daze, she'd managed to dump most of it on the floor. As she stood and watched, the last stray clump slithered off her plate to land with a plop. Sara closed her eyes and counted to five. Then she counted to ten. At last, somewhat calm, she opened her eyes to find not only Dean's bright green gaze on her, but also Greg's steely blue one. Sara clenched her teeth ignored them both, turning to Michael she asked, "Honey, go get Jack."

At mention of the dog, Greg set the plates he held down and moved around the dining room table, effectively putting the big piece of furniture between himself and basement door. Sara couldn't help the burst of irritation that flooded her, she knew that Jack hadn't been on his best behavior with Greg but he could at least trust her enough to control her dog.

Jack, released from the basement where he'd been banished, darted into the room his attention completely focused on Greg. As Sara watched the animal charge into the room, his hair bristling, his low growl menacing, she couldn't help but feel guilty for her earlier thoughts. "Jack, down," she called. Really, this was just starting to get ridiculous, no matter how many times she told Jack to stand down, he chose to forget his commands each time Greg re-entered the house. Like all the other men in her life, Jack had an annoying habit of doing as he pleased.

Jack dropped to the ground in a low crouch that brought to mind a lion ready to pounce and continued his throaty growl. "Jack," Sara called distracting the dog from his self-appointed mission and bringing his attention to the pile of spaghetti on the floor. Jack's focus shifted in an instant as he gained his feet and made straight for the leftover treat.

Sara sighed, avoided Dean's direct gaze, and headed out of the room. Straight to the sink she went, where she began washing up. Dinner had been almost fun. Sam had been determined to show her his support so he'd been on his best behavior, telling stories of life on the road and urging Greg to share his own tales of life as a accountant. Several times Sara had found herself enjoying the banter. Only Dean's direct questions and suspicious attitude stopped the evening from being a complete success.

Sam stepped up beside her and placed a couple of plates next to the sink. Sara allowed herself one moment to lean against his solid strength. His arm slipped easily around her waist as he whispered in her ear, "Having fun?"

Sara just chuckled weakly and said, "Sure, I mean why wouldn't I be?"

Sam's laugh was low and heartfelt. "Yeah, well for what's its worth he seems like a nice guy."

Sara shook her head, all laughter gone from her voice, "He's not for me, Sam. There's no one else for me." Sara didn't need to see Sam's face to know that the younger man understood, but she did appreciate the slight squeeze he gave her before he walked away.

Sara really couldn't understand just why Dean thought she was in the market for a husband. Yes, she'd been friendly with Greg but it had never and would never amount to anything more. Not as long as Dean or the memory of Dean continued to make her feel like she did with just a glance of his bright green gaze. Sara was nothing if not a realist and she wasn't about to step on someone else's heart simply because she was lonely.

Greg moved into the kitchen, by way of the living room, and began to help her with the dishes. They worked well together making small talk as they cleaned up the remainder of dinner.

888

"Here, this'll help," Sam said as he handed his brother a beer. Dean had been sitting on the deck for over an hour now, Jack's heavy head resting on his boot. Every now and again, he would lean over and scratch the animal's ears earning a happy growl from the big dog.

"Thanks, bro."

Sam nodded and sank into a chair with his own beer. Though he wasn't sure what had happened this afternoon he knew it didn't bode well for Sara and Dean's future. His brother had begun distancing himself more and more as dinner had gone on until even the few pointed questions he asked Greg seemed passionless.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?"

Dean shook his head slightly and for a minute, Sam thought he was going to refuse. It was only after his brother took a sip of his beer that he finally began to speak. "She's gonna marry him, he'll raise her children as his own. Hell, they might even have a kid or two together. That's her life," Dean said as he nodded toward where they could both see the family gathered around the dining room table playing some game.

Sam suddenly lost his patience with his brother. It was Dean's own determined pig-headedness that was keeping them from tossing Greg out on his ass and settling themselves around that damn table, and Sam was sick of pretending otherwise. "Don't, don't you do this, Dean. The only reason she would ever settle for that life is because you refuse to let her be a part of yours. We spent a lot of time gathered around that table and if I remember correctly, at least when it was you sitting there she never looked as if she wanted to cry. You're she wants and despite how hard he tries, Greg will never get any farther than he is now. She's incapable of loving anyone else."

For just an instant Sam thought he saw a glimmer of fight come into his brother's eyes. However, just like that it was gone, snuffed out by the older man's self-doubt and anxiety for her well-being. "You were right, Sam. He's just fine. A little boring maybe but he's on the up and up."

Sam knew a subject change when he heard one and really he couldn't see the point of pushing the issue. His brother would do what he thought was best and that was that. The least Sam could do was throw him a bone. "I Chirsto'd him," Sam admitted a tired grin on his face.

Dean nodded and laughed, "I put holy water in his beer."

Both Winchesters burst out laughing. Jack hearing the sound jumped up and ruffed a couple of times as if asking to get in on the fun. Watching the big animal play puppy sent both men off again.

At last, Sam gasped, "Bobby'd be so proud."

Dean sipped his beer and nodded. "Yeah, he would at that. Poor Greg'll have to suffer through watered down beer and Latin all over again once Bobby's back in town."

Sam slumped down in his chair, his beer resting on his stomach and looked up at the star filled night. "Naw, he won't be around long enough to meet Bobby. Sara doesn't want him and she won't string him along now that she knows he's interested in more than friendship."

Sam wasn't surprised when Dean remained silent. In fact, he was nearly dozing in his seat when his brother finally broke the silence.

"I've been thinking, we ought to borrow Sara's key and help ourselves to Brian's garage," Dean said, his voice loud in the still of the night.

Sam would have liked to say he was surprised but really after the blow-up this afternoon there were only two ways Dean could have gone. The first was to beg Sara to take him back and then spend a lifetime making up for his temporary insanity. The other was that his determination to stay out of her life would have grown. Sam had his answer, not that he'd been expecting anything else.

"God, Dean, I'm just so damn sorry," Sam uttered, the guilt of having landed his brother in this mess in the first place overwhelming him.

Dean reached over and clapped a hand on his brother's arm. Giving Sam a grim smile, Dean said, "Aw, come on, Sammy, it's not your fault. Nobody could have predicted us getting stuck here in town."

At Dean's words, the beer Sam had been drinking went down the wrong pipe and he began to cough. Dean pounded him on the back, obviously worried. Sam at last waved him off and wiped a hand across his eyes. "Fine, really, just..." Sam cleared his throat, "went down the wrong pipe."

Dean eased back in his chair, his eyes still pinned to his brother. "We can go tonight. We'll find the right tires, and I'll just mount them and balance them there in the shop. We can leave the cash for Brian, he won't care."

Sam nodded, really it shouldn't matter. Hell, Sara's last name was still on the storefront and she and Brian were close. Plus, Dean had done work for the man in the past and he'd always seemed real fond of both Winchesters. "If you think."

Sam couldn't help but turn toward the house once more. The warm glow of the lights only served to make the family that sat at the dining room table seem even sweeter. He would miss them, and this time there would be no more hope. This time the Winchesters would stay gone.