"Lory, what are you doing?" Sam sighed as he walked into the kitchen, following the smell of bacon.

He shook his head when he spotted the source.

"I'm making breakfast," she nodded with her innocent smile, leaned back with a hand on her hip.

Her stance was much like that of a woman who had been carrying a child for eight or so months. However, her stomach housed a nasty opening in the place of a child.

"Yeah, I can see that. I mean, what are you doing, cooking breakfast for the entire house and/or a small army when you just got out of the hospital yesterday?"

"I figured you guys would want a change from diner food," shrugged the girl, "and since Bobby is incapacitated, I decided to cook. Don't worry. I'm a good cook."

Smirking as he approached, he placed a hand on her hip, softly, slyly mumbling, "I bet."

"Bacon!" Dean grinned like a child- a ravenous child- as he swayed into the kitchen.

Sam jumped and immediately withdrew his hand.

"Very observant," the girl smiled, shooting him a gentle glance, "and there's a couple of different kinds of eggs, and toast if you feel like something lighter, and if you don't, I made sausage and pancakes. And Dean, I know you like waffles so I-"

"Wait- " Sam stopped her, shaking his head a little, "You made all that food?"

"Yeah, it's all staying warm in the oven," Lory smiled, looking slightly proud of herself.

Dean simply raised his brows in amusement.

The youngest brother continued, "And how long did it take you?"

"Uhm… I lost track of time. I couldn't sleep, so I started on the biscuits at about six- oh, almost forgot about those! They're warming, too! I hope they didn't dry out…"

"You've been standing up here cooking for like two hours when we should be serving you," Sam frowned, attempting to reason, but the look in her eyes saw no error.

"I'm fine. Really," she smiled at Sam and then turned to Dean, nodding in reassurance.

"Lory, you're anything but fine. There's a hole in your belly of 'Videodrome' proportions-"

"Sam…" she began softly, "I like to cook. It makes me happy. And I've seen you guys eat. Half a box of Cheerios was not going to cut it."

"Well," Dean smirked as he made his way over to her, "I, for one, greatly appreciate this gesture, Lory. Thank you."

As one arm extended to the dish rack for a freshly washed plate, the other snaked around Lory's body, briefly and sloppily pulling her hip into his. Both Sam and Lory shot him suspicious looks.

"What?" Dean shrugged, defending, "I hug."

Lory donned her mitts before leaning down to empty the oven. Mid-bite, bacon hanging from his mouth. Dean paused for a second, as did Sam. Pajama pants did wondrous things. When one brother caught the eye of another, they averted gazes- not taking a beat to do that "man thing" and smirk to one another. No, they simply turned away, silently agreeing never to speak of it.

"Would someone mind taking a plate up to Bobby?" she asked before deciding to sample one of her maple link sausages.

Dean grunted, "He broke an arm, not a leg."

"I'll do it," offered Sam.

After a few seconds of shoveling, and a few more of pouring, she handed Sam the edible mountain on a tray, accompanied by a juice glass and a steaming mug.

"All set. Thank you. And when you get down, your plate will be on the table," she beamed.

Not knowing what else to do, Sam shrugged with a confounded grin.

"Thanks."

It felt wonderful to be cared for.

Dean, on the other hand, did know what to do. He was forking food into his mouth before he even reached the table.

"This is so good! The eggs are perfect!"

He mentally compared the fluffy mouth-feel of the scrambled with the slickness of the sunny-side-up.

"Thanks. Glad you like them," she grinned, truly content with herself.

He chomped placidly for a while before turning to her.

"Just one question though."

Sitting an utterly towering plate beside him (that must have been Sam's) she raised her eyes to him.

"Shoot."

"Do you bake?"

She nodded, "Mmhmm."

"Pie?" he hissed almost in disbelief.

"Any kind you like," she smiled her warm smile.

And he smiled back.

You're beautiful….

0000000000000

"Good God, I think I gave myself a hernia, eating like that," Bobby sighed, patting his protruding gut with his uncast hand.

Lory giggled, "I'll take that as a good thing?"

"Oh, honey, you should. Do you know how to let out pants, too?"

"Where did you learn how to cook like that?" asked Sam, looking up from his laptop.

"My mom…" she answered with a slight hint of sadness in her voice, but like a hyperactive child, she piped, "Ooh!"

Springing from her seat, she stepped to the half-open closet. She reached in, and as she pulled back out, she marveled at the thing in her hand.

