After cleaning up dinner, playing with toys for a few hours straight, and a bath time that Lizzy opted out of participating in as she felt she needed more time to get to know her own son first, it's bedtime.

"L, come here!" she hears Dean call from Sammy's room as she sits with a laptop open at the kitchen table. She's been out of the real world for over a year and has so much to learn about what's happened while she was gone.

Getting up, Lizzy walks for the back bedroom and catches her boys picking through a pile of roughly seven books.

"What one you want?" Dean asks, holding out two books in particular. 'Fox in Sox' and 'Cool Cars'. Lizzy just smiles.

"Dat one," Sammy says, pointing to the Seuss book.

"Alright, let's do this," Dean says, stacking the rest of the books on the dresser in the room. "In bed, bud."

Dean then looks at Lizzy with a smile. He holds the book of choice out for her to take.

"Me?" she asks with sheer surprise.

"Why not?" Dean wonders with an innocent shrug.

"He doesn't… he's barely gotten used to me," Lizzy explains quietly, watching Sammy try to climb up into his bed unsuccessfully. She goes on autopilot and helps him, picking him up from behind under his arms and placing him atop the mattress. "Isn't that a little fast?"

"Mommy?" Sammy says her name and she can instantly feel her insides melt into a puddle of absolute adoration.

"Yeah, sweetie?" she answers quietly back, still floored by hearing him say just that word. Mommy.

"You read my book?" he asks, pointing to the book in his father's hands.

Wide eyes, Lizzy sharply looks over to Dean. He just cocks his eyebrow with a smug, I-told-you-so look, handing her the book once more. She takes it from him and can't really believe this is happening. Her son wants her to read the bedtime story. She just got back this afternoon and Sammy, her big hearted Sammy, already is trusting her.

It's too much. She's choked up.

"Mommy!" Sammy's voice cuts through the cloud of emotion and Lizzy looks to him. He points to the spot next to him against the headboard. "You sit here."

"I'd love to," Lizzy tells him as she walks over and climbs in. She settles against the headboard where he showed her and opens up the old classic, looking at the pages of cartoonish characters that bring her back to her own childhood. She clears her throat to speak clearly enough. "Fox. Socks. Box. Knox. Knox in box. Fox in socks."

As she turns the page she feels the tiny form next to her move closer. When she looks down she watches Sammy sitting pressed against her side in his footie pajamas, the Patriots teddy bear, the one Dean clearly replaced for him over the past year after losing his original one in the fire at Bobby's, in a tight headlock. His head slumps into her upper arm and she once more, for possibly the billionth time, has to do everything to keep from crying in the moment.

Lizzy clears her voice one more time. "Knox on fox in socks in box. Sock on Knox and Knox in box. Fox in sock on box on Knox."

"Why fox wear socks?" Sammy asks her, looking up with his bright green eyes.

"Oh, uh…" she starts, caught off guard. "I bet his feet are cold."

"No," Sammy simply answers.

"Oh no?" Lizzy wonders, surprised by how sure he is about the fictional fox's feet not being cold.

"Nope," Dean smirks as he settles at the end of the mattress. "It's because his feet smell gross. Like, worst feet ever."

"Stinky feet!" Sammy giggles loudly and leans a little harder into her side.

Lizzy's face lights up as Sammy loses it over something so silly. Clearly this is something Sammy and Dean joke about every time they read this book. And every single time it's just as hilarious as the last time.

"Ew," Lizzy scrunches up her nose. "Stinky feet!?"

"Fox stinky feet, mommy!" Sammy says, pointing to the fox's feet on the page and collapsing into more giggles.

It's contagious. Before she knows it her cheek breaking smile turns into full blown laughing right along with him.

And for the first time ever, Dean sees it. Sammy did not really get anything in the looks department from his mother, which to him is a massive shame. However, as the two of them sit side by side in bed, book open and breaking down with a serious case of the gigs, Dean sees that there is plenty of his wife in Sammy. Their smile, for one, is exactly the same. All teeth and wide open, happier than anything and enjoying the small moments in life to its fullest. Lizzy has always been a happy, goofy, ready to laugh person even through everything they've experienced. Sammy is the same. He's young, happy, carefree, and exactly like his mother where it counts.

"Mommy, why he wear socks?" Sammy asks again, looking to get the whole joke going again once he's composed himself a little.

