Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 3x3: "Bad Day at Black Rock" belong to writer Ben Edlund. The lyrics to "Bluebird" belong to Christina Perri.

Tawny belongs to me.

This little Bluebird came looking for you
Said that I hadn't seen you in quite some time
This little Bluebird, she came looking again
I said we weren't even friends she could have you

Don't you think it was hard

I didn't even say that you died

But it wouldn't have been such a lie

Cause then I started to cry

To say that Dean misses Tawny would be an inaccurate statement. He misses the original Scooby-Doo. He misses the little red truck that dad got him for his third birthday that wound up getting left at some no-name motel in BFE when he was about ten. He misses the days when he could curl up in the back seat of the Impala and actually fit.

But Tawny…

He pines for Tawny. He longs for Tawny. He believed that he and Tawny would ride off into the sunset, the Impala standing in for a white horse. He thought that at the end, after the yellow-eyed demon was dead, that things would suddenly become easy. He'd been waiting for that his entire life; that singular moment when the weight of the world would finally be lifted from his shoulders.

The last 23 years, Dean's felt like he's been under water. The pressure of being dad's perfect little soldier, of taking care of Sam, of knowing that he would never have a home because of that yellow-eyed bastard… it smothered him. Tawny had personified the hope of one day leaving all of that behind: all of the rent-by-the-month houses, the motel rooms, even the nights that they couldn't afford either and had to sleep in the damn car like vagrants would all be worth it in the end.

At least, that's what he told himself. Even though Sam was the one who was always striving for normalcy as a kid, Dean yearned for it. He'd never admit it to anyone, even Tawny, but that was his dream. His dream was to have a nice house with a two-car garage and a white picket fence. He wanted the 2.5 kids and the dog and the full time job. Hell, he even wanted the bills. And it was all because he knew that if he did have it, if he did get the Leave-It-To-Beaver-life, that Tawny would be his June.

He'd had a dream the night before Sammy died. He was driving an SUV and he parked in the driveway of a nice but modest house. He walked in and a little boy immediately ran up and grabbed his leg, holding on for dear life. A Golden Retriever bounced around his legs, barking happily at him. He scooped up the little boy, smiling when he saw his own green eyes looking back at him. The curly brown hair that topped his head could only belong to one person, the only one he wanted. He walked into the kitchen, where Tawny was feeding a baby girl, one that cooed happily and grinned at him when he walked into the room. When Tawny looked over at him he knew that this was it. This was The Life, the one he'd always wanted.

And right now, standing in Lisa Braden's driveway, watching her hug her son, Dean feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest. When he saw Ben for the first time, a little boy who walks and talks and flirts like Dean, his biggest fear wasn't potentially being a father. It's true that he doesn't want to have kids with the life he's living, but that wasn't what set his stomach in knots and made it hard to breathe. It was knowing that, should Ben be Dean's, that Dean would have to tell Tawny. He would have to tell Tawny that nine years ago, when Tawny was only in the ninth grade, Dean had spent a weekend doing to Lisa what he really wanted to do to her. He knew, even then, that the reason he was attracted to Lisa was because she had chocolate brown eyes like Tawny's and silky brown hair that had a golden-red glint in the sun like Tawny's and a smattering of freckles across her nose just like Tawny. Even now, as he watches Lisa in the setting sun, he can imagine Tawny doing the same thing with one of their own kids.

"What the hell just happened?" Lisa asks, and Dean looks at her, then at Ben.

"I'll explain everything if you want me to," he says, then shakes his head, knowing it a bad idea, "but, trust me, you probably don't."

When Dean looks down at Ben again, he sees the kid grinning up at him. "The important thing is that Ben's safe," he adds, ruffling Ben's hair. Lisa looks back up at him, sniffling.

"Thank you."

And when she launches herself into his arms, the first thing that runs through his mind is that she's too tall to tuck her head under his chin like Tawny can, and he misses that. He misses how well he and Tawny fit together, like their two perfect pieces cut from the same cloth. He pulls away after a moment, turning to look at Sam, hoping that he can be that obnoxious little brother when he needs to be, just so Dean doesn't have to break another woman's heart. But, naturally, all Sam does is wave.

"I'm gonna give you guys some time," Sam says, and Dean turns back to Ben and Lisa as he hears Sam back the Impala out of the driveway. They make their way into the house, and Dean stands in the foyer, leaning against the edge of the staircase as he watches Lisa make Ben a sandwich in silence. Once the kid's sitting at the dining room table, his headphones playing Metallica loud enough to block out the horror story that Dean's about to tell Lisa, she finally walks back over to him.

