June 16th, 2005

The next morning dawned bright and early, but for once Lorelai didn't mind being roused from her slumber. She refused to consider that it had anything to do with the fact that she'd sorely missed waking up in Dean's arms, or that, after reuniting, she'd slept better than she had in weeks. She reasoned that, if anything, it was being back on the road that had her at ease.

They grabbed coffee on their way to Harborview Towers, and breakfast sandwiches while they were at it, and by the time Lorelai was crossing the threshold of the apartment belonging to the late Mia Santos she was fully caffeinated and ready to go. Dean lingered at the door, thanking the maintenance man for bringing them up while Lorelai gazed around the scene, absentmindedly reaching into her pockets for gloves.

Dean hadn't been embellishing when he'd described the scene the night before, but Lorelai had seen far worse and found herself scanning over the space on autopilot. There weren't any blank spaces in the stretch of wall that had been misted in blood, supporting the theory that whatever was behind the killing wasn't corporeal. The spatter was everywhere though, sans the outer wall of the kitchen and the counter lining it, and she guessed from some of the denser spots that there had been some chunks of tissue and other organic matter the actual crime scene techs had already collected.

"Lor, what are you doing?" Dean chuckled. Lorelai turned, confused, and found him leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"What?" she asked, brow furrowed.

"We're not actually FBI," he pointed out nodding towards her hands. She'd already pulled gloves on them and had been in the process of untangling a pair of disposable shoe covers.

Fuck. Not even an hour in and you're slipping up. This is going great, the voice in her head taunted. Cheeks flushing, Lorelai quickly shook her head and began pulling the gloves back off.

"Right," she muttered. "Sorry, need a second cup of coffee."

Dean snorted and followed her deeper into the apartment. She could feel his gaze on her but didn't pay him any mind. They hadn't worked together before – the werewolf didn't count if you asked her – and she fully expected he'd want to vet her, even if thought he was being subtle about it. Luckily for her, she was in her element when she was working.

"What are the cops trying to call this?" she asked, crouching down to inspect some of the goop that had dried onto the carpet.

"The cops don't know shit. They're callin' it an 'accident' and keeping it as quiet as possible. Assholes don't know what they're doing." Lorelai tended to share his opinion of Muggle law enforcement and made a face, nodding her agreement.

"Did you get in to see the body?" Dean nodded and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out photos.

"Yep. It's like her chest fucking exploded."

It was a crude but accurate description, Lorelai noted when she stood to glance at the photos Dean laid on the island. The woman's head, neck and shoulders were intact, no damage, and from her hips down were the same, arms were okay too… but it was as though the front of her torso had exploded from the inside out, leaving the front of her midsection nothing more than a gaping, frayed hole. Lorelai frowned and continued walking the apartment, looking for anything out of place.

The ectoplasm Dean had mentioned was easy enough to find on her own, and it was when she crouched down to get a better look at the surface of the coffee table, where it had pooled on the corner, that she had her first break.

"What's that?" Dean asked when she pulled a small vial out of her own pocket. She smiled up at him and uncorked it, carefully and slowly tapping out some of the powder it contained over the table. There were a handful of spells she knew that would have been faster, but she was meant to be blending.

"It's like the magnetic powder they use for fingerprints, except it reacts to traces of ectoplasm. There's usually more than just the goopy crap you can see." Dean frowned and was looking at her skeptically, but just as he was opening his mouth the powder began reacting and his eyes widened in surprise instead. Curious, he stepped forward and crouched down across from her.

"What the hell?" he murmured, this time his brow creasing in concentration. His green eyes squinted at the pattern the powder pulled into, its black color standing out against the bloodied white marble. Lorelai frowned too, and stopped tapping out the powder when she saw she'd caught it all. The symbol left behind was horribly familiar, but she couldn't place it. "You think it was at the other scenes too?"

"Probably," she said with a shrug. "I've seen that before." Lorelai felt Dean's gaze shift back to her, but she remained intent on the symbol. It was almost like an infinity sign, except the sides weren't curved, they were straight, and where the lines overlapped in the middle, they didn't just form an x but instead wove into a crude star-pentagram looking thing.

