I had stayed up have the night making sure not to do the opposite of thinking and remembering as I focused on my little mission at hand. I had started with my little lonely red dot in Wyoming and branched out with black dots to all the places Dean and John had left to after me. Unfortunately these went by quickly so when that was finished I circled in green areas that were visited quite often. That took a little more time since I needed to calculate just 'how much' would consider the visits as 'quite often.' But even that came to an end and when it did I took my blue marker and retraced all the major water-ways like lakes and rivers. Everything was going quite well until I got to Texas. There was somthing about that state that knocked me out on Houston and had be drewling on Dallas before a beat had passed. To my relief-and chagrin-it wasn't the dreams that invaded this momentary lapse of consciousness.

It was the memories.

The day after the unwanted confession was filled with silence. I found some pride in the fact that I was able to get all of my belongings packed into the Impala without talking to the cops or the Winchesters. I guess they assumed I was dead too. Dr. Walcott told me he needed to clear a few things up with the police that thought I was dead before he could move the entire pracitce and his family again. He needed to explain a few things to the Mrs. I guessed she wasn't too thrilled about another upheavil.

After I had said goodbye to him, for just a short while, John escorted me and Dean back to the car for our final voyage together. Just as we were getting into the Imapla though, John decided he had forgotten something and took the time to run back inside so Dean and I could have some alone time. Unfortunately it was not the thing I had wanted. The hours after finding out I was going to be disposed up I reverted back to the shell my aunt and uncle had helped me build over the years. There was no chance I was going to speak, I knew if I did I would just burst into tears and I didn't want that. I wanted John and Dean to have their last image of me angry and strong. Not blubbering and helpless.

So in all, I wasn't going to speak.

But I didn't have to.

Dean broke the silence with a weak and sudden, "This is for the best."

I didn't respond. I kept my mouth shut into a tight line and part of me thought I should give him a break but I couldn't even consider it. I was so angry and heartbroken and most of all I was an idiot. How did I get the imagine in my mind that it would be the three of us on the road battling baddies and saving goodies? With me throwing up every few miles, and Dean holding my hair, and John trying not to laugh? How did I think that sounded romantic? No. The truth was far easier to accept and understand. They were just going to move along and forget about me. It was in the job description.

But for some reason Dean wouldn't let up.

"Lori I really tried..You don't know how bad I-I fought for you, alright? But my Dad's right. You'd only get hurt with us. Don't you understand?...I can't stand to see you hurt," he sighed, digging the knife in there deep for some kind of sick pleasure. But I wouldn't give in. I kept my eyes steady on my feet and let the ground get all blury until he shouted, "Damn it, Lori!"

His shout tensed my body so suddenly shards of pain trickled in every direction. But no. I wasn't going to give in. I was going to stay strong and wait til I was alone to cry because I'd be damned if I let him get to me again. I had built up the wall and there was no room for any more surprises.

"Say something!" Dean yelled, slamming his fist against the top of the car and forcing the tears I had swallowed back out of my eyes. I turned my face away and at the sun in time to hear his voice soften and crack as he pleaded, "Say anything..please?"

"Alright! Let's move!"

It was John that came to save me from the emotional exchange that no doubt would have occured if I had said what was on my mind at that point. I maybe would have hit Dean and stayed with Dr. Walcott and it ould be over before it had properly ended with me alone in Wyoming. I jumped into the car without saying a word to either men and silently thanking the Lord that John had interupted. I heard them say something to each other but I couldn't make out exactly what it was and I wasn't exactly in the mood to ask.

John put on some Blue Oyster Cult, Burnin' For You I think it was, and flew out of the parking lot and out of the town as if he couldn't wait to get rid of me. I didn't bother putting on my seatbelt because at each turn and sudden stop I had prayed for instant death. I knew I was dramatic but I didn't care, I was pissed as hell. What did they have to rush for? Were they so eager for the new town, the new hunt, the new girl?

