September 10th-15th, 2005
The next morning, Lorelai woke with a start, her head pounding and her mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. The bottle of water she'd had the forethought to grab but not to drink lay next to her and she quickly uncapped it, downing as much as she could before collapsing back against the bed. Sunlight streamed through the curtains she'd forgotten to close, and she groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes. The events of the previous night came rushing back – the bar, the cab ride home, the phone call with Dean, her impulsive decision to go to Maine…
"Fuck me," she muttered, forcing herself to sit up despite her body's protests. The room spun as she glanced at the clock, noting it was already 11. There was already a text from Dean too, letting her know where he'd checked in.
She stumbled to the bathroom, wincing at her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged, hair a tangled mess, eyes bloodshot… With a sigh she turned on the shower, giving the water a moment to warm up while she grabbed a Wiggenweld potion from her medicine cabinet and downed it before stripping and stepping under the spray. And as the water washed away the evidence of her overindulgence the night before, Lorelai's mind churned, replaying all of it.
She'd known the clock was running out. It had weighed on her in nearly equal measure this past week as the decision about her promotion had. And there was a part of her that was looking forward to just getting it over with – the stress of holding back, and the guilt that came with the lying had become entirely too much. But it was still a prospect that filled her with anxiety, and she hadn't expected it to come quite so soon.
Her conversation with Olivia earlier in the week had been playing in her head on repeat, and Lorelai had been unable to silence the voice that kept asking if she were more afraid of it going well or going poorly. She could acknowledge, now, that both options were terrifying. The idea of it going poorly, however, of Dean rejecting her, was the worse of the two, and it felt all but inevitable.
It didn't matter how many times she'd tried to play the conversation out in her head, there was no good way to do it. What was she supposed to say?
Hey, by the way, I know that your whole life revolves around hunting and killing supernatural crap, but I just thought you should know I'm a witch?
Or, I know I've been a major pain in the ass about what's been going on between us, but I'm actually completely in love with you and do want to be with you, but I've been lying to you about who I am the entire time. So here's cards on the table and can we start again?
No matter what way she sliced it, there was something for him to be upset about. Even if he by some miracle took the revelation of the wizarding world, and that she was a part of it, well, there was still the fact that they'd been involved for the better part of the last six months, and she'd been lying to him the whole time. She'd had her reasons, but she had a sinking suspicion those reasons wouldn't matter much to Dean.
It still had to be dealt with though, and Lorelai at least had tried to think ahead, starting to formulate at least the loose framework of a plan when she'd submitted the request to MACUSA.
Stepping out of the shower, she dried herself off and went about getting ready for the day while she left a pot of coffee to brew in the kitchen. She opted for a comfortable, worn pair of jeans, a soft, burgundy sweater, and pulled her hair to the side and into an easy braid. It was only a few minutes later that she padded into her office in socked feet, mug of coffee clutched in her hands, feeling significantly more human.
She'd tell Dean face-to-face. It wouldn't be easy, but it was what he deserved, and it was probably her best chance of getting through to him. And if it went as badly as she was expecting… well, she'd been working on something to at least leave behind.
The folder she pulled out of her desk was something she'd been working on the last few weeks here and there, whenever she'd been able to bring herself to. Her hope was that if his initial reaction was bad, that he might at least still come around, away from the heat of the moment. She wasn't stupid – she knew it was a big thing to spring on someone. So, she'd combed through literature both from MACUSA and Lytton, trying to curate things that she thought would matter to Dean. She'd found a synopsis on the International Statute of Secrecy, procured a copy of the oath Aurors had to take, pulled literature Lytton used to help explain magic to Muggleborns being accepted to the school, a brochure she'd helped the MLE put together specifically for hunters, and then – what she suspected might matter most – a list of other hunters that would vouch for the wizarding world, paired with a list of books that would give someone interested better insights into her world. The list wasn't of her making, it was a compilation of contacts her team had made over the years, going back before her tenure had even begun, but she knew enough of the names listed personally and only hoped Dean would recognize some of them too.
The only thing missing now were her own words.
She had a few hours – if she had left at 10, a reasonable lie, it would be believable for her to have gotten to Dean in Ellsworth by 7. Even still, the task was daunting, and Lorelai took a deep breath as she settled in at her desk. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to give the file to Dean, and he'd never see whatever she ended up writing… but if she did… well, Lorelai decided that maybe it would be better not to dwell on just how significant her words might end up being.
Pushing aside her reservations, Lorelai sipped at her coffee and reached for a pen. It was time to face whatever was coming head on.
It was growing dark when Lorelai finally reached White Birches Motel later that night, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting long shadows across the parking lot. The gravel crunched under her boots as she traipsed across the parking lot, bag slung over her shoulder feeling disproportionately heavy knowing what she had stowed away inside. Dean's car was visible outside room 15, and Lorelai was torn between smiling like an idiot and her stomach knotting in anxiety as she approached.
There was a flurry of movement when she knocked, and before she knew it, the door was swinging open to reveal Dean. He was clad in a black T-shirt and jeans, surprise faintly evident in his expression as he took her in.
"Hey sweetheart," he said, easily pulling her in for a hug. "Didn't hear you pull in," he mumbled into her hair. Lorelai held him tight, reveling in the feel of his arms wrapped around her and inhaling the traces of leather and gunpowder that seemed to cling to him perpetually.
"Took the train, cab dropped me off at the front," she lied. Her original plan had been to get a rental car and tell him she'd driven, but she'd changed her mind at the last minute. Given the conversation they were due to have, she found she was less concerned about her excuse being airtight and just wanted simplicity. If Dean could poke holes in the fact that the train schedule didn't line up with her supposed departure and arrival times… well, it wouldn't really matter.
"What? Why didn't you call me? I would've picked you up." Lorelai shrugged, kissing him as they pulled apart instead of answering the question.
"Wasn't a big deal," she promised. "Didn't want to bother you."
Dean rolled his eyes but let her into the room, his hand resting on the small of her back even as he shut the door. The scene inside was one she'd grown used to by now – queen sized bed in the middle of the room, newspapers and weapons spread out on the small table, Dean's duffel bag lying atop the dresser, next to a TV that had seen better days.
"You hungry?" Dean asked as she dropped her own bag by the table.
"Starving," she admitted, realizing that she'd hardly consumed anything aside from coffee all day. There'd been a banana and a day-old donut about an hour after she'd woken up, but that was it. "Find anywhere good around here yet?"
Dean's eyes lit up, a boyish grin spreading across his face.
"Only got here this this afternoon, but some guy at the gas station told me about this diner a few blocks over. Supposed to have the best pie in town."
"Of course you'd zero in on the pie," she snorted.
"Like you're any better," he challenged. "I don't think I've ever met anyone with as big a sweet tooth as you."
"Alright, yeah, I've got a bit of a sweet tooth. I'm not so single-mindedly focused on one desert though."
"Until someone brings up cake," Dean laughed, "which I'm sure they'll have there too. So c'mon, let's go."
Dean shrugged on a flannel while Lorelai followed him back outside. It was significantly cooler here than New York, the crisp air a sure sign that Fall was upon them, at least as far as Lorelai was concerned. It was quieter here, too, and Lorelai had to admit the change of pace, especially after the week she'd had, was nice.
