"Head any better?" Laraje checks on him as she opens the closet door and looks him over, fresh glass of wine in hand. She left him alone for a while to let Dean sleep a little, the concussion making him exhausted. Her voice pulls him out of his sleep and for the first time he isn't excited to hear it. Waking up to Lizzy's comforting words usually puts him in a wonderful place and he hopes that this moment won't ruin that for him in the future.
"Ah, fuck," Dean groans as he pries his heavier than usual head off of the makeshift flannel pillow he created and is greeted by the angry blaze of the overhead hallway lighting, making it feel as though his head is splitting in two.
"I'll assume no then," Laraje comments while kicking the pill bottle over to him. "Take another."
"Nah, I'm fine," Dean responds as he shifts to sit up from his slouched position.
"Yeah, you look it," she sarcastically remarks before dropping to the floor and sitting against the wall opposite the still open closet doorway. She sits Indian-style and peers at him, sipping her drink as he regains consciousness enough to intelligibly talk. "Here," she tosses him a clean, white towel.
"You're getting trusting of me," Dean comments as he takes the offering and replaces his now ruined shirt. He realizes she's going to keep the door open this time around.
"Or you're getting dumber," Laraje smirks. "You have not a single weapon on you and all I have to do to stop you is wave my hand. I think I'll risk it." She winks at him with a tight lipped smile.
"Look, this conversation is getting old and my fucking head is killing me, no thanks to you. You gonna let her go or not?" Dean wonders as his impatience is grating on him. He can't stop worrying about Lizzy. She's stuck in there, having to hear all this information about his past. He doesn't know how bad the slice in her wrist is nor if this demon really will let her go free once this is all done. If he were to be honest, he's terrified. "Because I have to tell ya', trying to focus on this conversation with you is kinda tough when I don't know if she's walking away from this."
"Fucking relax," Laraje says. "You are on vacation after all, aren't you?"
"Some vacation," he grumbles miserably.
"Do hunters even get vacations?" Laraje rebuts.
"As of right now, my answer to that would be a big fucking no," Dean says and he watches as Laraje laughs at his words. The laugh isn't unlike Lizzy's. It's surprisingly warm and light. "Creepy."
Laraje looks at him with confusion, tilting Lizzy's head in a way reminiscent of Castiel when he doesn't understand something.
"Sorry, I've just never seen or heard a demon laugh like that," Dean explains himself. "Usually it's one of those lame, B movie, bad guy gut-laughs."
"Yeah, well, most demons also want to kill everything and thrive on putting fear in others."
"You don't?" Dean asks with surprise.
"I get my rocks off in other ways," she says while looking at the floor and hiding her smile.
"Like?" He's curious, never having met a demon that didn't want to gut him on the spot. What the hell else would a demon get its kicks from?
"So how about that Cassie Robinson, huh?" Laraje changes the subject, peering up at Dean and waiting for his response.
"Nice avoidance of the question," he remarks.
"Sooner you give me what I want, the sooner you get back what you want," she reminds him, Lizzy's chestnut eyes glinting back at him.
"Alright," Dean complains, knowing how hefty this conversation will be. Maybe a little whiskey wouldn't kill him right now. He reaches over, feeling his muscles protest against the movement after having fallen asleep on such a hard surface as he does, grasps the fifth of Wild Turkey and cracks the cap open. Taking a long pull straight from the bottle, he then focuses once more on the demon. "Cassie was a good girl. Awesome, actually."
"How awesome?" Laraje questions, leaning forward with her intent focus on him. He sees just how much she enjoys these conversations now that the door doesn't block him from her during them. This is how she gets her rocks off.
"Like she was smart, really smart. And not just book smart like Sam. Cassie was wise beyond her years. And a bit of a wise ass too." He has fun recalling her. Though she hurt him, he still learned a lot from their time together.
"What was your deal with her?" the demon asks, lifting the wine glass to Lizzy's lips as she does.
"Met her while on the road with dad a while back, it was when Sam was at school. God that whole thing sucked and being with just Dad wasn't always a fucking picnic. Sam had already been gone for about a year so I had gotten used to finding ways to occupy myself during the more boring times on the road by then," he freely admits. "She was beautiful. The first time I saw her at that college bar I had to talk to her. Once I finally did, she laughed in my face when I dropped a line on her. Not one girl had ever so blatantly blew me off like that…."