The way he looks up at her with hopeful eyes makes Lizzy give in. "Because his feet are so stinky!" she tells him with a big, wide, goofy grin.

And it works. He collapses again over the absolutely silly detail.

Lizzy follows right along.

This time Dean can't help it. He just sits by, letting Lizzy have this moment with their son that she's waited so long and fought so hard to get back to. Dean's had months over months to read to his son and be the thing that made him laugh. He's more than willing to give her that for the rest of Sammy's childhood now that she's back.

She's clearly earned it.

"I think it's time we moved," Dean very quietly says to Lizzy as he's still sitting at the foot of the bed a half an hour later.

Lizzy doesn't peel her eyes off of her boy even when Dean speaks up. She can't. He fell asleep right where he was as they read, his head leaning hard into her side as she has an arm around his little shoulders. She keeps a hand in his dark brown hair, rubbing gently as she sits in awe of the little man.

"Lizzy?" Dean tries again. This time she looks up. "I know you wanna stay but letting him sleep like that will make him a grouchy little shit by morning. Trust me, you don't want that."

"I don't want to let him go," Lizzy says, ducking down to kiss his forehead, her sweet boy absolutely out of it.

"You're not," Dean smirks. "You're just letting him sleep for a few hours alone. Come on." He nods for the book and she hands it over. Dean places it in the book pile he has going on the dresser before walking to stand next to her. "Alright, take it slow."

After some calculated moves, Dean helps Lizzy stand up out of Sammy's bed and gets his son tucked in without issue. Sammy's a hard sleeper.

She follows him to the door of the room and leaves, pausing in the doorway to peek back at her boy. She can't stop looking at him. He's perfect.

Dean closes the door halfway and reaches around the wall to the plugged in nightlight by the floor. He switches it on and backs away.

"Can you believe we did that?" Lizzy asks him, still shocked at what their love made.

"Ah, no," Dean huffs a laugh. "Not really."

She sighs. "God, he's such a great kid." Lizzy locks eyes with him. "Dean, you did such a good job with him."

"I didn't do jack. He's just a good kid."

"No. Dean. You did everything," Lizzy corrects. "You were both mom and dad. You were his everything for over a year while I was gone. I mean, you did what your own father couldn't do. Dean… I'm so proud of you, ha." She laughs a little at the end. "I hope that didn't sound patronizing or anything."

Dean's face wrinkles for just a moment. "It didn't."

"Good," she nods, looking back into the room at her sleeping child, the child she did everything to get back to. "Damnit, he's amazing."

"Right?" Dean agrees easily, standing next to her.

"He's smart. He's sweet. Oh my god, I love him so fucking much. I'm so happy to be here."

"Alright, let's go," Dean tells her the moment the tears start. He pulls an arm around her shoulders and starts to move for the couch in the cabin. They settle there, Dean pulling her close as she cries yet again. "L, everything's working out. Everything is okay."

"I know," she sobs into his shirt and pulls him even tighter. "I'm not even sure why I'm crying this time."

Dean gets a kind laugh out of that. "It's a lot to deal with. I get it."

"Know you do," she says, her chin on his shoulder as she fists her hands into his flannel shirt. "I just love you both so much."

"And we love you too," Dean assures her, hugging harder with his arms around her back. "L, I…." He pauses. "I don't think… there aren't words. I just… without you…."

That's as far as he gets before the press of perfect lips are against his, ending his struggle to explain the hole she left in his life and the incredible joy and relief he feels now that she's back. Words aren't his forte, even after a year of single-dad-dome. Lizzy knows this, she's always understood this.

"Dean, I know," she tells him through rushed words in between kisses. "I know." She grabs his face and kisses him harder. "It was awful." She can't keep her lips off of him. "It killed me a little more every damn day."

"Me too," Dean rushes out and grabs her hips and pulls her swiftly into his lap, the emotional moment spilling over into something else, something they both just couldn't hold back. They never were dying for each other throughout the day. Sammy's presence and the need to settle into a family again trumped the sexual need. But now? Sammy's asleep, Dean is trying to bare his soul as best he can, and Lizzy can't figure out how she kept her need at bay anymore.

Lizzy grabs the sides of his neck hard and practically devours his mouth with clear desperation. She forgot how good this was, how pure it felt to just simply be with the one man she loves so hard she never thought possible until Dean walked unexpectedly into her life years ago. The fighting and constant terror of Purgatory kept her preoccupied enough that she never had time to even think about this so much.