He tells her everything he knows; everything about the kids and the Real Estate lady, and she's silent for a moment. "Changelings?" she finally says, looking back up at Dean. He nods.

"You know how I never mentioned my job? This is my job," he says, and for some reason he feels happy that she looks hesitant.

"I so didn't wanna know that," she whispers, tears brimming her eyes.

Dean doesn't know how to respond to that. No matter how much of an ass he's been, even recently, Tawny's always looked at him with pride when he's doing his job. It's something she's always supported. So instead of saying anything he just nods.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Lisa asks, and Dean nods again.

"Yeah. I think he'll be fine," Dean says, and as Ben takes a huge bite out of his sandwich, Dean can't help himself. He turns to Lisa. "Okay, seriously… I mean, you're a hundred percent sure that he is not mine, right?"

Luckily Lisa laughs, nodding. "You're off the hook. I did a blood test when he was a baby." They both look back at Ben, who's munching on the crust. "There was this guy – a bar back in a biker joint."

Dean shoots her a look.

"What?" she asks innocently. "I had a type. Leather jacket, couple'a scars, no mailing address – I was there. Guess I was a little wild back then… before I became a mom."

Dean feels a tug in his chest when she looks back at Ben, and he suddenly misses Tawny more than ever. He tries his best to pull himself together when she looks back at him. "So, yeah. You can relax."

Dean looks back at Ben, at the truck he's got in his hand, and suddenly sees Tawny. He has no idea why, but he has a flash back to the night before everything went to hell in a hand-basket. They'd stopped at some no-name hotel and had gotten their own room. Then they made love… truly made love, the kind that they never had the chance to do. He took his time, the roll of his hips slow and deep, and he'd brought Tawny over the edge again and again and again before finally giving in himself. She'd fallen asleep afterwards and he'd watched her for hours, the sheets pooled at her waist, her lips parted slightly, her hair falling softly on the pillow. He wanted that again.

"I… I swear you look disappointed," Lisa says softly, and Dean turns to her. He can feel tears prickling his eyes and he has to look away. "Yeah, I don't know," he mutters. "It's weird, y'know – your life. I mean, this house and kid. It's not my life… never will be. Some stuff happened to me recently and, uh…" he says, and when he looks at her he sees Tawny, wishes he could be apologizing to Tawny.

"Anyway, a guy in my situation – you start to think, y'know. I'm gonna be gone one day and what am I leavin' behind besides a car?"

"I dunno," Lisa says. "Ben may not be your kid, but he wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. That's a lot if you ask me."

Dean looks at Ben one more time, then back at Lisa before turning and heading towards the door. He stops short, though, and turns back to her. "Y'know, just for the record, you've got a great kid. Any guy would be proud to be his dad."

Dean isn't expecting it when Lisa rushes at him, her lips pressing against his in a mostly chaste kiss. She tastes soft, like peaches and summer, and his longing for Tawny is almost enough to knock him on his ass. He misses the way she tastes, intense, like cinnamon. He looks down at her when she pulls away and notices her eyes aren't as dark as Tawny's. And her freckles aren't as concentrated to the bridge of her nose. And she doesn't look him in the eyes when she asks him to stay.

And he realizes that it's because she isn't Tawny. She's never going to be Tawny.

"I can't," Dean whispers, and he feels his throat tighten and he prays to a God he doesn't believe in that he'll be able to do this without crying. "You see, there's this girl," he continues, and it makes it even harder when Lisa looks back up. "She's, uh, she's the girl, y'know? And I screwed it up and I've gotta get her back because… because she's my world. I can't lie to you and to me and to Ben. I don't belong in this life."

And he turns and walks out of Lisa Braden's life again without so much as a goodbye.

"Hey, kid. Wake up."

Tawny cracks open an eye, wincing at the bright light in the room. She realizes that she must have fallen asleep on the couch again and looks around. Bobby covered her with an old tattered blanket at some point, so she knows that she must have been out cold for a while.

"I need you to go to Buffalo," Bobby says, and Tawny pushes herself up, yawning widely. She looks down at her lap and sees a Hellhound staring up at her. She'd been trying to find something, anything, to help Dean out and so far had come up with nothing.

"Why?" she asks, yawning again as she closes the book and tosses it onto the armrest.