"Be careful," Laraje warns with a slight grin. "Don't want to make that ego of yours any bigger than you've already made it."
"Guess you don't know me that well just yet," Dean comments, knowing his ego was mostly just a front. It was something Lizzy had let him in on a long time ago in her efforts to make him a better person and more manageable to even himself. She was right, spot on as always.
"So she blew you off…" Laraje gets him back on track.
"And I tried again and skipped the cheesy lines. I just talked to her. She responded better that time, giving me the chance to buy her a drink and hang with her for the night."
"I smell a one night stand coming on." She smiles to him from across the hall.
"So did I at the time," Dean tells her. "But the next day she actually wanted to hang out more and oddly enough, I wanted to too. We then saw each other every day for the few weeks I was in town. It was great."
"But as history has proven, all good things in the life of a Winchester must come to an end," Laraje comments, looking at him attentively as he contemplates her words.
"Well… no… I just had to leave and head to the next hunt. I had no intentions of ending it with Cassie."
"But you made a huge mistake with her, Dean," she cuts in. "You never should have told her the truth. You were well aware that you can't tell people about what you do. It never ends well."
"And I regretted it. For a long time I regretted it," he explains. "I thought that it was my fault and I beat myself up over the whole thing, thought that I was the one who screwed it up. But after a while I realized that it was actually her fault."
"How so?" Laraje questions, confusion on Lizzy's face.
"I was totally truthful, told her about my life and let her in. It was the first time I've ever taken down my wall because I wanted to make things work. I liked her."
"Correction," she cuts in. "You loved her."
"Yeah, maybe I did," he admits.
"No maybe. Be honest here, Lizzy's depending on it." Laraje gives him a look along with the very serious threat that reminds him he better keep with the truth.
"Fine, I loved her. I did. And she crapped on my heart." Dean's face twists with the flood of emotions that come back to him. He feels the rejection, sadness, and utter disappointment once more, as if the whole thing was happening all over again.
"To be fair, you did say she was smart. And smart people don't believe in ghosts and monsters and tend to shy away from those that do."
"I don't know what I expected," he admits. "In my head, everything could have worked out. I would visit her every chance I got and one day get out of the game and give it an honest go. How I could think that was doable seems stupid now."
"That's interesting," Laraje says, pointing at him accusingly and honing in on his words. "Isn't that exactly what you're attempting to do now?"
"No, not at all. I can't get out," Dean tells her. "Not right this minute at least. You know, the Apocalypse and all. Hell, even if I make it out of this alive, which I don't assume I will, I'm beginning to wonder if there will ever be a way out."
"You're missing the point." Laraje take another sip of wine and before she can begin schooling him a little more Dean takes a swig of whiskey to prepare himself. The amount of good points she's been making is beginning to leave him second guessing the way he's attempting to live his life.
"And here's where your smart ass informs me of how it really is, right?" He raises his eyebrows at her, waiting for the lecture.
"Absolutely," she grins. "You say it was stupid of you to think you could ever make anything work between you and Cassie for reasons such as you could only see her now and then, she'd always be waiting for you, and because you'd never find a way to get out of hunting and make a real life with her. Now, I'd love for you to explain to me how that's any different than what you're trying to do with Lizzy."
Dean sighs loudly as his words fail to formulate. How was it different? I certainly felt different, very different, but on paper it was the same damn story all over again.
Laraje shares a lopsided sad grin coated in sympathy. "You can't, can you?"
"It is different," Dean tries to tell her.
"How?" Laraje challenges.
"It just is," he simple says as if it would be plenty for her to accept.
"Not good enough, Dean," she warns.
"It's different because Lizzy is different," he finally half shouts, causing the headache to flare up with the effort. "She isn't Cassie. She's better, more understanding. She gets the life I live. I mean, shit, she's lived it. Still is."
"So what?" Laraje returns with a little fire of her own. "She's still just a woman like Cassie. She needs to be with the person she loves. Every night that she has to sleep alone, every morning that she wakes up without you kills her a little more. She's tired, Dean. Tired of missing you. Tired of wondering when she'll actually see you again. Tired of wondering if you're alive or if today is the day that Sam calls to say you're dead…again. It isn't fair to her."
Laraje pauses, glaring at Dean with narrowed eyes but he just looks down at the bottle in his hand before taking another large gulp. She never told him these things, most likely so she doesn't upset him. She cares so damn much that he had no idea how much their relationship was taking a toll on her. She's unhappy and he made her that way.