But watching Dean all day, caring for their son and being nothing short of the perfect father she always knew he was all while wearing an old, just right pair of worn jeans and a faded Chevy t-shirt that was just this side of tight around his shoulders, chest, and arms… there is no better turn on than that. There just isn't.

Fingers in her hair as her chest presses flush against his, Lizzy gives with a hardened touch, something primal underneath the softness she's shown her son all day long. Dean gets that softness from her too, the love and care he's been devoid of his whole life that she provides him with copiously and readily, but he always gets more than that. He gets all of her, the ugly along with the beautiful and the painful with the perfection… and he's not sure which part of her it is that she's sharing right now. He wasn't ready for rushed movements and harsh fingers that dig into the skin of his neck but that's what she gives. That's what she has to give in the moment.

When she bites at his bottom lip, not hard enough to leave a lasting pain, he knows this is new. Of all the years they've had together this was never the way Lizzy approached physicality with him. She was warm and loving, fast and needy, sometimes extremely submissive and placating… but never really this.

"Need you," Lizzy quickly grunts out without grace as she tears her long sleeved thermal shirt over her own head. "Now."

"Upstairs," Dean says and tries to get up, Lizzy stopping him with the strong press of two hands open on his chest. He looks up at her with surprise, her strength unexpected.

"No," she tells him as she crushes another rough kiss to his mouth. "Now. Here."

Dean kisses her back for a moment as his mind tries to understand her right now. She went from crying to sex-driven in a matter of seconds and her demeanor is all new to him. Once he's composed his thoughts, he pulls her gently away from the embrace as she's still straddling his lap. He looks at her confused and impatient expression and explains himself. "I don't wanna wake Sammy. It's been… so long. We don't need any interruptions, okay?"

She flashes a slightly angry look at him for his insistence. She's no longer accustomed to not being the one to make decisions and direct how things went down. But then she remembers who it is she's looking at. Green eyes filled with hope and some serious confusion over her conduct remind her that this is Dean. Her Dean, the man that would never do anything unless it was the right move concerning his family and their wellbeing. She knows he's just doing what's best to keep their son resting peacefully and give them some time alone, some very much needed time alone.

Without verbally answering first, Lizzy presses one more fast, hard kiss to his lips before she climbs off of him. She eyes him carnally once as he sits there a moment, knowing she has to have him, and she easily consents. "Let's go."

The directive is hard, unflinching, and it makes Dean feel like he has no choice in the matter. He knows that tone. He grew up with a very similar tone, one he had no choice but to listen to and respond with a resounding 'yes, sir' at all times. He's never heard that tone from her before.

She's different. It's very uncomfortable. Even if she was her old self all day, calm and loving as ever when Sammy was around, she's showing her true colors to him right now. She's not the same and he has to wonder what Purgatory has done to her.

But more than that, he needs her right now. He knows it to be true as he watches her start to open the button and fly of her jeans as she walks away from him for the stairs. The only thing that can trump his curiosities about her wellbeing is his pure sexual need for her. Hell, it's been over a damn year since he's had any sex at all. He's in desperate need.

Like a puppy wanting to please, Dean follows her quickly, only stopping to peek in that Sammy's soundly out first. He pulls the door a little more closed and quietly makes his way to the second floor bedroom he and Lizzy have always shared while at Rufus' cabin.

The second he takes just one step into the room he's being grabbed hard by the open edges of his flannel shirt.

"Whoa," Dean says with a voice that's one part shocked and three parts calming. He looks down to Lizzy, her grip hard on his clothing as she peels the layer off of him with haste. She's only wearing her bra and panties at this point, pants, socks and boots gone. "L, we have time."

"Don't care," she tells him, lips on his again as she drops the flannel and reaches for the bottom of his t-shirt. She begins to pull it up off of him as she tells him, "Need you now."

"Okay, hey," Dean stops her, pulling the hem of his shirt back down as a concerned face looks back at her. "Stop for a second."

"Why!?" Lizzy wants to know, sure of the fact that he's also dying to get her naked.

"Because… you're kinda freakin' me out here," he admits through a fake half laugh. He grabs her hand and pulls her slowly to the bed, sitting on it and patting the spot next to him for her to take. She doesn't listen.

"I just missed you," she tells him, using her free hand to cup his jaw and press a kinder, slower kiss to his lips. "And I'm desperate. It's been over a year…."