I let out a little growl at the thought and I didn't bother to hide it. The music was on so loud any noise I made wouldn't be heard unless someone was playing close attention-which they weren't, something I knew because of Dean's open window that vanished my tears and words. I shut my eyes because of the wind and was thankful for the chance to do so. Some tears had threatened to breach the hold of the corners of my eyes and the closing suffocated them enough for me to get controle. I had years of practice for this kind of bottling up.

But soon enough we were there and that required John to shake me from my sleep and whisper, "Lori, we're here."

I opened my eyes and blinked free the sudden sleep that had come over me. The sun was still up, to my surprise, and Dean was carrying half of my bags into the house while John was out here coaxing me out of my slumber. I stepped out of the car slowly, using his help to get out, and looked at the house, "Is this where I'll be staying?"

"Yup, and don't worry about a thing. We've got it all taken care of," he said before I could ask how much rent was or any of the grown up questions I wasn't really used to.

I nodded my head weakly as I looked over the bare house that looked so empty and unwelcoming. But I guessed it was home. I had no other real choices and it was a house that looked to have more room than I'd know what do with it. I looked to John, who had been studying the house himself, and felt a sense of longing in his presense. If only I had been born under his care, if only he had been my father. I knew I'd be safe and secure and even if I were sick I knew he'd take care of me. And maybe in another life if we had run into Dean who needed saving it would be acceptable for me to stay with him and keep him safe but that was an alternate universe way too far away. The fact of the matter was John was going to leave me and before he did I had to say it. I looked into his eyes as he looked to mine and I said, "Thank you."

He flashed me his handsome Winchester smile as he shook his head, "Don't thank me. This was all Dean's doing."

"Oh," was all I could manage and that seemed to be enough. He left me to grab the rest of the bags and I followed him inside because there was nothing left for me in the outside world. The inside was just as bare as the outside but to my surprise it was much larger than I had expected, I was thankful it was only one floor without even a basement. While Dean and John went back outside I stayed and looked around, moving in a steady circle as I held my hair, what I thought must be the livingroom. I wondered how I would begin to decorate it; I never before had to accomplish that task. I was a fairly simple person, white walls were fine with me, but still. There had to be some kind of design to wake it all up.

I heard the footsteps that meant John and Dean were back and when I glanced at them I saw they were looking at me. John took the opprutunity to explain some things I had concerns about, "Every week you'll get an evelope filled with cash in the mailbox. The cabinets and refrigerator are already full of food and if you run out town is no more than a block away. Your medicine is already here and don't worry about a thing. You're safe."

"Thank you," I shot out quickly. There was something in the way he looked at the ground that made me think he was going to leave right there before I could say it.

But he didn't leave just yet. Instead he added, "There's a security system set up. The codes are on the table."

"Bye," I sighed to his back as he turned to walk out the door.

Instead of returning it he simply smiled, "Take care of yourself."

And with that he was gone, leaving me with Dean and our silence.

I risked a glance at Dean who was staring at the floor. He was as handsome as ever and I thought that was a cruel trick to play since he was going to be leaving me in just a second. He took in a deep breath that must have given him the courage to meet my eye, but as he did I felt my heart pop out of place and I had to look away. I couldn't meet his eye before and I certaintly couldn't do it now. I heard his foot steps and I was sure it was away but suddenly I felt his hand under my chin, burning my skin as he lifted my face up. How could he? I gritted my teeth to keep back the sobs and let my eyes stay focused on the door John had left from. I heard him take in a shaky breath before whispering, "Stay safe."

But I said nothing in return.

His hand fell away and as it did so did my tears but I didn't have to worry-he didn't look back. Instead he shut the door behind him and all I could manage to do was plop myself on the floor and hold my knees against my chest to keep it from falling apart. I bit my lip hard to stop the noises I wanted to make but the tears took on a life of their own and all I could do was cry in anger and shame. I was so stupid, how could I be so stupid? I had lost everything-my aunt, my uncle, John, Dean-and the only thing I could think about were my last words to each person I had lost in my life. The only actual real goodbye was to John but it didn't mean anything because I was so stubborn. My family died and still I hadn't learned my lesson. I never learned anything.