"Another case?" Dean asked and Lorelai shook her head, brow furrowing while she made to reach for her phone.

"No," she said slowly.

"Somewhere recent?" She shook her head again and snapped the picture before pushing hair out of her face and looking up at him.

"No, definitely not. But I know I've seen it. Does it look familiar to you at all?" She almost said she may have seen it at school but caught herself. It wouldn't have been impossible to explain, but it would be easier to not bring it up. Dean was shaking his head in the negative while she pushed back to her feet, returning to scanning the area for anything else that may have been amiss. Aside from a poorly installed range, she saw nothing.

"Not at all. We could try and get into the other scenes though, see if anything's still left."

Lorelai wasn't very optimistic, especially when Dean reminded her how much time had passed between each death, sounding equally skeptical despite it being his idea. But they were already there, so she had him lead the way and figured it was worth a shot. Charlotte Kennedy's apartment was a lost cause – her surviving family was still living there, though it seemed like they may have been in the process of packing, and were not interested in visitors. The apartment of the late Harper Thompson, however, was vacant, and Dean was able to pick the lock no problem, letting them slip in undetected.

It was clear a cleaning crew had been through, and the space still smelled of fresh paint and new carpet. Together they made quick work of sweeping through before ultimately finding the same symbol on the vanity in the bathroom. Even with the new clue, however, Lorelai found some of her good mood evaporating by the time they hit the elevator to go back to the ground floor. The symbol was still nagging at her, and by then she really did want a second cup of coffee.

"You're sure it wasn't another case you worked?" Dean asked as the floor levels lit up in descending order. He'd been trying to help jog her memory, but Lorelai shook her head dejectedly.

"Positive. Let's find a library… preferably a university. They have better stuff than the public ones." The man that had showed them up tried to ask them questions on their way out, but Lorelai hardly noticed she was so caught up in her thoughts, and she appreciated that Dean at least had the presence of mind to deal with him before jogging to catch up with her a moment later.

There were multiple colleges in the area, but after some needling from Lorelai, Dean acquiesced and let her guide them to Brown. He worried they'd stick out, but Lorelai told him to let her take the lead and pointed out that it was a big school, which meant it'd be easier to get lost in the crowd.

She was right, and it wasn't long before they were roaming the stacks, easily passing for a couple of students. Dean's lack of enthusiasm for research was apparent quickly, but after some initial grumbling, he slipped into the role well, pulling books off shelves and making suggestions, helping her eliminate sources he was familiar with himself and knew wouldn't have the symbol they were looking for. It took an hour and a half and a cup of coffee before the light bulb went off, and Lorelai slammed the book she'd been skimming shut in frustration, earning a surprised look from Dean.

"Out of coffee?" he asked warily, and Lorelai shook her head, pushing her chair back and beginning to gather up their books.

"No… well, yes, but no, that's not it. We've been looking in the wrong section." Dean's eyebrows knitted together immediately.

"What are you talking about? This is where all the mythological stuff and crap about ancient cultures is."

"Exactly. Symbol we're looking for isn't either of those things." She had his attention now, and he quickly pulled together the last of the books, jumping to his feet and following her to the return cart.

"No?"

"No."

They both dropped their haul onto the return cart, and Lorelai grabbed his hand, pulling him back towards the circulation desk to look at a map.

"Then where are we looking?"

The symbol looked familiar because it had been connected to a string of unsolved murders she'd studied in school. All of the murders had taken place about twenty-five years before Muggles had begun utilizing serology in their crime scene investigations and had been shown to them as an example of how important thinking outside of the status quo could be. Three people had been killed when someone had noticed a symbol drawn in blood was being left at the crime scene. Ten more died and no one ever did anything with the blood.

Lorelai was relieved when they reached the Criminology section and she recognized so many of the spines. The lesson she remembered had been early into her forensics track at Lytton, before the lab had even opened on the island, and she hadn't cracked the 101 book's spine in over a decade. She had, however, kept all of her schoolbooks in her library, and the image of all the titles lined up in her bookcases was nearly seared into her mind for how often she'd zoned out looking at them from the couch.