"Yeah, I know," Dean emphasizes with wide eyes and she laughs, slowing her role as he clearly needs her to in the moment. "But… you're not acting like you."

"Who am I acting like?" she wonders, her voice never losing the sultry sound to it. She once more straddles his lap with a knee to either side of his hips. Hands on his shoulders, she waits patiently while using every ounce of control she has in her.

"I don't know," Dean tells her, hands on her hips soothingly, thumbs rubbing sweet circles on her skin just above her panties on either side. "I mean, I'm not expecting you to be exactly the same as before you… left."

"So what's the problem?" Lizzy asks him, a light kiss pressed to his mouth as she does her best to seduce the man into shutting up and giving her what she needs right now.

"I just… maybe we shouldn't do this?" Dean suggests in a very cautious manner.

"You nuts?" Lizzy scoffs, kissing his cheek, then his jaw.

"I know what I'm saying," Dean assures her, hands sliding to her back as he keeps her close, her lips landing on his neck and making this conversation harder to have. "But we don't need to rush anything here. If you need more time…."

Lizzy groans with annoyance into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Lifting her head, she gives him a solid eye roll. "Time isn't what I need, Dean."

Dean blinks once. "What do you need then? Anything."

She grins, the animalistic tinge to it making Dean worry a little more. "I need you to get naked, shut up, and enjoy." She nods, smirking with an arched eyebrow as her arms come around his neck.

Lizzy can literally feel the hesitation rolling off of him.

"Hot Shot, I'm fine," she promises, scooting the last half an inch closer. She then reaches behind herself to unhook her bra. "I swear. I wouldn't lie to you."

She opens her bra and Dean watches her pull it away, leaving her topless. He inhales and sighs shakily, resolve quickly weakening with the view of her breasts, his desire for this one woman absolutely kicking into overdrive. Lizzy sure knows how to play him.

"I want you," Lizzy keeps going, pressing her chest to his as Dean's hands slide up her smooth, bare back. "You want me. It's easy, just like always."

Slowly and lovingly, Lizzy brings her lips to his again. She leaves the swift pace and hard movements out of it this time, choosing a more stealthy approach. Dean kisses her back, the man she remembers as the overly romantic, incredibly in tune and always quite passionate lover ever present in the moment. As her hand combs through the short hair at the back of his head she can feel the tension in his form slowly receding, seeing that it's still her and it's still alright.

"Baby?" Lizzy asks, lips still pressed to his.

"Mm?" Dean asks, the best he can do as he refuses to stop kissing her.

"Love me," she requests, her voice filled with want.

Dean would never say no to that.

Pulling her tightly, Dean kisses her harder, something finally snapping and letting him go freely. He doesn't stay hesitant.

And when Lizzy knows this, she smiles against his lips.

When Dean's back hits the mattress hard after Lizzy shoves him suddenly in the chest, he once more looks up at her with wide eyes and concern.

"I've waited a whole fucking year for this," Lizzy smirks at him as she's perched on his hips before pouncing.

When it's all said and done Dean's left lying on his back, staring at the old cabin ceiling with his heart pounding.

What the hell just happened?

It's almost a blur from the moment Lizzy decided she was getting what she wanted no matter what. Her hands hard and everywhere, her mouth bruising, her entire body sharp and too strong… Jesus, who is she?

He feels Lizzy getting up off the mattress next to him and looks over. She has a calm face on, a real one, and it's the first time she's looked quite like this since she arrived. Her shoulders have dropped a bit, her stance is less agitated and ever ready, and she's starting to look like old Lizzy… minus the new scars and the incredibly defined muscle tone. She was always strong but now? She's down right intimidating.

In fact, as Dean looks down at himself and can see the already forming bruises on his biceps and chest, Lizzy might be stronger than even she knows at this point.

This wasn't what he wanted. Well, that's not exactly true. Dean always wants sex from his wife. Always. But this was too much. It was harsh, painfully so at points, and even if in the moment he was down and completely participating, even enjoying very much, he's now extremely worried.

Lizzy's always been the one to yield to him. That's just a simple dynamic of who they are. He likes to have control of the situation, Lizzy loves to give him that control.

Not now. Lizzy steered every movement, every moment of that whole encounter and it has him nervous. It's not like they've never switched it up before. Lizzy's been the one in charge in bed every now and then… but this felt different. And she was never one to mark him up before. Hell, neither ever dared do that before now. They get beat up and hurt enough outside of their personal lives. No need to add that into their more intimate moments.