"John rented a storage locker up there a few years back and someone broke into it. I need you to head up there and make sure there isn't anything missin'," Bobby says, dropping back down into his chair. Tawny stands and stretches, looking at him quizzically.

"How would I know if there was anything missing, old man? I didn't even know he had this storage locker," she asks, blatantly ignoring the glare Bobby shoots her way.

"He made up an inventory list. And I'm not old."

Tawny turns just as she gets to the bottom of the stairs, looking at him seriously.

"Did they have electricity when you were a kid? Did you live next door to dinosaurs?!"

Tawny rubs her lower back as she hops down from her truck. Driving eighteen hours straight, by herself, wasn't exactly an easy feat. She's mildly surprised when she sees the Impala parked out front. She didn't really expect the boys to beat her here, although as she walks into the small office she realizes that she has no idea where their last job had been. Sam had called her a few days ago asking about Changelings, but he didn't mention where they were. She's sure it's because she didn't want to know.

"Well, hey there, pretty lady. What can I do ya for?"

Tawny smiles at the older man behind the desk, pulling out the new ID Bobby had given her.

"Hi," she replies, walking up and leaning against the counter. "I just need to get into my unit. Number 1454."

Tawny watches as the man punches the keyboard of an ancient desktop computer. His brow furrows and Tawny hopes she doesn't have to break in. She hadn't worn the right boots. But then he looks up at her and smiles.

"You with those fellas that came in a few minutes ago?" he asks, picking up her ID. Tawny smiles faintly.

"Yeah."

"Well, you don't look nothin' like 'em… One of 'em yer husband?"

Tawny almost laughs at the hope in his eyes when she shakes her head. "The shorter one's my ex."

"Well, d'ya need me to show you the way?" he asks, and Tawny shakes her head.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you," she replies. She walks into the back, the dust she kicks up making her nose tickle uncomfortably. She rubs at it as she punches the button for the elevator, pulling at the door before walking into it. She hits the button for the fourth floor and sneezes. Once it clanks to a stop Tawny climbs out as quickly as possible. She doesn't really trust it and she isn't very fond of heights.

"Dude, how could you forget the pick?"

"Hey, man, you're the one who's supposed to grab it, remember?"

"Dean, since when do we divvy up who grabs what? You told me you were gonna get it."

Tawny rounds the corner to see Sam and Dean arguing, as usual, and rolls her eyes as she digs into her pocket.

"How about a key, morons? Would that help?"

Sam smiles when he sees her. "Tawny! What are you doing here?" he laughs, holding his arms open for her. She hugs him.

"Apparently all the hard work, as usual," she jests. When she looks at Dean he looks away and holds out his hand. "Well, hello to you, too," she mutters, dropping the key into his palm. He quickly pops the lock, sliding the door open as Tawny pulls her mini-Maglite out of her back pocket. She shines it into the room, the beam crossing Sam's as they slowly focus on the five-foot Devil's Trap about six inches in.

"No demons allowed," Sam says quietly, but Tawny's focused on the blood.

"Why is there always blood? Why can't there ever be, like, a giant chocolate bar? Just once, I'd like a giant chocolate bar," she whines softly, and Dean does a terrible job of covering his laugh with a cough. The three of them take a step in and Dean crouches, running his fingers along a trip-wire.

"Check this out," Dean says, and Sam follows it with the beam of his flashlight. It finally ends at a shotgun propped inside the mouth of a boar's skull. Tawny scoffed. "Whoever broke in here got tagged. Guys, I love your dad with all my heart, but the man scares me. He's dead, and he scares me."

"Yeah, dear old dad," Dean agrees, still crouching. He shines his flashlight on the ground, following the prints. "I got two sets of boot treads here. Looks like it was a two-man job. And our friend with the buck shot in 'im –" he stands "it looks like he kept walkin'."

"So, what's the deal?" Sam asks as they walk further in, carefully avoiding the tripwire. "Dad would do work here or something?"

"Living the high life, as usual," Dean scoffs. "Speakin' of, what're you doin' here, Tawny?" She looks at him as he takes a closer look at the shotgun rig.

"Dad got a call about the break-in. He asked me to come out here and make sure that there wasn't anything missing," Tawny answers. She spots a binder on the edge of an old desk and grabs it, flipping it open. Sure enough, it's the list Bobby told her about. Only rats got to it before they did and it's in shreds.