It took about ten minutes, and the copy she found was a newer edition, but Dean was over her shoulder as she hurriedly flipped to the chapter she was thinking of, and his eyes widened in amazement when she jabbed at the black and white photo embedded in the pages triumphantly.

"How in the hell did you know where to find that?" He asked. Lorelai bit her lip and tried to ignore the heat rising in her face as she looked to Dean. Riddle now solved, she realized how insane she may have come off while solving it. Normally it didn't bother her what people thought – she was good at her job, and her attitude had always been their loss if they couldn't deal with her quirks. This felt decidedly different though, and it wasn't like she could fully explain her background on top of it.

"I, uh, was a Criminology major," she fibbed. "This symbol was linked to a bunch of unsolved serial killings in the late 1800's, and I used it as an example for a project of unsolved crimes that could have benefited from modern forensic techniques." It wasn't completely far off from the truth, it just excluded the fact that her definition of modern forensic techniques included potions and spellwork, and a blend of magic and science that probably would have made his head spin.

"George wasn't kidding about the nerd thing," Dean muttered, though Lorelai detected the impressed tone underlying his voice and had to try not to smile. He pulled the book closer and hunched over, his eyes scanning the page as he read through the passage. Lorelai frowned, her mind already whirring again. With the nagging question of why the symbol looked so familiar now answered, she had a new one, which was why a symbol connected to murders over a hundred years ago showing up in conjunction with a vengeful spirit out of nowhere.

"Alright, so this says it was never solved, but all the killings took place over a five-year period, spread between Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts. Maybe the killer died here and is continuing its work beyond the grave?"

"But why?" she sighed. "You pointed it out, the vics don't have anything in common."

"Yeah, well this guy didn't seem too particular about who he was pickin' off. Murders included two couples, handful of women, two kids, and a few men. They think there were others, but all unconfirmed. That symbol, and the way they all died were the only things that seemed consistent victim to victim."

Lorelai nodded, more of the details coming back to her like she'd unlocked some hidden chunk of knowledge.

"Suspected use of a spring-loaded device, resulting in injuries that mirror ones congruent with a localized explosion." Dean gave her a look but nodded, standing straight again.

"I mean… it fits the bill, Lor." She sighed and finally met his gaze.

"Awesome."

She'd be hard pressed to admit it, but having an excuse to solve a century-old serial murder case was normally the type of thing that would have had Lorelai jumping for joy. She loved being in the field, chasing after the bad guys and helping people, staying on the move… but George hadn't been kidding when she'd been a bit of a closet nerd in school. At least, she had been when it came to her chosen field of study.

Her interest in fighting evil had been born long before she'd reconnected with Harry, and her first foray into that world had been that unconventional blending of magic and science her school had been known for. At thirteen, she'd found it interesting on a theoretical level when she'd hit a forensics class in her elective rotation. By fourteen, she'd been confronted with the practicality firsthand when they called Amelia's death an accident despite the sloppily obfuscated evidence to the contrary. Muggle law enforcement may often be sloppy and uninformed, but back then magical law enforcement was lazy, and after Amelia, Lorelai had quickly decided she wanted to be part of changing that.

Trying to solve the infamous Shadow Shredder case without access to her normal resources, however, while trying to pass as a Muggle hunter and sort out her own emotions was not nearly as appealing.

Leaving the library, Lorelai and Dean made a few stops – the first to the morgue, where Lorelai took the opportunity to examine Mia Santos' remains, and the others to gather as many burial records as they could from the turn of the century. Lorelai had been relieved that Dean offered to stay in the car, ready to act as a getaway driver if need be while she slipped in and stole what she wanted. Being able to use her real credentials and a few well-placed charms had been a relief.

From there Dean had dropped her at the motel so she could comb through what they had to see if she could guess at which local stiff may have been their killer. He had left shortly after to try and sniff around town and see if there were any local legends that may point them in the right direction. He'd checked in with her a few times, but each time neither of them had been able to report anything of value, and as the sun began to set and Lorelai heard a familiar engine outside the window, she felt tired and frustrated in a way she wasn't used to.