As they drove through the little town Lorelai couldn't help but note that it felt like the town that time had forgotten – a sentiment that only intensified as they reached the diner. The structure was weatherworn, and to say the inside was dated felt like an understatement. It was clean but clearly hadn't been updated in years – since the 50's if Lorelai had to guess.
She and Dean slid into a booth in the back corner, the waitress handing them slightly sticky plastic menus while one of the other diners played with the juke box a few feet away. Orders were placed quickly enough – a burger for Dean, with his usual bacon and extra cheese, and a meatball sub with mozzarella sticks for Lorelai. It was as the waitress walked away that Dean finally looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"So… about that phone call last night…"
Lorelai groaned, burying her face in her hands, elbows rested on the table.
"Oh c'mon, you're not really gonna bring that up, are you?"
Dean laughed and Lorelai reluctantly looked back up when he gently nudged her foot under the table.
"Hey, I'm not complaining," he pointed out. "I'm just wondering if drunk Lorelai might make an appearance again. She was pretty fun."
Lorelai found the corners of her mouth twitching up but rolled her eyes. The smile on Dean's face was fond, even if it was filled with mirth, and the sight made her feel pleasantly warm.
"Oh shut up," she complained, feigning exasperation she knew Dean could see through. "I'm only here for the ghouls, remember?"
His answering laugh was warm and rich, and sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.
"Right, of course," he agreed mock seriously, nodding as he did. "The ghouls. Not like you drove all the way up here just to see me or anything."
Her heart skipped a beat at his words, remembering full well she'd already admitted the night before that this excursion was in fact about seeing him. Still, the vulnerability was harder to swallow without the liquid courage and Lorelai wrapped her hands around the mug of coffee she'd asked for before even looking at the menu.
"Definitely not," she said weakly, her heart not in it. She brought the coffee to her mouth a moment later, ready to take a sip, but found herself freezing in place when Dean caught her eye. She was relieved that he didn't look upset, that same fond smile still playing across his features, although it had softened. An understanding seemed to pass between them, one that threatened to crush her with its weight but made her feel seen in a way she didn't hate. And just when it was getting to be too much, too overwhelming, Dean smirked and broke the moment, reaching for his own drink.
"So now that we've got that settled," he joked, "you wanna tell me more about that promotion? I gotta be honest, Lor, I didn't think you really gave a shit about the writing gig."
Her stomach dropped at the question, her whole body seizing at the change in topic. There was a reason she's stopped herself from calling him to share the news on Friday… but of course in her drunken state she hadn't thought anything of it when he called the night before.
There was no denying it was the perfect opportunity to come clean, or at least start the conversation. She should tell him she didn't give a shit about the writing gig, because the writing gig wasn't real.
"I, uh…" she started, then faltered. The diner suddenly felt too small, too public. The clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation felt amplified, pressing in on her as if she were drowning. She didn't have the folder if things went badly, and the setting was too public for the scene that was bound to ensue. Dean's eyes on her, curious and open, weren't helping, only adding to the weight.
She wanted to tell him. She knew she should. But the fear of losing him… of seeing that openness turn to betrayal and anger, was paralyzing.
And so she made a split-second decision. Not here, not now. She'd tell him after the case, when they had privacy and time to really talk it through. For now, she just wanted to enjoy their time together. A few more days wasn't going to make a difference, and they had other things to focus on, even if it was likely going to be an easy hunt.
"I don't," she admitted, forcing a light chuckle. "But, you know, a raise is a raise. And I get a little more free reign now, have more say in what I work on. That kind of thing."
Dean nodded, seeming to accept her explanation, but that only made her feel worse.
"That's pretty cool, Lor. That mean you might actually let me read some of your stuff now?"
Lorelai snorted, even as her anxiety flared.
"We'll see," she couched when she saw the flicker of hurt on his face. He'd understand soon enough, she reminded herself… though that truth was likely to come with its own kind of pain. "I wouldn't hold your breath, though."
"Aw, come on," Dean wheedled, his eyes twinkling once more with mischief. "Give me something. I promise I won't laugh… much."
Lorelai kicked him lightly under the table, immensely grateful when their food arrived moments later, providing a welcome distraction. And as they dug into their meals she was quick to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"So how was Indiana? You hear any more from your dad after he left?"
Dean's expression clouded slightly, his jaw tightening, and Lorelai was already able to guess at the answer to her second question.
"Not much to tell," he said, seeming to shrug it off, or at least trying to. Lorelai knew him well enough by then to see through the façade. He was definitely bothered. "Turned out to be a pretty standard haunting. Salt and burn, case closed."
"And your dad?" Lorelai pressed gently. Dean stilled, and for a moment she wondered if he'd deflect, but ultimately he sighed and put down his burger.
"He called this morning, kept it vague, just said he had something to go check on and he'd be tied up a day or two. He's been… flaky lately. More than usual, I mean. Showing up for cases, then disappearing halfway through. Or sending me places and then being unreachable when I get there. After Georgia I sort of thought he was just giving me space because he figured I was working with you, but… I don't know. Getting the sense it's something else."
Lorelai frowned and wished she were close enough to wrap an arm around him, but settled for gently nudging him under the table, much the way he had done to her earlier.
"I'm sorry, Dean. You shouldn't have to be dealing with that."
He gave her a small smile but shrugged, grabbing his burger again.
"It's fine. I'm used to it by now. Just wish I knew what he was up to, you know?"
They fell quiet for a moment. Lorelai knew it wasn't fine, but she'd also learned to tread carefully on the topic of John Winchester.
As they ate and finished their meals, the tension from their earlier conversation dissipated, replaced by the easy comfort they'd cultivated over the past few months. Dean regaled her with stories from the road, his eyes crinkling with laughter as he recounted a particularly ridiculous case he'd worked involving cursed animatronics at a Plucky Pennywhistle's.
"I swear, Lor, it was like something out of a bad horror movie. Lee and I are basically running for our lives from those creepy-ass singing animals, and breaking 'em just made it worse. We took the head off the one, and then we just had this headless robotic body coming after us while the head spun around the floor still going. Ended up being some disgruntled employee dabbling in fucking witchcraft. Soon as we found the hex bags we were golden. I'm tellin' you though – witches, man." And he gave a shudder that made the pit in Lorelai's stomach grow.
She ignored it, though, and as the night wore on, Lorelai found herself relaxing more and more. The guilt of her earlier lie still lingered at the edges of her consciousness, but she pushed it aside, determined to enjoy this time with Dean. She'd tell him everything soon, she promised herself. Just... not tonight. They had a case to get through first.
By the time they made it to dessert – pie for Dean, of course, and a slice of chocolate cake for Lorelai – the earlier tension had dissipated entirely.
Back at the motel, they fell into each other's arms with a familiar urgency. Clothes were shed quickly, hands roaming over well-known curves and planes. Dean's lips trailed a path of fire down Lorelai's neck, eliciting a soft gasp as he found that sensitive spot just below her ear.
"Fuck, baby," he murmured against her heated skin. "You feel so good. Been waiting all day for this, missed you so much."
"Missed you too," she breathed, pulling him closer.