"Looks like our inventory list was tasty," she says, holding it up. Sam and Dean look at it, raising their eyebrows. "Inventory list?" Dean asks, and Tawny nods, tossing it back onto the desk. The resulting dust cloud makes her sneeze again. Dean picks up a small trophy and wipes at the front of it.

"1995," he says, and Sam whips around. "No way!" he exclaims, grabbing it out of Dean's hand. "That's my division championship soccer trophy… I can't believe he kept this."

"It was the closest you ever came to bein' a boy."

Dean walks up next to Tawny, who's going through a pile of papers on the desk, and his face lights up when he sees an old sawed-off shotgun laying on the desk.

"Oh, wow!"

He picks it up, holding it out to show Tawny like it's some kind of prize. "It's my first sawed-off. Made it myself. Sixth grade." He laughs as he cocks it, and the addition of even more dust makes Tawny sneeze, yet again. She glares at Dean, turning her flashlight back on and following Sam to the back of the room. She sees Sam push open what was once probably a very secure metal door, and she notices the chain that kept it closed was cut. She ignores Dean as he walks in behind her until he breathes "Holy crap"

When Tawny turns, she realizes that it isn't exactly the term she'd use. Lined up against one wall is a full arsenal of weapons. Blades of every size, enough firearms to start a small militia, a handful of grenades, and –

"He had land mines…" Dean breathes, and Tawny walks up next to him.

"Which they didn't take," she points out. "Or the guns."

"Guess they knew what they were after, huh?" Dean says, and for the first time his eyes meet hers. When he does, Tawny feels a knot tighten in her throat at what she sees in the green depths: guilt, sadness, confusion, self-loathing, fear. Basically every bad emotion she's ever seen in his eyes, making them dark and flat and dull.

"Hey guys check this out."

Tawny pulls her gaze away from his and turns to Sam, trying to control her breathing. "See these symbols? He used binding magic."

"Yeah, they're Curse Boxes," Tawny replies, looking at them closer. "Looks like dad made them."

"Curse Boxes…" Dean ponders, looking at Tawny. "They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right? Kind of like the Pandora deal?"

"Yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object."

"Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, y'know, dangerous hexed items, fetishes. He never did say where they ended up."

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "This must be his toxic waste dump."

Tawny nods, taking a closer look at some of the symbols. She definitely recognizes them. "A lot of hunters have storage lockers. Y'know, somewhere they can store the bad stuff. Pretty good in theory, not so much in practice."

"So your dad has one?" Sam asks, and Tawny laughs. "Have you seen our house? It's like one giant storage locker."

"I can't believe you touched it, Sam."

"I didn't mean to! I swear! I just…"

"Just – what – Sam?! Just wanna die?!"

"No, Tawny! The guy was killing me! What'd you expect me to do?!"

Tawny huffs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. Okay, yeah, she can't exactly remember if the rabbit's foot is deadly, and, yeah, it did keep Sam and Dean from getting killed in that apartment, but… Sam should know better. Tawny looks over at him and when she sees he has the full puppy-eyes out, she groans.

"Saaa—aaam," she whines, glaring at him halfheartedly. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asks, completely innocent, and Tawny rolls her eyes again, leaning into his side.

"Like you're some puppy I just yelled at."

Sam's face only falls more and something inside Tawny aches. "Okay, okay. It wasn't your fault, you didn't know. I'm sorry," she finally says softly, adding a squeeze to his knee for good measure.

They fall back into silence, Sam leafing through John's journal as Tawny goes through her own memory, trying to figure out anything she can. To be honest, she was trying to avoid calling her dad in on this one for as long as possible. It isn't because she's avoiding him, per say. She just doesn't want him to get his hopes up that she's staying out on the road with the boys.

The door opening startles her, and she mentally scolds herself for letting her mind wander when Sam is obviously going to get in trouble because of this thing. It's just the way he is. When Tawny looks over at Dean, he's pulling something out of a paper bag.

"I'm not finding anything on it in dad's journal and Tawny can't remember Bobby ever mentioning a rabbit's foot," Sam says. Tawny groans when she sees the scratch tickets in Dean's hand, looking at him disapprovingly. She's fully expecting Sam's "Dean, come on…" when Dean holds the colorful cards up.

"What?!" Dean asks, and when Tawny and Sam both shoot him looks, he raises his eyebrows. "Hey, that was my gun he was aiming at your head. And my gun don't jam," Tawny snorts, drawing a glare from Dean "—so that was a lucky break. Not to mention them taking themselves out – also a lucky break."