A quick glance through the crack in the curtain confirmed Lorelai's suspicions that it was the Impala, and by the time Dean had the key turning in the lock, her eyes were already reglazing over the burial records in front of her. Research was quite possibly the one part of the job that made her yearn for her desk and the lab – the resources there always made the process at least a bit less painful.

"You find anything?" she called out when she heard Dean coming through the door, not bothering to look up lest she lose her place and have to start over again. In the background, she heard him shuffling around, but she determinedly kept her eyes down on the page.

"Zilch," Dean confirmed, and she heard him pause. "Have you even moved since I left?" His voice was incredulous, if not slightly concerned, and Lorelai huffed.

"These records are a fucking disaster," she complained in way of an answer, biting back any of her normal commentary on what a joke Muggle law enforcement and their justice departments tended to be. Dean chuckled, and the next thing she knew he was pulling the book out from under her with one hand and placing a paper bag in front of her with the other.

"Still can't read the handwriting?" he asked sympathetically.

"It would be easier to decipher hieroglyphics." Dean laughed and dropped into the seat across from her, holding his own bag and placing a cardboard tray with cups between them. Lorelai chose not to add on that she had, in fact, encountered hieroglyphics easier to decipher than the bullshit she'd been sifting through.

"Yeah, alright. C'mon, eat. Enough of this shit for right now, it'll be waiting for us in the morning. We can try walking around some of the older graveyards. The tombstones might be easier to read and there's only a few in town."

Lorelai pushed some hair out of her face and peered tentatively into the bag, the aroma of the food making her suddenly aware of how hungry she really was, and her mouth watering when she realized he'd remembered all her favorites.

"You got me chicken strips and a burger?" she asked eagerly, while Dean began pulling his own food out.

"I was pretty sure you skipped lunch."

"And you got me honey for the chicken?" she continued on as if she hadn't heard him while she began splaying out the food across the table.

"Only the best for my girl," Dean winked, and Lorelai was too excited to even bother correcting him.

"Fuck, you're amazing," she professed, just before taking a large bite from the burger. Lorelai could feel Dean's eyes on her, but she was long past the point of feeling self-conscious about her eating habits – if she'd ever been there to begin with.

"It really is the simple things for you, isn't it?" Dean mused, sounding mildly surprised and impressed. Lorelai nodded, barely pausing to swallow.

"Told you that," Lorelai choked out, covering her mouth to talk through the food just before she swallowed. "I'm a simple girl with simple tastes."

"You are anything but simple," he disagreed, before digging into his own burger and letting out a bit of a moan. "Oh, fuck, that is good though." Lorelai nodded her agreement and continued to devour her meal. Dean reached forward and took one of the sodas.

"I'll say this, the food and beverage options in Providence kick the shit out of Tullahoma," she got out as she swallowed down a mouthful of food. Dean snorted and smirked back at her.

"You're just happy we found decent food last night."

"And a bar that didn't have an open-mic night." The face Dean made at her reminder of Bryson's let him know that he at least shared in her dissatisfaction, and he conceded with a nod.

"Yeah, alright, the nightlife certainly seems a little more active here. We made out alright in Tullahoma though." Catching the suggestive tone in his voice, Lorelai sent him a coy smile even as she managed another bite of the burger. Now that she'd been reminded of her need to eat, she was amazed she'd gone so long without breaking for food. "Maybe if we wrap up tomorrow we can hit some of the bars on the main drag before we skip town."

"It's not usually a great idea to hang around towns at the end of a hunt, there tend to be messes best left untouched," she reminded him, her heart only half in the protest. Dean held a finger up, a gleam in his eyes.

"Ah, but you should also always make sure the job is actually done. Can't hurt to hang a few extra hours and make sure we burned the right bones."

This time, Lorelai didn't disagree.

She also didn't bother with any false protests when dinner was done and she found herself falling once more into bed with the rugged Muggle hunter that was unwittingly digging his way deeper and deeper under her skin. And when Dean pulled her down onto his lap, already drunk with lust, it was Lorelai that turned their making out into something X-rated when she reached for his belt and sunk down onto her knees, moaning around his dick as he threaded his fingers through her hair and panted above her.