They moved together with practiced ease, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Every touch, every kiss was charged with a mixture of passion and tenderness that left them both breathless. When they finally came apart, it was with shared sighs of contentment, limbs tangled and hearts racing.
As they lay in the afterglow, Dean's fingers tracing lazy patterns on Lorelai's bare back, she found herself wishing they could stay in this moment forever. Here, in the quiet darkness of the motel room, with Dean's steady heartbeat under her ear, everything felt right. Simple. Uncomplicated. She had the startling realization that this was home… or at least a version of it. She'd learned a long time ago that home wasn't about a place but about the people, and the contentment she felt lying there in Dean's arms was the kind of feeling only a select few people had managed to elicit.
Lorelai stirred first the next day, momentarily disoriented before remembering where she was. Dean was still asleep beside her, his face relaxed in a way she rarely saw when he was awake. She allowed herself a moment to study him, tracing the lines of his face with her eyes, committing every detail to memory. An unwelcome voice questioned how many more of these mornings she'd get to have, and Lorelai did her best to ignore that voice.
Eventually, Dean began to stir, his eyes fluttering open. A slow smile spread across his face as he focused on Lorelai. "Morning, sweetheart," he mumbled, voice still rough with sleep.
"Morning," Lorelai replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Sleep well?"
Dean hummed in agreement, pulling her closer. "Always do when you're here."
They lay there for a while longer, trading lazy kisses and soft touches, until Dean's stomach let out a loud growl and they were both reminded of the need for food and caffeine. It didn't take long for them to dress and find their way back to the same diner from the night before, and over piled high with eggs, bacon, and pancakes, they began to discuss the case.
"So," Dean said between bites, "what do you know about ghouls?"
Lorelai swallowed her mouthful of coffee before responding. "Nasty scavengers. Feed on the dead, can take on the appearance of the last corpse they've eaten. Not too hard to kill, though. Headshot or decapitation should do the trick."
"Not bad, Baudelaire," Dean nodded and Lorelai shrugged.
"Not exactly my first rodeo," she pointed out. "So, what's our first move?"
They spent the rest of breakfast planning out their day. First stop would be the police station to gather more information on the grave robberies, followed by a trip to the morgue to check out the most recent body that had been unearthed.
At the police station, Dean flashed a fake FBI badge, introducing Lorelai as his partner. The local sheriff seemed relieved to have federal assistance, eagerly handing over all the files they had on the case rather than questioning their jurisdiction.
"Animal activity, my ass," Dean muttered as they pored over the files back at the motel. "Look at these photos."
Lorelai nodded distractedly without looking up, her eyes scanning her own set of gruesome images.
"Definitely not," she agreed, before sighing and passing over a close up of one of the bodies. The damage the photo zoomed in on included an exposed femur, and Lorelai pointed. "The striations on the bone are consistent with human dentition, or at least something mimicking it."
Dean raised an eyebrow and Lorelai flushed, realizing her slip. "Striations? Dentitions? Alright, Dr. Lor, what's your conclusion?"
"We're definitely dealing with ghouls," she said, rolling her eyes but smiling at his teasing. "Jackass."
Dean smirked back, unbothered as he stared at her with undisguised affection.
"No shit. These pictures tell that big brain of yours anything else?"
Lorelai quickly scanned the tabletop before passing over a similar photo from a different body and pointing again to the damage clear on the exposed bone.
"We're dealing with more than one."
That caught Dean's attention, and he straightened up, looking impressed as he squinted at what she'd shown him.
They spent the next few hours mapping out the locations of the grave robberies, looking for patterns or connections between the victims. It was tedious, and as the morning and then afternoon passed them by, Lorelai found herself growing weary. When Dean suggested they take a walk around some of the graveyards that had been hit before dinner, Lorelai leapt at the chance to stretch their legs.
"Y'know, they're not exactly being subtle," Dean mused as they got out of the car. They'd parked at an old church, its regular marquee sign encouraging attendance at services and boasting about choir signups, while a yard sign beneath it advertised a local carnival being put on in town that week. Lorelai shrugged.
"So? They're ghouls. Not exactly known for their smarts."
Dean quirked an eyebrow in her direction as they fell into step together, heading towards the cemetery to the side of the building.
"No, but it still feels a little too easy." Lorelai snorted, and Dean continued on. "Doesn't seem a little off to you?"
Lorelai mulled his words but shrugged. He wasn't wrong, she realized, her attention was just divided, and her subconscious had been much more focused on what she'd have to tackle after the case than the case itself.
"A little," she conceded. "Maybe they don't care about attracting attention."
"They're not the brightest, Lor, but monsters generally aren't suicidal."
"Maybe they aren't planning on sticking around. There were valuables taken from each grave, they could be interested in more than feeding. They're… somewhat human-like. Maybe they've got human-like motivations." Dean frowned, his brow furrowing as they continued to walk.
"I don't know, maybe. But that's a good point. When we get back to the motel we should go through everything again, see if there's anything linking all the burials or embalming. They'd have to know what they're digging up to keep hitting stiffs that were buried with anything worthwhile."
They spent the next two days digging through records, interviewing witnesses, and following up on leads. Lorelai found herself slipping easily into the routine of hunting, her magical abilities tucked away but her analytical mind working overtime.
Dean's theory that the gravesites were chosen deliberately only gained credibility as they worked. It turned out that each of the bodies had been prepared by the same funeral home, and so Lorelai and Dean began looking into the employees, trying to find if any of them might be one of the ghouls they were looking for.
"We should drop in," Dean suggested, "poke around a bit." Lorelai nodded, stretching in her seat.
"Yeah," she agreed. "I'll go change. Your shirt probably needs to be ironed if we're going in as feds again, though." But Dean was already shaking his head.
"I don't think we should. We don't know who we're looking for, and if we go in as law enforcement, we might tip our hand," he said, a frown creasing his bro. "Don't wanna spook 'em."
Lorelai bit her lip, considering his words. There was no denying he had a point, but she wasn't sure what other cover Dean might be thinking of.
"Okay. What's the plan then?" And she knew immediately from the mischievous glint that appeared in Dean's eyes she wasn't going to like the answer.
"You're a journalist, right? I don't think we even need a cover. Let's go in like you're working the story. I can be your… I don't know, assistant or something."
For no good reason, Lorelai didn't like it. There was something about perpetuating the lie she'd told Dean so thoroughly that made her feel sick. She didn't have a better idea, though, certainly not anything she could justify, and so she nodded.
"Yeah, alright. I'll call and see if someone can meet with us."
The interior of the funeral home was somber and tastefully decorated, if not a little overly formal. A middle-aged woman with graying hair looked up from the reception desk as they entered, her expression polite but curious.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice hushed as if they were at a funeral service. Lorelai stepped forward, Dean hovering behind her, and forced down her own discomfort.
"I have an appointment with Mr. Hartley? I'm Lorelai Baudelaire, this is my associate, Dean Gibson, we're with The National Herald."
Dean had insisted she not use his real last name, and Lorelai was familiar enough with hunters by then to not need an explanation.
"One moment, please."
As the receptionist picked up the phone, Dean leaned in close to Lorelai, his breath warm against her ear.
"See? Told you it would work."
A few minutes later, they were ushered into a small office where a tall, thin man with a receding hairline greeted them.