He pulls the top ticket from the pile and holds it out for Sam. "Here. Scratch one." Sam looks at him warily, but finally snatches it from Dean's hand when Dean counters his "Come on…" whine. "Scratch and win," Dean enthuses.

Tawny sighs and hands Sam a quarter out of the cup of change Dean keeps on the dash, looking back over at her idiot ex. "Look, Dean," she says, watching as he leans over and watches Sam. "It's gotta be cursed somehow. Otherwise your dad wouldn't have locked it up."

But Dean ignores her, snatching the ticket out of Sam's hand and looking at it. "Twelve hundred dollars," he mumbles, and Tawny grabs the ticket out of his hand. Sure enough, it's worth $1200. "You just won $1200!" Tawny looks at it for another few seconds before glaring up at Dean when he lets out an excited shout. When he looks back at Sam, he grins wider.

"I dunno, man. It doesn't seem that cursed to me."

He holds out another ticket, which Tawny grabs. "Hey!" Dean protests, but Tawny turns her back to him, dodging his hands skillfully as she scratches at it with a nickel she grabbed. She holds it up for Dean to see when she uncovers the $1500 printed on it. She raises an eyebrow.

"See? I can do it, too."

Dean scoffs, trying to grab the ticket out of her hand, but she sticks it in her jacket's inside pocket before he can. He looks at her reproachfully for a second before handing Sam another ticket. He laughs loudly when Sam wins another $3000, and Tawny wonders if he'll ever grow up.

Tawny watches as Dean finishes off his third banana split. She really isn't too surprised that he still has the appetite of a high school football team, but it still amazes her that he can eat that damn much. As Dean pulls the spoon out of his mouth, he makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and Tawny feels something stir in her belly. She really hates to admit it, but she misses the sex something awful.

"Bobby's right," Sam suddenly says, looking up from his laptop. Tawny glances at him, turning to lean against the wall and prop her feet up on his lap. "This lore goes way back," he continues. "Pure hoodoo. You can't just cut one off any rabbit. It has to be in a cemetery under a full moon on a Friday the 13th."

Dean makes a move like he's going to say something important, but he just says "I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's." through a mouthful of ice cream. Then he groans, pressing the backs of his fingers to his forehead with an obvious brain-freeze. Tawny rolls her eyes, picking at the last of her fries while a waitress refills Sam's coffee. After relentless flirting, the waitress walks away, shooting one last look over her shoulder as both boys lean forward and watch her go.

"Dude, if you were ever gonna get lucky…" Dean says, then he looks at Tawny briefly. She rolls her eyes, shifting her weight to pull her feet off of Sam's lap. As soon as he reaches for his coffee cup, though, Tawny watches wide-eyed as he dumps it in his lap, shoots out of the booth and promptly smacks a tray out of a server's hand.

Tawny and Dean look at each other before turning back to Sam. "How was that good?" Dean asks, and Tawny looks at Sam's jacket pocket a split second before she climbs to the edge of the booth and shoves her hand in, but she only comes up with an empty lining. Without a word, they get up and run as quickly as they can to the parking lot. They're barely out the door, however, when Sam slips and falls onto the hard concrete.

"Wow. You suck," Dean says, and Tawny smacks him on the arm before walking over and helping Sam up.

"So, what? Now his luck turns bad?" Dean asks, and Tawny looks up at him as soon as she gets an arm around Sam's waist. She shrugs, only taking a step when Sam's hand is wrapped firmly around her own waist.

"I guess."

"I wonder how bad…" Dean mutters, turning and heading toward the car. Tawny rolls her eyes, walking with Sam the rest of the way. She can't help but notice the way his hand is falling on her hip, just the way Dean's would whenever he had his arm around her waist.

They're just leaving the thieves' apartment when Tawny's phone rings. She glances at the caller ID and sees it's Bobby, and Dean falls into step with her just as she picks up.

"Hey there, daddy-o. What'cha got?" she asks, ignoring Dean's stare. Sure, she's grown closer to Bobby since the break-up, but they've always been moderately affectionate.

"Great news, baby doll. Wasn't easy, but I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick," Bobby says, and Tawny looks at Dean, raising her eyebrows.

"Daddy, that's, uh, great but…" she says, turning to look at Sam, who now has a massive wad of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "Sam lost the foot, dad."