But he saw it the second she got out of that beat up junker in the driveway. She's different. And not in a good way.

"Fuck, I needed that so bad," Lizzy huffs a relaxed laugh as she grabs Dean's flannel off the floor. She slings it over her shoulders and casually puts it on to cover up a bit, obviously unaffected in any negative way by what just happened between them. "I feel… good."

"Yeah?" Dean cautiously asks, sitting up against the headboard as he pulls the bedsheet over his lap.

"Hell yeah!" Lizzy half giggles as she buttons the shirt closed. She then shakes out her terrible half blonde and half brunette hair as she checks him out. "Mm, I really missed that body of yours, Hot Shot."

"Yeah… I could tell," he says, his tone off and Lizzy catches it.

"You alright?" Lizzy wonders, stopping at the foot of the bed and sitting down by his covered feet.

Dean pauses, unsure if he should bother mentioning it right this second. Maybe it was just a moment in time that she needed. Maybe Purgatory made her different and it'll take time to adjust. She sure seems better after having sex, all be it rougher sex than they are normally used to, so maybe he should just go with it for now. He'd do anything for her and if that made her feel better than who is he to bring her down with airing possibly unfounded concerns.

"I'm good," Dean lies right to her, hoping he's better at lying than before she went to Purgatory. She always can tell.

Her eyes narrow. "You sure?"

He grins away his worries for now. "Very."

She stops, still evaluating his face for anything that might give away his true feelings in the moment.

"Even better when I get to see you wearing my shirt and nothing else," Dean mentions, moving on past the odd moment. "Forgot how good you looked in my clothes."

"No you didn't," she smirks, knowing he hadn't at all.

"Nah, I didn't," he smiles almost bashfully. "But it's good to see again… you know, instead of in my crappy memories."

Lizzy's heart grows with that, Dean being the ever sweet husband under the grime and grit of the hunter he was raised to be. She loves that about him.

Moved by his words, Lizzy crawls up the bed and onto Dean. She returns to the loving person Lizzy has always been with him, kissing him sweetly as she melts against him. And Dean sighs, happy to have her back.

"You're still sweet," Lizzy tells him, kissing him again.

"Shh," Dean hushes her, hating when he's called that.

"Don't shush me," Lizzy jokingly complains. She then gives him one last kiss on the lips and one more peck to the cheek. "I need a shower."

"Yeah, you smell," he ribs a bit and she does her usual punch to his arm. "Damn!" Dean says and grabs his arm.

"Ooh, sorry!" Lizzy apologizes. "I forget that… you know… I'm kinda stronger these days."

"You don't say," Dean bitches lightly, gesturing to his arm.

"You'll survive," Lizzy smiles, kissing him before getting out of bed. "Is the water pressure still shit here?"

"Um, nah," Den answers, watching her pick up her backpack she showed up with. "I fixed it the other day. Good pressure. Warm water. The whole nine."

She grins with excitement. "Thank you."

Dean shrugs. "Just bored while waiting for you to get here."

Lizzy winks and disappears out the door, excited for a real shower. The first one she took after getting back was in a motel room she broke into in the middle of the night. After returning and figuring out she was in Maine and nowhere near Montana she had to get her shit together. She took a shower, stole some clean clothes from the full washer and dryer in the motel complex, and took a couple hour nap before stealing a car and heading for Louisiana.

Once done with her big chore down south, she booked to Montana with a one night stop to grab a second shower and a very quick nap. But two showers in a week isn't going to be enough to sleep through the night comfortably.

Stopping to stare at her sleeping son once more, never quite able to get enough of that precious little face, Lizzy finally makes it to the bathroom. Pulling the chain on the ceiling light, the room brightens and she drops her bag on the closed toilet seat. She then turns on the shower and waits for the water to warm up while pulling off Dean's shirt.

And then the reflection in the mirror catches her. She has to stare a moment as she hasn't really looked at herself in so long. A year of only water reflections to view herself followed by the last week in which she was too busy to bother with mirrors and Lizzy now has to wonder why Dean never really freaked out at her appearance.

That's not Lizzy. It's not. That's a stranger looking back at her.