"Ms. Baudelaire, Mr. Winchester," he said, shaking their hands in turn. "I'm Thomas Hartley. I understand you're working on a story about the robberies?"
Lorelai nodded, settling into one of the chairs across from Hartley's desk.
"That's right," she confirmed. "Thank you for meeting with us. We're particularly interested in how these incidents have affected your business and your clients. I imagine it's been quite distressing for everyone involved."
Hartley sighed, running a hand over his balding head. "You have no idea," he said, his voice weary. "We've had families calling in a panic, worried about their loved ones. It's been a nightmare, frankly."
As Hartley continued to speak, Lorelai and Dean exchanged subtle glances, silently communicating. They listened attentively, asking carefully crafted questions that wouldn't raise suspicion but might yield useful information.
"Have you had to make any changes to your staff or procedures in light of these events?" Dean asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
Hartley shook his head. "Not really. We've always been very thorough in our background checks, even though in a town like this everyone knows everyone. Most of us have been here for years. One of our assistants is new… Paul. Keeps mostly to himself, but sweet kid. Model employee. Always on time, does his work without complaint."
Lorelai and Dean's ears both perked up at this, and they exchanged subtle glances.
They spent another twenty minutes or so chatting with Hartley, gleaning what information they could without arousing suspicion. At one point Dean slipped out under the premise of needing the bathroom, but Lorelai knew better, and as they left the funeral home, Dean confirmed her suspicions, triumphantly pulling a folder from the inside pocket of his jacket.
"Personnel record for one Paul Hobbs," he told her cheerfully. "And a list of the rest of their staff."
Lorelai felt a mixture of relief and excitement. They had a lead.
The rest of the night was spent at the library digging into Paul's background. It didn't take long to confirm their suspicions: Paul Hobbs was in fact a dead man from Wisconsin.
"Bingo," Dean said triumphantly, tossing a printout onto the table between them. "Paul Hobbs, died in a car accident two years ago in Milwaukee. Looks like our ghoul buddy's been busy."
Lorelai leaned over to examine the document, her shoulder brushing against Dean's. The contact sent a spark of electricity through her, and she had to force herself to focus on the task at hand.
"So what's our next move?" she asked quietly. Dean's eyes met hers, and for a moment, the air between them crackled with tension. Then he cleared his throat, looking away.
"We check out the address in his file," he said, his voice gruff. "And if that's a bust, which if this thing has half a brain, it will be, we tail him. See where he leads us."
The next evening found them parked across the street from one of the local cemeteries, the Impala's engine off and the windows cracked just enough to let in the cool night air. Lorelai shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position as they settled in for what could be a long night of surveillance. Dean glanced over at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"Not used to stakeouts, huh?"
"Please," she scoffed, "I'm a professional. Just feeling a little restless."
"I'd point out the coffee probably isn't helping, but I like sleeping in the same bed as you too much," he quipped, eyeing the to go cup in her hand, and Lorelai snorted.
"Wise man. As if caffeine has any effect on me at this point anyway."
"Aside from making or breaking your mood? Definitely not."
They both laughed, Lorelai settling into Dean's side as they kept their ears and eyes open. His warmth was welcome against the chill that had set in after the sun had gone down, and despite the restlessness she was quite content to continue sipping at her coffee.
Thankfully, it wasn't long before movement near the cemetery gates caught their attention. Two figures, moving with an unnatural grace that immediately set off alarm bells, were making their way into the graveyard.
"Showtime," Dean muttered, reaching for the door handle.
They moved silently across the street, their own movements fluid and reflective of their respective years on the job. As they approached the cemetery gates, Lorelai felt the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins, welcome and somewhat freeing.
But as they crept deeper into the cemetery, following the shadowy figures, something felt off. The ghouls were moving too quickly, too purposefully. It was as if...
"Dean," Lorelai whispered urgently, grabbing his arm. "I think they know we're here."
No sooner had the words left her mouth than the ghouls suddenly broke into a run, darting between headstones with inhuman speed. Dean cursed under his breath, and then they were both sprinting after their quarry.
The chase was chaotic, a blur of moonlit granite and shadowy figures. Lorelai's heart pounded in her chest as she vaulted over a low headstone, her eyes never leaving the fleeing ghouls. She could hear Dean's heavy breathing beside her, feel the heat radiating off his body as they ran side by side.
But the ghouls had the advantage of speed and familiarity with the terrain. As they reached the far end of the cemetery, the creatures suddenly veered off in different directions, disappearing into the darkness.
Dean skidded to a halt, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Fuck," he panted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "They're gone."
Lorelai leaned against a nearby mausoleum, her own breathing ragged. "We can't follow them," she said, reluctantly. "Not in the dark. We don't know the area well enough."
Dean nodded, though the set of his jaw betrayed his frustration. "You're right," he agreed. "We'll come back in the morning. See if we can pick up their trail."
As they made their way back to the Impala, Lorelai couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment mixed with what she imagined a stay of execution would feel like. She hated not finishing a job, especially after getting so close, but she hadn't forgotten what would come afterwards on this one.
Of course, she and Dean were back at the cemetery as soon as the sun was up, methodically combing the area where they'd lost the ghouls.
"Over here," Dean called out, crouching near a cluster of overgrown bushes. As Lorelai approached, she saw what had caught his attention – a scrap of fabric caught on one of the branches.
"Good eye," she said, kneeling beside him to examine the evidence. "Looks like it matches the jacket one of them was wearing last night."
Dean nodded, his expression intense as he scanned the surrounding area. "They went this way," he said, pointing towards a barely visible path leading away from the cemetery.
They followed the trail carefully, alert for any sign of danger. The path led them through a patch of dense woods, emerging on the outskirts of an abandoned industrial area.
"Well, this should be fun," she sighed, surveying the area. There were multiple buildings, all in varying states of disrepair, and numerous hiding places beyond the structures – empty shipping containers and abandoned vehicles alike. Dean frowned.
"C'mon," Dean murmured, his hand instinctively moving to the gun tucked into his waistband. "Let's get this over with."
Lorelai nodded, her own hand twitching towards where her wand was concealed. It was so frustrating knowing she could have their problem solved with a single, simple spell, but she reminded herself that it was a problem of her own making.
"Let's," she agreed.
It took hours, their efforts slowed by their determination to remain quiet and not inadvertently announce their presence, but eventually they were down to the last building.
They entered the warehouse cautiously, every sense on high alert. The interior was dim and musty, filled with abandoned machinery and stacks of rotting crates. As they crept deeper into the building, the sound of voices reached their ears confirming that they had at last found their mark.
"...need to leave tonight," one voice was saying, urgent and frustrated. "We should have left already."
"Calm down," another voice replied, smoother and more controlled. "We just need to finish packing up the goods, and then we're out of here."
Dean and Lorelai exchanged a glance, silently communicating their plan. With a nod, they split up, each taking a different approach to the source of the voices.
Lorelai moved silently, years of experience kicking in as she navigated the cluttered space. She could see movement ahead, partially obscured by a stack of crates. Taking a deep breath, she readied herself for action.
Suddenly, a crash echoed through the warehouse, followed by a string of colorful curses in Dean's voice. The ghouls' heads snapped up, instantly alert to the intrusion.