Later, when they were both well and truly spent, Dean pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head that melted her heart in a way she knew it shouldn't have. In the ongoing war between her head and her heart, however, her heart won the battle and Lorelai happily nestled into him, enjoying the heat of his body against hers, and wrapping her own arms around his muscular frame, even as she tilted her head up to kiss him again.

"I think you're officially the best hunting partner I've ever had," Dean croaked out, his head falling back against the pillow as Lorelai dropped hers to his chest. Lorelai snorted with laughter, noting that his heart was still racing while they both caught their breath.

"Oh yeah? You work with many hunters?" she asked, taking the opening to pry. Part of her brain was curious to know if there might be any information that could possibly alleviate the concerns she had. Dean, unaware of her musings, shook his head and just held her tight.

"No, actually. Mostly I just work with my dad. My brother, before he went to college. And I had a buddy Lee, but he fell off the radar."

"Hmm, sounds like a real family affair," she commented, and Dean chortled.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. How about you?" Lorelai wanted to laugh but tempered her reaction. It would be hard to explain MACUSA's multiple attempts and consequent failures to find her a partner since Ruskin had retired.

"I have people I trust that I talk shop with. But actual hunting partners? Not so much… it's been said that I don't play well with others." He squeezed one of her breasts without warning while maneuvering to kiss her quickly yet deeply, and by the time he was pulling away, roguish smile in place, Lorelai found herself laughing.

"You seem to do just fine to me." She batted at him playfully and he laughed too, settling back again into the pillows. It was frustrating to her that the longer she spent with him, the stronger pull that impulsive side of her was having, the part that enjoyed how she felt when they were together and liked living in the moment. Adding to that frustration was that the logical part of her brain, of course, wouldn't shut up, nagging at her even though it was seeming more and more like a losing battle. Fred's voice rang in her head again, bemoaning her lack of self-preservation instincts.

"Dean?" she asked quietly, her fingers mindlessly tracing patterns over his chest, her fingers occasionally bumping against the brass amulet he always wore. He hummed in acknowledgement, and she pressed on. It was a question she already knew the answer to, but he couldn't know that, and she hoped it would progress the conversation. It was dangerous territory, however, and she needed to tread carefully. "How'd you get into hunting, anyway?"

He stilled for a moment, and she almost felt bad. Most of her co-workers didn't understand – becoming an Auror was a simple career choice for them. But not only did Lorelai have her own tale of woe leading her down the road she'd chosen, she'd also had worked with enough Muggles to know that it was typically tragedy that brought them into such a lifestyle. Tragedy on a scale that most of her American friends and acquaintances were unable to relate to.

"It was my mom," Dean finally said, his voice quieter now, any trace of their earlier laughter gone. "I told you she died in a fire, but it wasn't that simple. My dad, he heard something upstairs… ran up to my little brother's nursery. He found my mom, pinned to the ceiling. He said her stomach was sliced open and when he found her, she burst into flames. He sent me outside with Sammy… I carried him outta the house… but whatever got her was long gone already. We've been huntin' the thing ever since, taking out as many evil bastards and saving as many people in between as we can."

These sorts of emotional conversations had never been Lorelai's forte, something in their limited time she noticed she and Dean seemed to have in common, but she pressed a kiss to his chest and held him closer – her silent way of lending support. When his own grip on her tightened, she knew it was his way of showing he appreciated it, that he understood. She didn't want to bother with the I'm sorry, because she knew how much she hated receiving it herself, and a generic that's awful or anything like it was wholly insufficient.

Outside, through the window, she could make out the sound of cars passing by, and muffled voices drifted in as people got out of cars and began drifting towards their own motel rooms. Lorelai focused on Dean's heartrate – now back to normal – and the steady rise and fall of his chest. Something about it was soothing, and she tried to latch onto it while she prepared for what she'd known would come next:

"What hooked you?"