"It's not your fault," Laraje keeps going. "You didn't choose this life, it chose you. You are a hunter Dean, that's your lot. It comes with a hero status, constant broken bones, a shorter than usual lifespan, and an inability to keep others close to you. You need to let Lizzy go and let her live her life."
"No," Dean refuses immediately. "We're better together than apart. What happened to her when I was gone, it was bad. She didn't sleep, didn't eat, drank constantly. I can't leave her and make her crumble like that all over again. She needs me."
"And she's a hell of a lot stronger than you give her credit," Laraje informs him. "She muddled through when you were stuck in the devil's playground. Lizzy maintained a job, a life, reconnected with old friends. She was on the road to being ok. She could be again."
"And what if I need her?" Dean spills out with his eyes closed, admitting something to not only Laraje and certainly Lizzy, but to himself also. "What if she keeps me together, in one piece? What if I'm the one who will crumble without her, huh? I'm barely hanging on as it is. Without Lizzy, my life would be total shit and I wouldn't want to live it. I need her."
"Awful selfish of you, Hot Shot." He looks up quickly to see her blank expression staring back. "You'd be willing to keep her in your life, keep her miserable every day, just so that you can find some sort of happiness?" Laraje shakes her head in disapproval. "I hope you think that's worth it. Of course, in my opinion if you love someone, truly love them, you do whatever you can to make their life the best it possibly can be. You sure you're doing that for Lizzy?"
Dean drops his head in his hands with the barrage of thoughts she's inserting into his now very confused head. Was he really doing all this to her? It isn't fair. She's so loving and good and she deserves to be with someone that can always make her life better. If he is actually making her this unhappy, he can't stay in her life, but he had been so sure that he wasn't doing that. They were so damn happy when together.
"I…" Dean starts but his words disappear.
"What?" Laraje bids to him.
"I love her," he admits. "More than I love my own self. Way more actually. And I don't want…"
He's cut off by a sound coming from the front porch. It was clicking of metal on metal and it lets both the hunter and demon know that someone is attempting to pick the front door lock. They know that sound well.
"Hold that thought," Laraje wittily commands as she stands up and walks to him. She takes his blood caked flannel shirt and quickly ties his sleeve around his mouth, gagging him and impairing his voice. Halfway through her task, Dean begins fighting back but soon enough he's forced against the back wall of the closet by her unseen strength. "Stop it, Dean. You know I'm going to win."
She then uses the other sleeve to bind his hands tightly behind him. "I'm going to go see who was nice enough to come visit us during such terrible weather and you sit put. Oh and be sure to keep quiet… don't want to put Lizzy in any unnecessary harm, right?" She winks before shutting the door and locking it behind her.
In the darkness, Dean listens as Laraje makes her way down the stairs, the sound of Lizzy's bare feet slapping onto hard wood to the front door. He feels his heart race as he's helpless against whatever is about to come through that door, knowing that it will all end with either Laraje killing whoever it is or Lizzy getting hurt… or worse.
"Hi there," Lizzy's sweet voice greets as she opens the door mid-pick. The man standing on the other side, still hunched over, looks up in surprise and abruptly stands while shoving his hands in his pockets to hide the evidence. "Can I help you?" She puts her full, wide smile on display.
"Uh," the stranger stutters with her unexpected appearance. "I'm looking for Dean. A friend of mine told me he'd be here." He averts his eyes once he realizes she's only in a t-shirt and underwear, even though she shows no sign of embarrassment.
Shit, Dean thinks as he freezes in place and strains to hear what's happening in the foyer through the closet door. He could swear he recognizes the man's voice he just heard.
"Oh!" she brightly responds. "Yeah, he's here. Sleeping, actually." She presses her index finger to her lips, asking him to be quiet.
"Ok," the man cautiously says, unsure of what to do in the situation. He was told that Dean was here with a woman who was possessed. This girl didn't seem possessed….
"He's on shore leave right now," she explains. "Been up for days straight and needed to crash pretty damn hard, and judging by the lock pick and the gun you're trying to hide, I assume you know how that is."
The man looks at her with shock. She just continues smiling right back at him and extends her hand in his direction.
"Lizzy Noonan," she greets as the man takes her hand and shakes. "Female hunter extraordinaire."
"Jackson Ferrell," he returns. "Also a hunter, just not female. And I'm a friend of Bobby Singer's."