"He what?!" Bobby yells, apparently loud enough for Dean to hear. He holds out his hand and Tawny hands him the phone, glancing at Sam as he walks over to a storm grate and starts to scrape the gum off of his shoe.

"Bobby, listen," Dean starts turning away. "Listen, this hot chick stole it from him." Tawny rolls her eyes for him to see and catches his eye. "I'm serious. In her mid-20s, and she was sharp, y'know? Good enough to con even Tawny – yeah, I know how good Tawny is at picking up a con. She only gave the guys she hired a name – probably an alias or something. Luigi or something," he says, and Tawny rolls her eyes again.

"Lugosi," she corrects, and they both turn to look at Sam, who's still trying his best to scrape off the gum. He repeats the name and then pauses, obviously listening to whatever Bobby's saying.

"Oh, Bela Lugosi, that's cute."

Suddenly Tawny remembers her plain as day. It was about three years ago, just outside New Orleans. She was tracking a witch with another Hunter by the name of Chris Parrish (the fact that she was sleeping with him at the time had nothing to do with the hunt, of course). They'd followed her back to a room she was renting in some little B&B when Bela had interfered to get some hex bags to sell. Tawny and Chris were almost killed in the process, something he'd never really forgiven her for. He went his own way after that, but Tawny's still plotting revenge against Bela for what she'd done.

"She knew about the rabbit's foot. Is she a hunter?" Dean asks, and Tawny rolls her eyes. She can hear Bobby talking and holds Dean's gaze. "I guess she's back," Dean says quietly. "Great."

"Thanks, Bobby. Again," Dean finally says before he hangs up, and when they bother turn to look at Sam, Tawny doesn't know whether her hearts breaking or if she's about to burst into laughter. Sam looks at his hands before sullenly looking up at them. His bottom lip is poked out and his bangs are falling into his eyes, which are sad and dull. He looks like the world's most pathetic puppy, and all Tawny wants to do is hug him.

"What?" Dean asks, looking at him.

"I lost my shoe," Sam mumbles, and when Tawny looks down, sure enough, one foot is clad only in a black sock. Finally Tawny breaks and she shakes her head, poking her own lip out sympathetically. "Come here, baby," she says softly, and ignores Dean as he huffs and stalks off towards the car. Sam carefully hobbles towards her and Tawny catches him around the waist, helping him to get to the car balanced almost entirely on one foot. As soon as they slide into the front seat, Dean turns on the engine and shift the car into drive.

Tawny settles against Sam's side, smiling softly to herself when he leans his head against hers, his sock-clad foot resting gently on top of her boot. They make it to an intersection heading to the busiest part of town when Tawny's cellphone rings. She glances at the caller ID and hands the phone to Dean when she sees that it's Bobby, knowing that he's gonna want to talk to Dean anyways.

She can hear Bobby talking to Dean and snuggles closer to Sam. It's hard to believe that only three weeks ago Sam was laying on a mattress in the middle of some run down, abandoned house, cold and lifeless. The image shocks tears into Tawny's eyes and she turns her head, laying her cheek in the crook of his neck. She's able to compose herself just as Dean pulls into a motel. Dean thanks Bobby one more time and hangs up, handing the phone back.

"All right, Bobby's got it on pretty good authority that this Bela chick lives in Queens. So it'll take me about two hours to get there," he says, glancing at his watch.

"So, what're we doin' then?" Sam asks, and Tawny looks over at Dean.

"You, my brother, are stayin' here 'cause I don't want your bad luck gettin' us killed," Dean says, and Tawny clears her throat.

"Oh, don't even say it, short stack. You're stayin' here with Sammy so you can keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't fall on any kitchen utensils."

They pull around to the room, Dean careful to check everything three times as he walks in. "What am I even supposed to do, Dean?" Sam asks, and Dean grabs his sleeve. "Nothing, nothing," he urges, tugging Sam across the room. "Come here. I don't want you to do anything."

Tawny sits down on one of the beds and tugs off her boots as Dean moves a chair out to the middle of the room. "I want you to sit right here and don't move, okay? Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your nose. You need anything, just tell Tawny." Dean glances at her as he heads towards the door, giving her a knowing look.

Tawny stands, walking over to him. "Don't worry Dean. I got 'im. You go take care'a Bela," she says, touching his arm lightly. He puts his own hand over hers, squeezing her fingers lightly, and then he's gone. Tawny locks the door behind him, sliding the chain lock into place after turning the deadbolt. When she looks back at Sam, he's scratching his nose.