Her face is thinned and overly tan with the year out in the exposure of nature. Her hair that was fried fake blonde when she went to Purgatory (she was still hiding from the Leviathan back then) is only blonde on the long ends now. From her shoulders to her mid back it's that terrible yellow and frizzed with damage. From just above her shoulders and up it's the dark brown color she was born with, the same color Sammy has.

And her skin. She has scars, the one on her side the worst of them all.

She's all lean muscle. Hell, she looks like those housewives that got bored at home and threw themselves into fitness… and then went a little too far and are almost bordering on too muscular.

She's not exactly enjoying all that she sees. She needs to eat more, work out less, and maybe get some scar-reducing products. All these things will take time, but there's one thing she can do right now to start the process out right.

Checking the medicine cabinet, Lizzy's overjoyed to find a pair of scissors that are still quite sharp.

Dried off, hair shorter and damp, and dressed in an oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts, Lizzy finally makes her way back up to the bedroom.

It was a long shower and she knows she killed all the hot water there was. Luckily no one was waiting to head in after her. But it takes a long time to get a person back into normal-human-race appearance wise after a year and some months of being out of it. She hopes Dean doesn't mind that she used his razor to rid herself of overgrowth everywhere. She laughed when she looked down at her, what could only be labeled at this point as, huge bush. Dean never mentioned a thing during their moment together but she knows how bad it is. She never let that happen before Purgatory and she'll never let it happen again.

Smooth skin all over, a new haircut, and the smell of fresh soap gives Lizzy a new confidence. Even if internally she knows she has a lot of work to do, at least externally she can pretend to belong again.

Another peek at Sammy who hasn't moved at all since he first was tucked in and she's up the stairs.

She stops in the doorway and sees a very similar scene in front of her that she just peeked in at on the first floor. Dean. Her husband is fast asleep, the blankets over him as his bare arm rests over the edge of the covers. He's not sleeping in his jeans and jacket, boots on. He in the sheets, shirtless and comfortable. And there's just something about him right now. He's so self-assured, more than he has been ever in their lives together, and he's in a very good place. He's a father first, he's a reliable and loving man, and she's truly felt that whole puppy love, head over heels thing all day being around him.

She's fallen in love with him all over again and she couldn't be happier to see him like this. This is exactly the man Dean was always supposed to be but never had the chance to be until recently.

Lizzy wipes her eyes quickly before heading into the room. She drops her backpack she stole from an unsuspecting couple camping in the deep Maine woods and picks up her old, dirty clothes she arrived in.

Ill-fitting and ganked, she knows she's lucky Dean brought her old duffle with him and gave it back. She has something to wear tomorrow. She heads for the trash can in the room to toss the old clothes but pauses. She reaches into the back pocket of the jeans and pulls out the old, torn, and truly worn out picture in it. The Christmas picture, the one taken with Santa the day before she disappeared from her boys' lives, was her life line for fifteen months, always reminding her why she got back up after very knock down in Purgatory. This very object saved her life.

She places the picture on the dresser gently before throwing out the clothing.

Lizzy then makes her way to the bed. Dean, being the thoughtful man that he is, made sure to fall asleep on one side of the mattress and leave room for her. Slowly, Lizzy eases into bed and lays down. Dean instinctually reaches out and hooks an arm around her waist, pulling her close as if it hasn't been fifteen months since they've shared a bed together.

And Lizzy lets him. No, it isn't actually the most comfortable thing anymore to be held like this as her instincts tell her to be free and ready at a moment's notice, but she lets it happen anyways.

Nothing's coming for them. They're in a secure and warded house. The Leviathan aren't out to get them anymore. They aren't in the middle of endless forest with no good hiding places. She's safe and she keeps reminding herself of that.

So Lizzy does what she can. She places her arm over his, locks their fingers together, and exhales to relax.

"I missed this," Dean mutters into her hair, still half asleep.

"Me too," Lizzy honestly responds as she tries to remember how to calm down and enjoy this lovely, quiet, and close moment despite her overly alert mind and recent lack of human interaction and contact.

This might be harder than she anticipated it to be.

It's the middle of the night. In the middle of nowhere. Nothing moving. Rural. It's silent.

Somehow Lizzy managed to drift off after far too much time laying there, listening for sounds and unwelcomed intrusions as is habit at this point. She's used to the too quiet times meaning something isn't right, something is on them. But the near week of going without stop while back in the real world has taken its toll on her. She's resting.

Until she hears it.