"Hunters!" one of them snarled, and then all hell broke loose.
Lorelai burst from her hiding spot, her gun already drawn and aimed, but the ghouls were already moving.
The fight was fast and brutal. Lorelai ducked a wild swing from one of the ghouls, using her momentum to drive her elbow into its solar plexus. The creature stumbled back, momentarily winded, and Lorelai used the opportunity to line up her shot.
The crack of her gun firing echoed through the warehouse, and the ghoul's head snapped back, a spray of blood and brain matter painting the wall behind it. It crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Across the room, Dean was grappling with the other ghoul. Lorelai's heart leapt into her throat as she saw the creature gain the upper hand, pinning Dean against a rusty piece of machinery. Without thinking, she raised her gun again, taking careful aim.
"Dean, duck!" she yelled, and to his credit, Dean didn't hesitate. He dropped low, and Lorelai squeezed the trigger.
The ghoul's head exploded in a gory mess, its body slumping forward onto Dean. For a moment, everything was still, the only sound their heavy breathing echoing in the cavernous space.
Then Dean pushed the corpse off him, grimacing as he wiped ghoul blood from his face. "Nice shot," he said, his voice rough but appreciative.
Lorelai lowered her gun, her heart still racing. "You okay?" she asked, moving closer to examine him for injuries.
Dean nodded, wincing slightly as he rotated his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm good. Might have a few bruises, but nothing serious." His eyes met hers, a mix of adrenaline and something softer swirling in their green depths. "Thanks for having my back."
"Always," Lorelai replied, the word carrying more weight than she'd intended.
They stood there for a moment, the air between them charged with unspoken emotions. Then Dean cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "We should, uh, take care of the bodies," he said, gesturing to the ghouls' remains.
Lorelai nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Right. And we should see what they were planning to take with them."
They worked efficiently, wrapping the ghoul corpses in some old tarps they found in the building. As the minutes ticked by, Lorelai felt the anxiety building once more in her chest but forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Once the bodies were loaded into the Impala's trunk, they grabbed a couple of sandwiches from the local deli before they made their way to a secluded spot outside of town to salt and burn the remains.
As they watched the flames consume the ghouls and munched on their sandwiches, Lorelai found it was getting harder to stay calm. The press of Dean's thigh against hers, usually a comfort, was only serving as a reminder of what she stood to lose.
Dean was mercifully oblivious to any of her inner turmoil and crumpled up the paper from his sandwich, tossing it aside before leaning back against the hood, his arm coming to rest behind her as he leaned in closer.
"You did good in there," he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair. Lorelai hummed in acknowledgement, hardly trusting herself to speak.
"We both did," she said. Dean pulled her closer and Lorelai settled into his side, focusing on her breathing.
They stayed like that until the fire burned down to embers until, eventually, they were climbing back into the Impala. Lorelai found herself wishing they could just keep driving, leave all their complications behind and just... be.
But reality had a way of intruding, and as they pulled into the motel parking lot, Lorelai knew their time was running short. Stumbling into the room, she caught sight of her bag, the one that had the folder tucked safely away inside, and her stomach churned.
Suddenly, the walls were closing in on her, and her chest tightened. Dean stretched, stripping off his jacket and tossing it over one of the chairs by her table. It was then, tracking the movement, that Lorelai spotted one of the local papers they'd picked up earlier in the week. There was a colorful ad, touting the same local carnival the church had been, and she was struck with an idea.
"Hey," she said, picking it up. "There's a carnival in town. We should go."
Dean looked at her incredulously.
"Seriously?" he questioned. "We just spent the day ganking monsters, and you want to go ride the Ferris wheel?"
Lorelai shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. She only hoped her desperation didn't show through.
"Why not? We deserve a little fun, don't we? Come on, Winchester. Live a little."
For a moment, Dean hesitated, and Lorelai felt her stomach drop. But then his expression softened, a fond smile playing at his lips. "You know what? Sure, why the hell not? But first, we shower. I smell like ghoul guts."
They took turns in the shower, washing away the grime and gore of the day. As Lorelai dried her hair, she caught sight of her bag in the corner again, the folder still hidden inside. A wave of guilt washed over her, but she pushed it aside. One more night, she told herself. One more night of normalcy before everything changed. It wasn't too much to ask.
The carnival was in full swing when they arrived that evening. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, the whir of rides, and the enticing aroma of fried foods. Lorelai felt a childlike excitement bubble up inside her as she took in the colorful lights and bustling crowd.
"Come on," she said, grabbing Dean's hand and pulling him towards the game booths. "I bet I can out-shoot you at the rifle range."
Dean laughed, allowing himself to be dragged along. "Oh, you're on, sweetheart."
They spent the next few hours acting like carefree teenagers. They competed at various games, gorged themselves on crappy food, rode the Tilt-A-Whirl until they were dizzy, and laughed more than Lorelai could remember doing in a long time.
As the night wore on, they found themselves at the top of the Ferris wheel, the carnival spread out below them in a sea of twinkling lights. Lorelai leaned into Dean's side, his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders.
"This was a good idea," Dean admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Thanks for talking me into it."
Lorelai hummed contentedly, snuggling closer. "Anytime, Winchester. Someone's got to remind you to have fun every once in a while."
They lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the world go by beneath them. Lorelai felt a lump form in her throat as she realized this might be the last time they shared a moment like this. Tomorrow, she'd have to tell him the truth, and everything could change.
"Hey," Dean said softly, sensing her shift in mood. "You okay?"
Lorelai nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... thinking."
Dean studied her face for a moment before leaning in to capture her lips in a tender kiss. "Whatever it is," he murmured against her lips, "we'll figure it out together, okay?"
Lorelai's heart clenched at his words, equal parts touched by his sentiment and terrified of losing it. She kissed him back fiercely, trying to pour all her unspoken feelings into the gesture.
As they made their way back to the motel later that night, hand in hand, Lorelai tried to memorize every detail. The warmth of Dean's hand in hers, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the familiar rhythm of his steps beside her.
Regardless of how it all went, she knew that come morning, everything would change. But for now, for this one last night, she allowed herself to pretend that this was all there was.
Unsurprisingly, morning rolled around all too soon, the sun illuminating their small motel room, and Lorelai couldn't help but let out a moan upon feeling Dean's fingers lightly tracing up and down the side of her body. Although not normally a morning person, there was something to be said for waking up surrounded by his familiar scent of gunpowder, soap, and leather, with the solid warmth of his body beside her drawing her in.
In that moment, it was still easy to pretend that everything was okay. Memories of the things his hand had done the night before played through her mind, only making the heat in her stomach pool faster, and Lorelai didn't have to look to know the cocky smirk that was be on his face as he dropped his head to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her collarbone up to just below her ear.
"'Morning sunshine," he whispered lowly, so close she could feel his breath on her neck. His deep voice sent delicious chills down her spine and, despite what she'd told herself the night before, Lorelai rolled back into his toned chest and turned her head to catch his lips in a fiery kiss. Dean responded enthusiastically, his body contorting around hers and his fingers straying off their course to find a nipple instead. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting another moan from her, and when she broke away only a moment later, the angle not having been great on her neck, she was achingly aware that she was all but putty in his hands.