But while I cried a strange thing was happening.

On the road Dean sat with his father in the Impala, his eyes closed and his hand laying flat against his jeans. His thoughts were all his own but from what John could see from the corner of his eyes he suspected that Dean was thinking about me. And later Dean would deny he wasn't thinking, he was remembering. He was remembering my smile, the sparkle in my eye when I laughed, the red in my cheeks when I was angry and how snippy I could be when I was hungry. Like a bear he compared me too, a very hungry bear. He remembered the soft skin of my cheek against his tough hand and the darkness that surrounded me when I refused to look at him. He rememberd most of all how much I must have hated him, and how he didn't fight hard enough.

John on the other hand was remembering someone completely different. As he looked from Dean to the road he was thinking of Mary. He was remembering how she looked at him the day he had bought the Impala and on their first ride around town in it. He was remembering how she had her eyes out the window, just like Dean had his, and at random bumps and mistakes of his she'd turn her head to look at him with a little amused smile. The smile itself, much like any of her smiles, was haunting in the secrets that were behind it. Although contagious it brought about the kind of disaster that made John's knees weak and sudden-stops frequent. It was beautiful. And it then reminded him of Dean.

It reminded him of how Dean would look at me when I said something amusing or when I guessed a correct answer or use to something they had in their arsenol. It reminded him of how Dean laughed when he was around me and how in the middle of the night, those few nights, he would wake up from slumber to see if I was still breathing. It was something Mary had done very often with him and then with the kids when they had been born. It was wonderful but then it was gone.

Dean meanwhile had his head against the seat and his eyes shut. While John was remembering good Dean was trying not to remember horrible. The way I looked when I was crying and the shudder that ran through me the last time he touched my face. He tried not to notice that I looked like I wanted to die. He tried to ignore the weight on him that gathered with every mile they drove away and instead he repeated the mantra 'It's for the best' in his mind.

It was.

And it was John's idea, something that brought a heavy weight of guilt on his shoulders. As they left the town he thought to himself, what if it was the one. What if it was Dean's true love and John was pulling Dean away. He didn't want to live with that but the thought of seeing me in the middle of action was unbearable itself. He didn't want to see Dean turn into the empty man that he was, he wanted more for his son.

And with that realization he made a sudden turn into the nearest motel. Immediantly Dean's eyes popped open with alarm, searching for a threat but when none was found he asked, "What are we doing here?"

John didn't answer just yet. Instead he parked the Impala and jumped out of the driver's seat as if he were ready to jump into a fight. He walked to the back, not waiting for Dean to join him, and popped open the trunk. He grabbed a bag and shoved into it somethings he knew he'd need, somethings that were always useful and then walked to Dean who stood at the hood of the car.

Dean leaned against it in disbelief, feeling hope swell in his chest but not wanting to feel bitter disappointment if his thoughts weren't true. He looked at his father, the man he admired and respected, the man that had raised him to be a fighter, a protector, a man, the man he hoped to be. He looked at John and who looked at Dean and saw himself on the outside but Mary on the in. Something he hadn't seen in a while.

There was no exchange of words as John handed threw the keys to Dean who caught them in one hand. Dean felt a wide smile form across his lips as he asked, "What are you gonna do?"

"Bobby has this new truck I think I wanna win in a poker game," John answered with a smile that had no weight on it, a smile that Dean hadn't seen in years.

"Thanks, Dad," Dean managed to get out before the frog in his throat made his voice weak.

John smirked, shaking his head as he walked up onto the curb, "Don't thank me yet. Nevada. Two weeks. I'll see you there."