A car coming up to the cabin. The engine is quiet, clearly the car is moving slowly, but Lizzy doesn't miss a single sound these days. Ever.

Silently, almost without detectable movement, Lizzy tries to slide out from under Dean's arm to check out the sound. Dean stirs easily.

"L?" Dean grumbles in his sleepy tone, barely awake.

"Bathroom," she lies and sits up, getting out from under the covers. "Be right back."

"Mm… 'kay," Dean says and is back out in a split second. Clearly the year off helped him a lot. He's an actual sleeper these days.

Lizzy swiftly and silently makes her way to the first floor. She creeps to the window and looks out just in time to see the tail lights of a car head down their driveway. The car make and model couldn't be made out in the dark, the license plate a mystery too, but the idea that someone would be driving up to the cabin in the middle of the night is unnerving to say the least.

The car pauses and the door opens. Lizzy squints to get a better look but is quickly blinded when a flashlight beam is flashed into her face. She shields her eyes as the light stays there.

"What the… fuck?" she whispers, walking away from the window to reach the door. She yanks it open, intent on asking who the hell it is that's visiting her family in the middle of the night but the car drives away, gravel kicking up under tires as it peels out.

This is very unsettling.

Without thought, Lizzy rushes back into the house and to the basement. She grabs the big sack of rock salt and the couple cans of spray paint stored there and hauls it all back up. She lines every door and window with salt, thicker lines across the two windows in Sammy's room, and marks some sigils she could remember on the walls and floor, refreshing the old ones that Dean never redid when coming back here with Sammy.

Once satisfied, Lizzy heads back into the basement. She noticed throughout the day that minimal weapons and defense mechanisms were around the cabin. It was worrisome. So Lizzy grabs knives of all kinds and starts hiding them around the cabin. A drawer here, in a vase there, only places out of reach for Sammy… at least they're ready.

Taking one more blade with her, this one in a leather sheath, and some holy water, Lizzy heads back to bed. As she settles in, Dean once more with an arm around her middle, she slips the blade into her pillowcase underneath.

"Better?" Dean asks.

"Yeah… uh, baby?" Lizzy starts keeping her tone quiet.

"Mm?" Dean hums his question.

"You weren't… followed up here or anything, were you?"

Dean's entire form goes ridged with the question. When she looks over to her side he's already looking at her, eye lids fully lifted. "Why do you ask that?"

"I think… someone just drove up to check out the place," Lizzy says with concern. "I saw someone park out front. They got out and checked the place with a flashlight, like they were looking for something. By the time I got outside they were peeling out."

"All they did was check out the place?" Dean wonders, trying to get the story straight.

"Yeah… but it felt weird," Lizzy admits.

"Did it feel weird like hunting, Spidey-sense weird… or weird like you've been in Purgatory for a long time weird?" Dean has to wonder, making sure she isn't overreacting.

Her face drops into anger.

"Don't get mad at me for asking. Whatever answer you give I'll go with you," Dean swears to her with a calm, loving tone. He even pulls her closer as she lays on her back, arm tighter around her waist.

"I don't know," Lizzy admits as she thinks it through logically. It could have been anyone coming up here. The cabins all are remote, maybe someone couldn't find the right one. Hell, even she's had a hard time finding the place after being there a handful of times. She probably overreacted. Sitting up, back slouched, Lizzy sighs. "I… maybe I don't know anything anymore."

"Don't say that," Dean tells her, sitting up also to kiss her cheek. "It'll be an adjustment."

"A big one."

"Yeah, a big one, but you'll be fine. I promise." Dean kisses her again and pulls her gently back until they're laying down, settling in closely to each other.

"Yeah," Lizzy says, hoping he's right despite her concerns. She leans her head against his, Dean's face curled into her neck, and she looks at the ceiling. "I warded the place like a psycho."

Dean just lets out a small, rough chuckle against her skin with the embarrassed confession. "Is it a mess down there?"

"Maybe."

"It's fine," Dean tells her, his lips briefly landing on her neck before settling in again. "It can't hurt, right?"

"Nope," Lizzy tells him. "Especially since you didn't do any warding whatsoever."

"Didn't need it," Dean sleepily answer.

And that was the difference. Lizzy assumes it's all out to get them still. Dean's felt the luxury of assuming he's safe.

Lizzy lies awake for a while after this, trying to figure out how they are going to meet in the middle.