"Hey! No scratching!" Tawny snaps, a smile tugging at her lips when Sam huffs at her. She walks over to him, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He leans into the touch a little, smiling up at her. It turns a little sad, though, his browns furrowing just enough for Tawny to see.

"What were you thinking about – back in the car?" he asks, and Tawny sighs.

"You," she replies softly, and when her lip starts to tremble Sam pulls her into his lap. "I was thinking about you after… when you were…"

"When I was dead," Sam finishes, wrapping his arms around her waist. Tawny nods, wrapping her arms around Sam's shoulders. He looks at her, his eyes seeming to fade from green to blue and back again before Tawny's eyes and before Tawny knows what she's doing, her mouth is on Sam's in a kiss she didn't know she wanted. Looking back, Tawny will wonder why she didn't feel guilty for kissing Sam when she was so in love with Dean. It just feels right to kiss him though, feels good to have his tongue fluttering against hers and his hand tangling in her hair, and, God help them both, the pure, untainted, complete love flowing between them.

And for the briefest moment, a moment Tawny will long for the rest of her life, everything feels right.

If Tawny had a dollar for every time she'd been tied up, and not in the enjoyable way, she would have a very nice house. Or a kickass car.

She tried reasoning with the two guys who'd broken in, but God knows that never works. So she'd gone for her gun, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Sam, who was out cold on the floor, the drapes wrapped around him. Now here she was, duct taped to a damn chair, a handtowel-turned-gag stuffed in her mouth.

Duct tape? Really?

She's trying to figure out how she's going to get them out of this mess when she hears the annoying one say something about Gordon. That's when she starts cussing.

"Gordon?" Sam asks, shocked. "Oh, come on…"

He starts blabbering about a mission from God, and Tawny snorts just before the man slaps Sam. That's when the screaming starts. She tries to tell him to keep his Bible-banging son-of-a-bitch hands off of Sam, but all that comes out is a muffled "Eeoondsoahim!". She struggles against the duct tape, only getting a fraction of an inch closer to Sam before the other guy, the one with the accent, walks over and leans against the back of her chair, keeping her in place. The crazy one hits Sam again and Tawny damn-near screeches.

"You got anything to calm this one down?" the one behind her drawls, and the crazy one looks at her for a second.

"Got some chloroform in my bag," he says. "Not too much, though."

And the last thing she hears before darkness hits is the man's fist connecting with Sam's jaw.

"Dammit, Sam. If you don't sit still I can't do this right."

Tawny pulls away from Sam, waiting for him to stop fidgeting. After seeing Bela in the cemetery and having $46,000 worth of scratch tickets stolen, Tawny offered to take Sam back to a motel and let Dean go hustle some pool at a local bar. Now she's sitting on the edge of the bathtub across from a shirtless Sam, who's sitting on the lid of the toilet, sewing up his arm. Once he gets comfortable again, Tawny leans in and goes back to stitching him up.

"When I see Bela again, I'm gonna shoot her in her fucking kneecaps," Tawny practically growls. Sam sighs, looking at her as she finishes and ties off the deep gouge in Sam's arm. He sits patiently, only hissing a little when Tawny pours a liberal amount of whiskey on it, then tapes a piece of gauze over it. Finally, Tawny packs everything back into the first aid kit she keeps in her truck and looks at Sam.

"Done," she says softly, and for old times' sake, presses a kiss to the skin above the gauze. They hadn't discussed the kiss in the other motel. Tawny still wasn't sure what her feelings meant. Yes, she still wants Dean. She still loves him with all her heart, wants to spend the rest of her life with him.

But she wants Sam, too.

"Look, Tawny, about earlier," Sam says, turning to look at her. "I'm sorry. 's just… after everything with Dean… I know you love him like you'll never love me, and I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry."

Tawny looks at him, her eyes searching his, and when she sees how wounded he looks, her heart breaks just a little bit more. It's wrong, she knows it's wrong. She can't have them both. She has to choose.

Or does she? Her life has been so royally fucked up that it would almost be a normal reaction to have some twisted, wacked out relationship with two brothers. She knows in reality that it won't ever work, but that doesn't stop her from climbing into Sam's lap again, and pressing her lips to his again, and sliding her tongue across his lower lip again.