Dean nodded his head in return, "Yes, sir," before jumping into the Impala and gunning it all the way back. He payed no mine to stop signs, red lights didn't exist. All that mattered was what would be waiting for him when he returned.

Me.

When he made it to my new house he turned off the Impala and left it in the front. He suddenly felt panic because he had returned empty-handed, not thinking to stop somewhere and get flowers. But to his relief the neighbors yard had a rose bush where he was able to get twelve roses without worrying about the thorns that stuck into his fingertips. And when he had collected it all he jogged up the steps with a nervous joy that he had never felt in all his life. He rang the doorbell and waited for my response.

But when the door bell had rung I had just gotten over my crying spell and had been working on making myself a cup of hot cocoa, something my aunt had always made me to feel better. The aromas that brought back memories along with the realization that I would never have Dean again made me bitter and unhappy. So when the doorbell rang I was too miserable to find any optimism in it. I had thought, who in the world would ring my doorbell? How dare they ring the door of someone that was dying?

Another ring.

At that moment I had become angered. I shut off the stove and stormed to the door, intent on unleashing my anger and sorrows on whoever dared to awaken me. But when I ripped open the door my mouth and my tears and my anger fell as he managed to lift me up against him.

Dean crushed me against him and I crushed his head against my chest, ignoring the pain that screamed for Dean to let go. But I couldn't let him do that. I sobbed out loud and felt my rubs ache but the pain was a comforting fact that he was real and he had really come back. There was no chance I was going to wiggle out of this embrace. But suddenly Dean's face pulled away and he lowered me to the floor and I cried a whisper, "No," because I thought maybe that was it. Maybe John was waiting in the car and this was all he would give me.

But his hands suddenly grabbed my face, his wonderful calloused hands, and held it in place as my eyes met his. He wipped my tears quickly, and gently, and I tried to clear his wet face but I couldn't work my arms around his muscles and he laughed weakly-giving me the little smile that I loved so much.

And then...

he kissed me.

For the first time, the first real time, he kissed me and my heart exploded into my chest and and sent shards on the floor to keep company with the tossed away roses. His lips against mine were smooth but rough in their action and I kissed him back the same way as if he were going to disappear in front of me. And although I was so happy I couldn't help but to cry tears of joy and happiness because in that second, that little second, I knew it.

I loved him.

And I always would.

The door bell suddenly rang, awakening me from the moment I wished was all mine again and again. As I sat up slowly everything began to creep in and I heard the phone ringing loudly and battling the doorbell for my attention. I tried to get up but I was feeling dizzy from my sudden movement and my hand was slipping into the wet puddle over Texas I had made with my slobber and my tears. I wipped at my face and suddenly felt another round of telephone and doorbell and then my heart got into it.

I remembered suddenly what Dean and John had mentioned about electrical malfunctions that could be caused by some kind of baddie...especially at night. I pulled out of the corner of the room a gun I had hid beneath a floorboard for emergencies. I cocked it and slowly began to walk through the house, using the noise to cover any sound I would make. I glanced at the clock on the oven: 11:43.

Too late for visitors.

I unlocked the door and slowly began to open it as the answer machine suddenly picked up but suddenly the door was pulled from my grin and my gun fell to the floor and I was in the air without missing a beat, jumping into the arms of noneotherthan my Dean Winchester.

I held onto Dean's face between both of mine so tight and kissed and kissed at his face and his head and his lips and his nose and his skin and his chin and everything that I could as his arms tightened around we with no fear of hurting me. We crushed into each other so hard we created one person in the process with him kissing me and me kissing him and my tears pouring out in every direction.

We didn't bother with the voice on the machine and I didn't bother to get a better footing as I wrapped my legs around his waist and he didn't bother to stop kissing me as he shut the door behind him with one foot. And the gun and the roses? His heavy boots crushed the petals on our way to the bedroom and for the first time, in a long time, I was alive again.

I was with Dean.