"Morning," she returned, her head falling back against the pillow as Dean's hand continued its exploration of her body. All she could do was relish the feeling of being pressed up against him.
"Wanna tell me again how the ghouls are the only reason you agreed to meet up with me?" he taunted, his tone reminding her he was already fully aware of the truth.
"Not fair," she breathed, "this is cheating."
A satisfied chuckle rumbled through his chest as he shifted her hair to tease the sensitive spot on the back of her neck with his mouth, all the while continuing to massage her breast and allowing her to writhe against him.
"Never said I played fair, sweetheart." He emphasized his point by adjusting his hips ever so slightly, and Lorelai could have cursed herself for the whimper she let escape her lips when she felt how hard he already was. It had been so long, she'd forgotten until Dean had come along, how much better it could be with someone that knew her body so intimately, and the more they'd been seeing each other she'd been dismayed to realize the more she craved him – a fact that certainly hadn't escaped Dean's attention. That nagging voice in her head invaded her thoughts, asking if she thought he'd still want her by the time the day was over, or if she was about to lose what she'd found all over again.
"Dean," she said, her voice coming out exasperated and aroused all at the same time. Lorelai wasn't sure what she was expecting next, but it certainly hadn't been for him to give her neck one last kiss as he stopped fondling her. Before she could react, however, he was gently rolling her over to face him, his arms wrapping securely around her frame.
She was half expecting him to roll on top of her, line himself up with her entrance and push in, or start teasing her until she begged him to. She was surprised when instead he only held her closer and rested his forehead against hers, going in for a much tamer kiss than she'd anticipated. Lorelai clutched at him as his tongue rolled against hers, desperate for more, but Dean seemed unmoved, pulling away only to push their foreheads back together once more, one of his hands coming up to softly twine through her hair.
"Feeling a little frisky this morning, huh?" he joked. Lorelai glowered at him, although they both knew there was no real malice behind it.
"Can't imagine why," she retorted sarcastically. Dean pulled her closer, running his free hand down her spine to rest on the small of her back.
"Yeah, I d'unno," he agreed, feigning innocence. "Thought you would've been worn out after last night." Lorelai snorted.
"To think, I thought you would have known better than that by now. More important question is why did you start something you're not up to finishing." Dean's eyes widened at the challenge, and he ground against her again.
"Oh, I'm always up for it," he growled. Lorelai giggled – an uncommon act for her but a reaction Dean had been able to coax out of her on more than one occasion – and craned up to meet his lips. He kissed her, hungrily this time, and his left hand moved from her back to splay across her hip, holding her to him tightly. She knew something still wasn't right, however, when she moved to push Dean onto his back, and he didn't budge. From the look on his face, he knew he'd been caught as Lorelai broke away to stare at him skeptically. It occurred to her that she might not be the only one with something heavy on her mind.
"Alright, Winchester, what's going on?" she demanded.
"Can't a guy just –"
"Dean." She'd used a warning tone that time. He fell silent, studying her for a moment before sighing and gently running his thumb over her temple, his fingers still tangled in her hair.
"My dad called about a half hour ago. He's got a case out for me in Oregon and I've gotta leave tonight." Lorelai frowned, an inkling of what was really on his mind starting to dawn on her, but she wasn't sure if she was right.
"I figured you'd be heading somewhere. We don't typically hang around town after wrapping up," she pointed out, asking without asking what his point was. And it was true, since they'd finished with the ghouls the day before Lorelai had fully expected they'd be saying their usual goodbyes by dinner time. Or at least, that's what she'd have assumed if she didn't know about the bomb she had to drop on him. Despite her best attempts, over the past five months they'd still managed to fall into certain rhythms she could count on. Dean pulled a face that said you've got me there, absentmindedly playing with her hair.
"I was thinking maybe this time you could come with me."
Without thinking, Lorelai reared back as far as she could without breaking their embrace, looking at him through what she was sure were wide, alarmed eyes. For his part, Dean stayed where he was, meeting her gaze steadily and unaffected by her reaction. Jackass was probably expecting it, she realized. They both knew it was more than a request for her to just work another case together… his offhand comment about being her boyfriend the other night played in her mind… something she knew she couldn't resolve until she put all her cards on the table.
"What?" she asked, grimacing at how many notes her voice had risen. If anything, Dean seemed amused, patiently drawing her back to him and placing a rare, soft kiss on her lips, as if to emphasize his sincerity. Guilt started to build. He'd been so patient with her, more patient than she'd deserved by a longshot.
"Come with me," he repeated, his voice low. For a moment, even as the panic began to set in, Lorelai reflected that if the boy talked enough, he probably could have gotten her to do anything. It helped that she knew, underneath all the fear, it was what she'd wanted for a while now.
"Dean, I –"
"Come on, Lor. What are you worried about?" Lorelai took a deep breath, closing her eyes and focusing on the feel of his rough hand on her cheek and his arm wrapped around her waist, trying to think of a way around the inevitable.
She'd known what was coming today, but she hadn't expected it to happen like this.
"You know what I'm worried about," she muttered, struggling to wrap her mind around what she really needed to say. Dean frowned, smoothing a thumb over her cheek. The truth was, she wanted to say yes. She wanted to stop pretending that her stupid rules were working and just let herself have the first bit of happiness she'd felt in longer than she cared to admit. There was one last hurdle though, and she was willing to bet just about anything that it wasn't one they were going to be able to jump.
"That you're not my type?" he parroted back her words from months ago incredulously. "Lor, I think at this point we've well established that you are," he continued, pointedly looking down at their still-naked bodies before glancing to the clothes still strewn around the room from the night before.
"Oh, but I'm really not," she insisted, refusing to meet his eyes, surprised he'd remembered what she'd said back in Tullahoma. If only he knew what she'd meant by it.
"It's been months now," he pointed out gently. Lorelai nodded, still staring resolutely at the pectoral in front of her rather than Dean's stubbled face.
"I know."
"Is this still about what happened to Fred?" he asked tentatively. "Because Lor, I can't promise you nothing's ever going to happen like that again, it comes with the gig… but just because we're not labeling this, and you don't want to talk about it… Look, I can only speak for myself here, but call yourself my girlfriend, don't call yourself my girlfriend, if something happened to you I'd be wrecked either way. Hell, start travelling with me or stick to this whole meeting up as often as we can thing we've got going, that's not gonna change it for me either."
Lorelai bit her lip and tightened her grip, touched by his confession and beginning to drown in the anxiety that was only continuing to mount. You knew this was coming, the voice in her head spat, you should have run, or you should have gotten this over with at the beginning.
"I know that too," she whispered.
"Then what am I missing?"
She continued to chew on her lip, desperately trying to think of something she could say besides the inevitable truth. The reality was that she wanted what he was asking for. There may have still been warring factions in her head on the matter, because there was no denying she was still terrified of opening herself up again, but Dean was right – she already had, even if she hadn't meant to. The truth though, the truth was going to shatter everything, and even though the logical part of her brain had been screaming at her that it was for the best, something inside of her just wanted to hold tighter.