"Bobby, I didn't know you played guitar!"

"I don't. That belonged to my wife."

"Oh… Sorry, I'll put it back."

"No, no. Go ahead. You ain't gonna hurt it. It's all dented up anyway."

"It's beautiful," she beamed at the gently shining oak body.

Sitting on the floor, legs crossed, she began to tentatively tune it, her small hands fluttering about the strings.

Sam averted his attention once more.

"You play?"

"Mmmhmm. I'm no Slash or anything, and I haven't played in a long time…"

But the melody to followed struck her undue humbleness.

"No way…" Sam gaped through a hanging jaw.

Dean came trampling down the stairs, hands still dripping soap and water.

"I heard 'Stairway to Heaven'."

The guilty party looked up and shrugged bashfully.

"Sorry."

"'Sorry'? That was you?"

The second cleft Winchester chin hit the ground.

"Yeah. You like Zep, don't you? "

Zep… She called them 'Zep'…

"Yeah! Uhm… Play-"

He cut himself off mid-sentence as the girl began to play the first few notes of Lynyrd Skynrd's "Freebird".

Softly, almost feeling a tear come to his eye, he whispered, "How did you know?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm psychic?" she scoffed, "What's the one song that gets requested every single time someone pulls out a guitar?"

"True," he nodded, hands on his hips, "So very true."

Sam's eyes did a 360.

You've got to be kidding me.

"I've got every Led Zeppelin and Skynrd album on CD in the car. "

"Wanna bring them in so we can listen together?" she offered, her eyes glittering with hope.

"You couldn't possibly get the full experience unless you're doing 80 and you have it blasting with the windows up. It's all dirt roads out here. What do you say?"

"Uhm, sure!"

She rose, trailing him, in Sam's opinion, like a lovesick puppy.

Just before reaching the door, Dean halted her, "Oh- don't forget your jacket. It's chilly."

In one swift motion, he pulled her sweatshirt from the closet and draped it over her shoulders. And just like that, they were out the door, leaving Sam completely speechless. He turned to Bobby, looking for some sort of help. All the man could offer was a shrug.

"I suggest you start watchin' VH1, son."

00000000000000000

Sam hadn't quite given up watching the door and looking out the windows.

"He's not answering his phone and they've been gone like nine and a half hours!" Sam grunted, pacing the length of the coffee table.

"You been keeping count, son?" Bobby asked, trying to crane his neck about the large frame.

"What could they possibly be doing that long?!"

"Well, Dean's thirty, so it ain't what you're thinkin'. Not for nine hours. 'Less he got ahold of some of that Viagra-"

"Something could be wrong. Bobby, this isn't funny."

"Heh, I'm sure cracking the hell up. Listen, Sam, if you want the girl, why don't you say something?"

Sam paused.

That's a good question…

"Who said I wanted her?"

"Fifty-something years of experience. She's a sweet girl, Sam."

"Yeah, sweet and innocent and impressionable, and trapped in a car with that sex-addicted maniac."

He could almost feel both his heart and stomach collapse at the thought.

"Well, if she's as sweet as we think, nothing's going on. Move out the way, damn it, boy! I'm trying to watch 'Lost'!"

00000000000000000

"I love this song," Lory sighed, her head resting against the seat.

They had long been parked, and had this been Dean's teenage years, or if Lory were just some cheap woman he picked up in a bar, he would have been pulling out for the second time tonight.

"Ah, Heart. Chick rockers, gotta love 'em. Wait, it gets better. This is a Power Ballad Mix. Sam's."

The car was silent for a moment, save for the clicking of the changer and the sound of crickets outside. Then Dean settled.

"No way! Sam listens to REO Speedwagon?"

"Yeah, I know, right?" he scoffed.

"I LOVE REO Speedwagon!"

"Right?" he faltered, choking a little on his own spit, as well as his pride.

"You hate them, don't you?"

"With a fiery, burning passion," he confessed.

"It's okay. You don't have a vagina. It's expected of you."

Vagina… I bet no one has ever touched that vagina, huh?

They briefly shared a laugh.

…Sweet virgin…

"I think I lost my virginity to this song…" he blurted, simply following his stream of consciousness.

"Really? Who was the girl? Ione Sky?" she laughed a little.

"Nope. Stacy Sherridan. I was fourteen, she was sixteen."

"Oh, so you like them older?"

His eyes connected with hers.