It was a dicey conversation, and despite having known from the first time she'd called him after Tullahoma that it was coming, Lorelai still felt unprepared. It had been one thing when they'd first been getting to know one another. But now? They were undoubtedly on unequal footing, and Lorelai was unable to pretend otherwise. She knew Dean was being completely honest with her, but to do the same would be dangerous. And these sorts of things, the voice in her head nagged, were why continuing to be involved with him was stupid.

"When I was sixteen a witch tried to kill me. She got my brother instead, and I found out afterwards that she'd been the one to kill my mother. I sort of spiraled after that. Went full board on trying to hunt her down. I got her, about two years after she killed Mark, but it wasn't without some heavy casualties. I just… I wasn't the same person afterwards. I couldn't go back, so this is what I do now."

Nothing she'd said was untrue, she'd just left out some information. But really, even if she could have told him everything, there was no way to tell her full story in one sitting that didn't make her sound batshit. He didn't need to know about everything Jack had done to her, or about Amelia, and trying to explain an entire war that happened in a world he knew nothing about would have been ridiculous. The answer she'd given was sufficient, and the best she could do for the moment.

Dean, of course, was oblivious to any turmoil in her head – or if he noticed, he chalked it up to the subject matter. He pulled her ever closer and soothingly ran fingers through her hair in a gesture that would have had her swooning if she weren't already lying down.

"Casualties," he mused, and Lorelai nodded. It was prodding, and she could tell he was tiptoeing, as equally aware that they were in sensitive territory as she had been. "Those casualties have anything to do with why you're so convinced this is a bad idea? Despite the fact that you can't keep your hands off me?"

She was impressed he'd seen through that part of her so easily and was torn between feeling heartbreak and wanting to laugh, the end result being an odd sounding chuckle erupting from her mouth as she clutched at him and turned her face further into his torso. Eventually, biting the inside of her mouth, she nodded. It wasn't the only reason, obviously, but to say it wasn't a factor would have been a lie. It probably weighed on her more than she was really willing to acknowledge.

"Yeah," she admitted, her voice coming out small. It wasn't that she didn't allow herself to think of Fred, because she thought of him often. It was almost impossible not to for all the reminders she had in her life, between the Weasleys and the joke shop… but she was careful with the thoughts she let in, and the feelings that came with them. Suddenly, however, those feelings felt like a tidal wave, looming over her, ready to strike, and she felt it all welling in a way it hadn't for a long time… the way it had threatened to when she'd gone back for the anniversary.

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to, Lor," Dean told her gently, his fingers still massaging her scalp. "But if you can, you've got a captive audience." Lorelai snorted and tilted her head, her watery stare being met with a kind and steady one, and she felt her nose wrinkle.

"I think we need to work on your idea of pillow talk." Dean grinned back at her and dipped his head for a kiss, his lips lingering on hers while his thumb subtly wiped away some of the unshed tears that had been pooling in her eye.

"You started it, sweetheart," he reminded her, his deep baritone doing something to her insides. "But I'm not about to turn down an opportunity to possibly get inside that head of yours. You're a fucking enigma." Lorelai spared him a playful smile before she nestled back into him, her features evening back out while she considered his request.

"His name was Fred. You remember George? From my birthday?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, nodding. "Hard to forget. About six foot tall, red hair, missing an ear, British. Good guy." Lorelai nodded, her fingers beginning to mindlessly trace over Dean's skin.

"Fred was his twin brother. I met them just after I turned fourteen and I moved in with my aunt and uncle. The three of us fell in together pretty quickly, they became my best friends almost overnight… but there was always something more with Fred. I was… it was… complicated, back then, and we were kids, or I was supposed to be at least, and it took me awhile to pull my head out of my ass. But once we got past being stupid it all just… fit."

"How long were you together?" Lorelai frowned, surprised that she had to think about the answer. It had felt like so much longer than it actually was, he'd been such a part of her.

"Three years. And we uh… we eloped after I graduated." It was again, a small blurring of the facts. They'd gotten married after she'd escaped Malfoy Manor, on the shores of Shell Cottage, in a ceremony that relied entirely on old magic rather than traditional conventions because they were both fugitives, but he'd proposed after she graduated. If it hadn't been for that stupid argument before she'd gone on the run, they'd have done it before she left.