"Lorelai," he prodded when she didn't answer, his voice much softer than she was used to, "I'm not runnin' for the hills here. I know that you've been through some real shit, and that you have your own life, and I get that it's a big deal, but you've gotta know none of it changes this for me. I like being with you – you're this super cool, scary smart, hot as hell chick that makes me laugh, has my back when shit hits the fan, and doesn't put up with my crap. And hell if I know why, but you seem to actually like being with me too. All I'm saying is, come with me and see if we can give this a real go. Katie's back in school, you're mostly back on the road anyway, you said so yourself. What's holding you up?"
Lorelai closed her eyes and nestled her head into his chest, wrapping her arms tighter around his torso and choosing to savor what she suspected would be one of their last peaceful moments. She hoped to Merlin she was wrong about what would come next, but there was no other option. She'd thrown every other conceivable roadblock up and, to his point, there hadn't been a single thing he'd shied away from. There was only one thing left in the wings, and it was past the point of insanity to draw it out any longer.
Dean, for his part, looked down at her, clearly surprised, but tightened his own arms and kissed the top of her head, cradling him against her.
"Do me a favor and try to remember you said all that," Lorelai whispered in a resigned sort of voice. Dean snorted.
"Come on, Lor. I'm not askin' for a lifelong commitment here. I'm asking for a real chance, that's it." Lorelai took a deep breath, swallowing hard and trying to brace herself.
"I want to be with you too," she admitted softly. "I'd really like to go with you and figure all of this out. But Dean?"
"Yeah?" Lorelai felt her insides twist in guilt. She could tell by his voice he thought he'd won, that they were finally on the same page. And maybe they were in that moment, but Lorelai would have been willing to bet anything it wouldn't last.
"We need to talk before I do."
"What the hell, Lorelai?" Half an hour later found them still in the motel room, however the scene inside was anything but the same. Lorelai couldn't help but huff as she unloaded and dropped Dean's gun onto the armchair behind her while he stared, seemingly torn between complete outrage, incredulity, desire to reach for another weapon, and – the one that hurt the most – disgust, all at the same time. "You told me you were a hunter!"
Any sense of intimacy was long gone. Dean had initially been more than happy to talk to her, obviously assuming whatever information she was about to divulge would be in the same vein as the other getting-to-know-each-other moments they'd shared, and that he'd finally made the ground he wanted to. After one last heated kiss he'd gone to grab a shower while she'd gotten dressed and made coffee. He'd managed to pull on jeans before she'd started talking, and they were now standing on opposite sides of the room, fully engaged in battle.
"No, I told you I was a journalist," she quipped. "Which, coincidentally, was also not true," she admitted with a frown. It was clear, however, that Dean wasn't paying her any mind. He had already started rifling through his duffel, and she suspected his need to feel armed had won out. "And for the record, you told me you were a mechanic." Dean froze, still hunched over, pendant swinging off his bare chest and hair tousled, and looked at her disbelievingly.
"I thought you were a civilian!" he roared, and Lorelai mentally thanked Merlin for soundproofing spells. "The second I ran into you hunting a goddamn werewolf, I told you exactly what I am!"
"Exactly! What was I supposed to do? Hope I blew you good enough you wouldn't put a bullet in my brain?" He glowered back at her, his face dangerous, but she stood her ground unflinchingly.
"I still might!" It was Lorelai's turn to look at him disbelievingly before she summoned the shotgun and knife from his bag with a lazy flick of her wand, deciding it was better safe than sorry. Dean straightened up, his mouth dropping as if she'd committed some act of sacrilege.
"You can't be serious! Dean, if I were any danger to you, I could have killed you a thousand times over by now!"
It wasn't until the words were out of her mouth that she realized the stupidity in reminding him of the disadvantage he was at, never mind the fact that by then he was already fully aware she was at least as dangerous as him without any magic. The vitriol in his expression only deepened.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better? You could kill me, but you haven't? What about everyone else? How many other people have you killed?" Lorelai scoffed at him.
"Have you lost your damn mind? My job is literally protecting people, you –"
"Oh, don't try and feed me that!" he shouted over her, seeming to gain some of his confidence back the more they argued. "Sweetheart, I've been at this a lot longer than you have. Do you think you're the first witch I've dealt with?" He spat witch as if it were a dirty word. Lorelai rolled her eyes. "God, I hate witches! They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere. It's not just creepy, it's downright unsanitary." Lorelai scoffed.
"The witches you hunt aren't even really witches, and if you think I'm one of them then you're even thicker than you look," she shot back. Dean tensed and she could see his muscles twitching. The only other times she'd seen him so tightly wound had been out in the field, and with that observation came the sobering realization that, in his mind, he may as well have been.
"All of you evil sons of bitches are the same! Doesn't matter who you have to sacrifice or what black-eyed skank you have to whore yourself out to, as long as you get a little bit of power, right?" Lorelai gripped her wand tightly and counted back from ten, willing herself not to hex him into the next century and remember that he was fighting against more than 20 years of preconceived notions.
"Fuck, Dean, are you serious? I was born with my magic, you absolute idiot. I lost my mother, my brother, and my husband fighting in a war to protect the likes of you from one of those, to pull from your vocabulary, evil sons of bitches. So don't you dare presume to tell me –"
"You really think you have some moral high ground here? You've been lying to me for months!" Lorelai felt her nostrils flare.
"Gee, I wonder why."
"How the hell am I supposed to trust a word that's coming outta your mouth? How do I know that this hasn't been some big, elaborate plan to get close and get whatever you need for one of those freakin' hex bags you bitches are so fond of?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" she cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Her words died on her lips, however, as she watched Dean flinch, his eyes trained on the hand holding her wand. She didn't think he even realized he'd done it, but it still felt as though she'd been punched in the gut, and the wind fell straight out of her sails.
"Oh for fuck's sake, what?" he stormed back at her, staring warily, likely wondering what had caused her to stop so suddenly in her tracks. Lorelai opened her mouth but couldn't think of the words. Instead, she closed it and shook her head, staring blankly at a spot on the wall just over his shoulder. She'd known this was coming, it was her own fault for not pulling the plug sooner.
"Nothing," she muttered. "Dean, it's still me. You know me."
But for all the good her words did her she may as well have saved her breath. Dean glared back at her, the same cold expression she'd seen on his face countless times before, only for the first time, the hatred in his eyes was directed at her.
"All I know," he said shortly, "is that you're one of the things I'm supposed to be out there hunting."
Lorelai searched his face one last time, wishing for something that just wasn't there, before gripping her wand tightly. None of this was a surprise. There was a reason she'd prepared for this, and why she'd put it off as long as she had. Of course, that didn't make it hurt any less, and Lorelai felt a wave of emotions threatening to overtake her.
She had to get out. There was nothing more she could say to make this any better. Certainly not now in this moment. Possibly not ever.
"Goodbye, Dean." She had just enough time to register the confusion that clouded his features before she mentally conjured an image of her apartment building's lobby, and turned on the spot, disappearing with a pop.
When she opened her eyes a moment later, she was relieved to find the space largely empty, and wasted no time in heading towards the elevator, desperate to make it back to her apartment.
Of course, her apartment still felt quiet and empty with Katie being back in school, oppressively so, but it that moment it at least felt safe, and as she wearily headed down the hall towards her bathroom Lorelai was grateful for it. As she turned the hot water on and tossed her clothes into the hamper she found herself shaking her head, Fred's voice ringing once more in her ears. Self-preservation instincts of a bloody kakapo.