"Not anymore…"

Would you let me touch you right now? Your vagina?

Lory averted her eyes and looked out the window.

"Thanks."

"Hmm?"

He was jarred from his reverie.

"For being so nice to me and stuff. I really enjoyed hanging with you today, listening to music, not worrying about anything."

"Lory, you don't have to thank me," he shrugged, "I should be thanking you. You took a knife for me. I should be groveling on my knees."

Would you like that? For me to get on my knees for you?

"Besides, I like hanging out with you," he continued, "You're a cool girl. I never gave you a chance. I'm going to make that all up to you, though."

"Dean," smiled Lory in exasperation, "you don't have to make up anything."

"I do, Lory," he sighed, gripping her hand and squeezing gently.

The tension almost suffocated them both. He let it linger before turning to her, letting his eyes meet hers again. This time, he did not turn away. And this time, he would not let her.

"I remember what you said to me, Lory," he whispered, smoothing his thumb over the back of her hand.

"W-what?"

She knew very well what he spoke of, but she felt the need to buy time- to think. And the worst part was, she knew what he was doing, but she was weak. She doubted that she would have the strength to stop both him and herself if it came down to it.

"You told me you love me," he whispered, leaning closer to her, holding her hand to his side.

"Dean, I thought I was going to die. I wouldn't have said it otherwise," she replied flatly, intent on looking straight ahead.

"But you meant it. That's all that matters. You don't have to hide it. I feel the same way."

She glanced back up at him, at the serious look on his face, and she couldn't help herself. She couldn't hold back.

"Thanks…" he scowled.

She covered her mouth so she technically wouldn't be laughing in his face.

"It's really not that funny. I don't see how it's funny at all," he grunted, his face turning redder and redder in a combination of embarrassment and anger.

"Dean, I'm sorry, but how do you go from loathing me to loving me in a week?"

"The entire time you were in the hospital, I did nothing but think-"

"Oh, really? All three days?"

"Why do you have to be like that?"

Sadly, she sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't believe me."

"Should I?"

"YES!"

"I believe that you tricked yourself into thinking you love me so that you can be with me to repay some sort of debt that you think you owe me."

She folded her arms, looking for his rebuttal.

"That's not true! Dolores Fletcher, I am in love with you! Look at me! It doesn't happen often, but I know what it feels like. Every little thing you do makes me smile and each second I spend with you, the stronger it grows! I'm pouring my heart out here!"

Her sad eyes fell upon his face- a face she loved more than life. The earnestness in the creases in his brow made her need to believe him, but the only thing of which she was convinced was the fact that he had deluded himself. The guilt and anguish had driven him to hysteria.

"You don't owe me anything, Dean…"

"This isn't what this is about! I told you! What can I do to make you believe me, huh?" the tone in his voice was mostly desperate, but slightly irritated, "Shout it from the rooftops? Get it tattooed on my back? Nothing I say is getting through to you? Do you need a visual aid? I can make a PowerPlay on Sam's computer."

"PowerPoint."

"Whatever!"

"You can't make one if you don't even know what it's called," she laughed.

"Well…I'll do things the old-fashioned way," he hissed.

Without warning, he yanked her into him, kissing wildly all over the skin of her neck, groping her back and sides roughly.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"I'm showing you how much I love you," he groaned between sloppy, wet kisses.

"You're bruising me," she said flatly.

"I'll slow it down…"

"Why don't we put on the parking brake while we're at it?"

"So now you've changed your mind? What, are you punishing me for before?"

"Let's be mature here."

"You're the one who is acting like a little girl!"

"Because I don't want to have sex with you in your car?"

He half-screamed, gripping his hair, "Because you don't know what you want!"

She shook her head, taking in the blackness of the outside sky.

"I know exactly what I want. And it's not this. It's not pity sex. You don't realize how much worse that would make things, do you?"

"I don't pity you, Lory. I love you."

Her hand gently swept across the roughness of his cheek.

"Dean… Honestly? I don't really see you being capable of loving anyone but Sam and yourself."

He grunted, quickly turning away from her and starting the car. He was thankful that the eye that started to tear was the one that was turned away from her.

"Let's go."

And I meant every word I said

When I said that I love you

I meant that I love you forever

And I'm gonna keep on lovin' you

'Cause it's the only thing I wanna do

I don't wanna sleep

I just wanna keep on lovin youuuuuu

*mental drum solo*

(Don't own the song)

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