Jack! Dean remembers Jackson from a few years back. The guy was tracking down a nasty witch in Utah when their paths crossed. If Dean and Sam hadn't ganked that witch when they did, this guy would be as good as dead with the curse she'd put on him. Damn it, Jack! What is he doing here!
"Oh hell, any friend of Bobby's is a friend of mine!" she grins.
"Yeah, he was worried about you two, thought something might be wrong," Jackson explains as he takes his hand back and scans the inside of the apartment. "Called and asked me to come check it out."
"In this weather!" Her eyes bug out of her head. "Is he nuts!"
"Hey, Dean saved my ass a few years back and I owe the kid one for that," Jackson smiles slightly. "If I have the chance to return the favor, I can brave a little snow."
"Well, shit man. Come on in," she warmly invites, opening the door wider. "There's no way you're driving back home in this. Come warm up and wait it out with us. You can catch up with Dean once his lazy ass wakes up." She laughs a little and steps aside, her hand gesturing for him to come in. He steps up over the threshold, looking down at the scattered salt line and the knot in his stomach tightens. The Winchesters were perfect hunters, he knows that for sure, and they'd never surround themselves with shitty ones so he knows Lizzy should be pretty on point herself. Neither would have let something like a carelessly broken salt line pass them.
Sitting in the closet unable to help is making Dean insane. He can't see what's happening and however this ends it won't be good, he's sure of it.
"I'm relieved to see that everything is fine around here," Jackson says to her once he's standing at the bottom of the staircase and turns to face her. He reaches into his pants pocket once his back is to her, grasping firmly onto the metal flask within it. "Bobby seemed real worried. He looks at you two like his own kids, you know."
"Oh, I know," she tells him, overly fake smile still in place. "That's why he'd be pissed to hear you came in here and tried to hurt me."
Jackson's nerves go into overdrive with her odd words. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you are about to douse me in holy water, right?" she questions him. "Seeing as Bobby is no idiot, I think you know that holy water is gonna burn me like a bitch, so why don't you just drop it." Her suggestion is strongly emphasized but her smile never fades.
God damn it, Jackson! Dean presses his back against the far wall of the closet and draws in his legs, pushing them out and forcefully hitting the closet door, trying to break it down.
Once Jackson hears the loud bang coming from upstairs, he knows just how wrong the whole situation is. Exercising his best judgment in the moment, he decides not to heed the given warning and pulls the flask quickly from his pocket. She shakes her head no as he fumbles with the screw cap.
"I tried to warn you," Laraje says sadly as she raises her hand, flicking her wrist quickly clockwise. Pete's head twists to the right sharply, the cracking noises filling the quiet foyer and his body thuds onto the floor lifelessly.
"No!" Laraje hears a voice shout out with Jackson's unfortunate death and before she can turn around a white hot pain hits her upper right shoulder.
"Ahhh!" she shouts out in sheer pain.
Dean bellows through the cloth in his mouth with panic and tries harder to break down the door with the sound of her screams. She's hurt, he knows it. Whether it's his Lizzy or not, he doesn't care. He needs to get to her. The wood begins cracking and splintering beneath his sock-covered feet with the next kick.
Laraje turns quickly to see a much younger man standing in the open door, a mixture of surprise and fear written deep into his expression. He glances down at the floor and his face turns white with the sight of Jackson's dead body. "Oh God. Dad."
"Fuck," Laraje complains as she reaches over her shoulder and grasp the knife handle sticking out of Lizzy's back. "Said it before and I'll say it again." She strides quickly over to the young man who's standing still, clearly in shock. Expertly twirling the knife handle in her hand to reposition her grip, she swipes the blade through the air and slices deeply into the young man's neck. Laraje watches as he clutches tightly onto his immediately profusely bleeding throat, eyes wide with panic and searching Lizzy's face. "I fucking hate hunters."
The young man falls to the floor and soon enough grows still with blood loss, his eyes wide and motionless.
Now that the apartment is quiet once more, Dean's left question what is happening. He heard her voice so he knows she's alive. The struggle is clearly over and he's left alone with his imagination, running wild and creating scenarios that horrify him.
Laraje sighs heavily with the now messy foyer, covered in blood and stupid hunters. She contemplates cleaning up the disaster but instead steps over the younger body, closes and locks the front door, and makes her way across the lifeless obstacles to climb back up the stairs, her bare feet leaving deep red footprints on the gleaming wooden floor as she goes.