"You were married?" Dean tried but failed to hide the surprise in his voice, but Lorelai wasn't offended. She knew how insane it must have sounded… she understood enough that it was usually something she omitted from her bio when talking to Muggles, but it didn't feel right this time. Lorelai nodded.

"Yeah. What can I say? I was young and in love. It hardly lasted. He was dead before we made it to our first anniversary." She heard her own voice crack and grimaced, hating the sound of it. For a moment she hoped Dean hadn't noticed, but the kiss he placed on her forehead told her otherwise.

"What happened?" he asked her softly. Lorelai swallowed, determined to stay even keeled. This part could stay easy. She couldn't tell Dean the full story anyway, so there was no need to let in the memories of the screams or the smoke of that day.

"He and I were in the same fight. Our families were in the same fight. The witch that killed my mother and Mark wasn't acting alone, she was part of a coven, and they killed Fred and George's uncles. Tried to get more of us. They killed Fred in front of me. I tried to save him, but it was too quick. It uh, it had me pretty messed up for a really long time… I'm probably still a little messed up," she added with a slight laugh, a lame attempt at lightening the mood. Dean didn't bite, though, and Lorelai bit her bottom lip, suddenly terrified. It was too much information, too dark. And it wasn't even the full scoop.

"Lor, I've never lost anyone like that before… hell, I've never had anyone in my life like that before… but I don't think anyone goes through something like that without coming out a little damaged on the other end. My dad certainly didn't. I'm just sorry that happened to you, no one deserves that kind of pain." Lorelai let out a somewhat bitter laugh and sniffed, pushing away all of the emotion again and forcing herself back into the present. Her MACUSA assigned therapist disliked her habit of doing it, but Lorelai decided that bottling it up like that was a lot healthier than what she'd been doing before.

"Since when do we get what we deserve?" Dean huffed out a half-hearted laugh of his own and settled down further into the bed. In doing so, she shifted, and found they were face to face, her head still able to rest on his shoulder, but close enough to his that she could count the barely discernable freckles scattered across his face if she wanted to.

"Touché," he whispered, his warm breath fanning across her skin. The smile on his face was warm, and she was relieved to note that he wasn't looking at her any differently than before. When their lips met a moment later, she was further relieved that he didn't hold back any either as he massaged his tongue against hers and laid claim to her mouth the way he always had. He did break it off just as it was starting to heat up, but she knew it had more to do with the fact that they'd just run each other pretty ragged than anything else.

"You've never had a serious relationship before?" she asked as they simultaneously prepared to go to sleep. Dean reached over to hit the light on his nightstand while Lorelai turned onto her side, happily settling into position as the little spoon. Dean laughed, genuinely that time so that Lorelai felt it rumbling through his chest as his arms came back to embrace her and he wrapped himself around her.

"Of course that's what you'd pick up on," he complained lightheartedly. Lorelai molded the pillows into a more comfortable shape and snuggled against him, begrudgingly reveling in the skin-on-skin contact.

"Well if we're sharing and caring," she taunted, stopping to laugh when Dean nuzzled into her neck. Laughter which quickly turned to moans before she batted him away. "I'm warning you Winchester, don't start anything you're not willing to finish."

"Alright, alright," he shot back, moving his head back and instead splaying a rough palm against the smooth skin of her stomach. "Not like that, not like Fred. But there was a girl I fell pretty hard for. Her name was Cassie, it was a few years ago. Happened fast, it was hot and heavy, and it ended even faster." His tone was lighthearted, but Lorelai sensed something else lurking underneath and she frowned, wrapping her arms around his holding her.

"What happened?" She felt Dean shrug.

"I told her the truth. It didn't go well. I knew better, but I hoped I was wrong."

Lorelai was glad he couldn't see her face, and bit the inside of her cheek, trying to will away the lurch her stomach gave. The image he painted felt achingly familiar, and she wondered again what the hell she was thinking.