"Son of a bitch!" He knew the moment the popping sound had echoed through the room that she was long gone, but reflexively Dean still found himself turning every which way, searching for dark-haired witch that had been standing in front of him seconds before. She was nowhere to be found, of course, and he realized she must have packed while he was in the shower, because all of her things had vanished as well. Breathing heavily, he swore again and started sorting hurriedly through the few belongings he had in the room, suddenly feeling more than ready to get on the road to Oregon.
His mind still reeling, he was about to just start throwing everything into his duffel bag to get out to the Impala. A voice in his head, however, one that sounded suspiciously like his father's, began berating him, and instead Dean found himself dumping everything he had onto the mattress and combing through it just to be sure nothing insidious had found its way into his possessions. He hadn't thought twice about allowing Lorelai unfettered access – to him, to his car, to his stuff – and it would have been stupid to take for granted the opportunity it had afforded her.
And as he sifted through everything Dean only felt his anger growing, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the voice in his head sneering at him for ever even thinking he could have found a way around the rules. It had been too good to be true and he should have seen it coming a mile away. He'd always been a new town, new girl kind of guy for a reason – Cassie had already proven that. Just the fact that Lorelai had found a way under his skin should have raised the red flag. For all he knew she'd put under some kind of love spell and that was why he'd been unable to stop himself from continuing to pursue her.
By the time he was halfway repacked, his inspection of his things had turned from going-through-the-motions to bordering on obsessive, his paranoia growing with his rage. When he grabbed the shirt he'd been wearing the night before he nearly jumped, feeling something in the pocket, and for a moment felt vindicated. Take that! he thought to himself. She may have had him going for a while, but no unsanitary, demon-loving, bitch was going to get the last laugh on him.
Instead of a hex bag, however, a film strip fell into his open hand, and Dean felt something in his chest twitch uncomfortably as he froze, realizing what it was. Turning the paper over in his hand Dean couldn't help but be transfixed by the familiar, smiling face, or rather faces, staring back at him.
It had only been the night before that he'd pulled her into the photo booth, insisting she looked too pretty for the night not to be remembered. They'd finished with the ghouls early enough in the evening, and at her suggestion had stopped by a local carnival after cleaning up. Lorelai, of course, had immediately told him he was ridiculous and asked if that kind of cheese worked on other girls, already eyeing up a nearby funnel cake stand. In the end he'd won with a strategic kiss and subtle show of the flask he'd slipped into his jacket pocket.
There were four photos all together. It had been cheesy, a moment that would have been more appropriate in a freaking chick flick than the horror show he was used to living, but at the time it hadn't mattered. It had just felt good to be out with her; her unending energy, excitement, and quick-witted banter making him laugh until he was almost able to trick himself into feeling normal.
In the top photo, Lorelai's face was scrunched while his own hand was frozen in the middle of brushing powdered sugar off her nose – remnants of the first funnel cake she'd had that evening. They were both laughing. Next one down Lorelai was pouting, while Dean was holding her at arm's length, flask to his lips and head tipped back while, laughter still on his own face while Lorelai was trying in vain to reach for the container. Within seconds of the photo being taken he remembered her complaining that he'd lured her in there with the promise of booze, the least he could do was be a gentleman and let her have first dibs. The third photo had them kissing. It wasn't anything fire starting, but it was a real kiss all the same. His hand was tangled in her hair, her fingers traced his own stubbled jawline. Their eyes were closed, noses overlapping, lips fused and lost in the moment. And then there was the last one.
She'd pulled herself together for one normal photo, and they were both smiling happily into the camera. They each had an arm around the other, and she was tucked into his side, eyes bright, skin glowing, her head resting against him. Her dark hair framed her face, the natural loose curls a reminder of the fact that she came by her looks effortlessly. They both looked happy, could have been any regular couple off the street, and Dean felt another surge of anger flood his body. It had all been a lie. Every moment he'd shared with her for the past five fucking months, she'd been pulling the wool over his eyes.
The trash can off to the corner caught his eye, and Dean felt the muscles in his hand begin to tighten, intending to crumple the reminder of his stupidity into a ball and toss it aside. No sooner had the thick paper started to bend, however, did he find himself frozen again, this time a different emotion, one he didn't have a name for, mixing with the anger. Frowning, frustrated with himself now, he breathed in, ready again to crumple it, but found he still couldn't do it.
With a sigh, he went to toss the film strip back on the bed, prepared to continue speed packing the duffel bag and decide what to do with it later, when the second object caught his eye. It was a thin, manilla file folder, half tucked under Lorelai's pillow, the uncovered portion nearly blending in with the light sheets. Hesitantly, Dean reached out, flipping it open to see what it was.
There wasn't much inside, but seeing the contents Dean realized that, not only had Lorelai left it, but she had also fully anticipated her news not going over well. Her familiar handwriting filled the left panel, while a handful of pages and a brochure, emblazoned with MACUSA MLE, were stacked to the right. The voice in his head was nearly shrieking at him to take the file, and the damn film strip, drop it all in the bin and light it up like the Fourth of July, but Dean found his curiosity was stronger and couldn't help but thumb through the pages. He determinedly ignored whatever she'd written into the folder itself, some part of him being smart enough to realize he wasn't ready to see it, but the other stuff was surprising enough to knock some of the wind out from his wings. There was a one-sheet titled Understanding Different Magical Forces, another titled The International Statute of Secrecy: A Synopsis, something that looked like an oath, and the brochure, which had more sections than Dean cared to take note of in that moment but surprisingly seemed to be geared specifically towards hunters. It was the final, handwritten sheet that caught his attention the most. At first glance it appeared to be a list of book titles and random names – until a few of the names jumped out at him and he realized it was a list of hunters, presented almost as if they were references.
Dean dropped the file back onto the bed, closing his eyes and running a hand down his face as he took a deep breath. His hand was itching to grab his phone, but to do what he wasn't sure. There was no point in calling his dad – the verbal lashing he'd receive for getting involved with anyone in the first place, the I-told-you-so about Lorelai, would be endless, and any chance of a conversation would be over the second the word witch came up. Sam, of course, had never cared much for their dad's rules to begin with, but not only had he been out of the game for years, he hadn't spoken to Dean since he'd walked away. And besides, Dean was the one supposed to be looking out for Sam, not the other way around. Sammy didn't need this crap on his plate.
The seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes, until finally Dean slipped the film strip into the folder with the other papers and tucked it neatly into the bottom of the duffel before continuing to move through the rest of his belongings, albeit in a much less frenzied state. There was nothing else he was going to accomplish by staying any longer in the motel room. The best thing he could do was get his head back on straight, get back on the road, and circle back when the world didn't feel so upside down. He had work to do anyway.
I know, I know, don't hate me! It had to happen. You'd have a hard time convincing me that in the heat of the moment, Dean Winchester would react well to finding out his girlfriend's a witch, regardless of how he feels about her. But this is not the end, there's still plenty more to come.
I hope you all enjoyed! As always, thank you all so much for reading and for your feedback You guys are absolutely the best! I'm very excited to get into season 1 and hope you continue to follow along
See you all next week 😊