Sam groans into her mouth, and she can tell it's taking all of his willpower not to rip at her clothes. So she does it for him. She pulls away enough to grab one massive hand and slide it up under her tanktop.

"Do it, Sam," Tawny murmurs, her forehead pressed against his. He tilts his head enough to lick across her bottom lip and into her mouth, and Tawny knows how to end his hesitation. "Want you so bad," she whispers.

The reaction she gets is the exact one she wants. Sam growls, both hands grasping her waist as he attacks her mouth. He lifts her to give her enough room to straddle his lap and then he's standing, one arm under her thighs, holding her to him, the other hand tugging at her shirt. She breaks away from his lips long enough to pull it over her head, then they're kissing again, a wet, sloppy clashing of teeth and sliding of tongues. He ducks though the bathroom door without either of them hitting the top of the doorway, a feat Tawny's both amazed at and glad for, and stumbles over to the bed. He manages to get Tawny's bra off before gently laying her down. Tawny scrambles up to her knees, tugging at Sam's belt, peppering kisses along his chest and abs as she gets it and his jean's open.

"Oh, my God," she breathes when she gets his jeans tugged down just over the swell of his ass. She knew Sam was big, she just didn't remember him being this big. When she looks up, Sam's looking away through his bangs, his cheeks pink.

"That was a good 'oh, my God', baby. Definitely good," she whispers. When he looks at her, she tilts her head, silently asking for a kiss. His tongue almost immediately meets her own as she shoves at his jeans and boxers, getting them down his thighs to let gravity do the rest.

Sam pulls away, mumbling a quick "Your turn" before he's tugging at her jeans, getting them off in record time. He tosses them over his shoulder, neither of them caring in the least where they land, and then he's crawling over Tawny, settling between her spread thighs.

"C'mon, baby," Tawny urges, her fingers brushing through his hair to tangle in the silky strands. Sam leans down to press his lips to hers again, his tongue delving in to wrap around hers, both sliding together in a careful dance. He balances his weight on one forearm next to her head, sliding his other hand down to guide his head to her opening. He pauses again, long enough to pull away, and when he slides into her Tawny's glad he did.

She gasps, feeling her muscles stretch and flutter around him, but what she's focused on now is the look on Sam's face. His lips part, his forehead creasing in concentration and Tawny knows he's trying hard not to just slam into her and take like she knows he wants to. Once he's buried to the hilt in her tight, slick channel, he pauses again, letting her get used to the invasion. It's a pause she doesn't need.

"C'mon, Sammy. Fuck me already," she says. He rolls his hips once, almost experimentally, and when Tawny cries out softly and brings her calves up to rest gently against his hips, he's obviously urged on. He picks up a quick rhythm, pounding into Tawny hard enough to shift her up the mattress a few inches with each deep thrust into her.

It doesn't take long for the slow burn of orgasm to pull at Tawny, and she pulls away from his mouth. "Roll over?" she asks, and Sam grins. He manages to get them rolled over, still buried in Tawny. She leans forward, lacing her fingers with his as she starts to ride him. She catches his gaze, holding it even as her orgasm finally hits, and through the haze she can feel Sam pulsing and swelling inside her as he spills his seed deep in her channel.

She collapses on his chest, nuzzling the soft skin under his jaw. "Love you," he murmurs. Tawny sighs. "Love you, too. Sammy."

He tugs them both up to the head of the bed, pulling the sheets up enough to cover them. Sam's breathing quickly evens out and Tawny knows he's asleep. She props herself up on her elbow, running her finger along one side of his jaw. She slides the pad of her thumb over the swell of his lips, the flesh still slightly swollen and kiss-bruised. She thinks of Dean and expects a feeling of dread to wash over her, for guilt to plague her mind, but when it doesn't she wonders why. She shakes her head softly, pressing one last kiss to Sam's mouth as she moves to climb out of the bed.

It only takes Tawny a few minutes to dress and gather her things, picking up her truck keys off of the table by the door. She shoves a hand in her pocket and feels the sharp edge of her scratch ticket. She pulls it out, looking at the bright red and purple piece of paper, then takes a step towards Dean's bed. She lays the scratch ticket on his pillow before pulling her phone out of her pocket and texting Dean.

Leaving motel. Sammy's sleeping.

She pauses, looking between the bright glowing screen and Sam, then she adds Don't be mad at him. It was my fault.

She hits send and walks out into the cool night air, tears stinging her eyes as she leaves yet another Winchester behind.