Elastic Heart

by phoenixwritesSPN

At thirteen, Victoria Evans's world was shattered when she was saved by John Winchester from a supernatural force that claimed the lives of her parents. Taught to be a hunter alongside his sons Sam and Dean, Victoria quickly discovered that she found something greater than the opportunity for vengeance, and she would do anything to protect the people she loves. *DeanxOFC, season 1*

24. Chasing Cars

We'll do it all
Everything
On our own
We don't need
Anything
Or anyone
…

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel
Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough
…

Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads
I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see
I don't know where
Confused about how, as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all

Snow Patrol — Chasing Cars

---

January, 2005
—DPOV—

One second, my mind was filled with images of long blonde hair bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, of blue eyes sparkling with joy and flickers of flames—and the next, I was jolted awake by the heavy bang of a full duffel bag hitting the table. I tossed an arm across my face to shield my eyes from the too-bright light that flickered on. Dad barked, "Time to get up," and set something else hard on the table. I peered through tired eyes, watching a drowsy and confused Tori push herself up from the other bed.

Although it was only a few feet, she felt a world away. That was something I had never thought twice about before—falling asleep alone. Sure, it was nice to have someone around, but I didn't miss it when it was over. Not the way I missed her. I stayed awake for hours, eyes pinging from the ceiling to her draped across the bed. At one point, she hugged her pillow, and all I could think was, "damn thing, that should be me."

This girl had turned me into such a sap, and she didn't even know it, but what's even weirder is how okay I was with it.

Around ten last night, when Dad called, my head was still swimming, and I didn't think anything of picking up the phone while we were in bed. However, his question about where we were right now sobered me up pretty fast. Even more when he said he wasn't far, about an hour out, and that he found a job nearby. Rather than drop a hint for us to take it, like usual, he said he wanted to work it together.

So, while Tori hurried to pull on some clothes and scrambled to the front desk to request a room with two beds instead of one, I started packing up. Empty beer bottles and colorful, partially burnt candles littered the table around the half-eaten cherry pie she surprised me with. Some melted wax had dripped onto the wood, and I could only get it off with my knife, but not without scratching the surface.

Our bag of clothes was halfway full when I realized one of my shirts was missing. I scanned the room, finding it lodged between the wall and headboard, along with Tori's bra. I tried to remember, but honestly, I wasn't even sure how that happened. Everything was a blur, but not in a drink-until-you-pass-out kind of way. A good way.

Thankfully, we reached our new room with about five minutes to spare before Dad walked in, gruffly wishing me a "Happy Birthday."

Since she'd been with us, Tori hadn't let Sam's birthday or mine go by without doing something. Telling her it was no big deal didn't fly; according to her, birthdays were not just another day—they were special. I usually didn't give a crap about that kind of stuff, but little by little, she made me care. And this time around, Happy described it perfectly.

Now, the clock on the bedside table read four a.m., but unlike us, Dad was wide awake and packing a bag. Tori huffed and rolled onto her back, her hair resting in sunny waves across the pillow, her cheeks rosy. My heart did a little flip, something it had been doing a lot in the past nine months. I had to force myself to look away.

Thankfully, Dad started explaining that he got wind of another kid going missing in the same area of Oregon that he'd been watching on and off for the past few weeks. It all took place in a small town near Portland. Fortunately, this most recent victim wasn't alone, and the person with him survived. The witness told the police he saw "a monster take his friend." No one believed him, of course, but we knew better.

"Be ready in forty. No telling if this thing wants to keep any witnesses alive," Dad said, slinging his unpacked bag over his shoulder and stomping his way outside to let us pack.

Sooner than later, I dragged myself out of bed and ran my hands over my hair to smooth its spikes. Snagging an empty duffle bag from the floor beside the dresser, I tossed in the clothes we haphazardly threw into the drawers last night.

"You gonna make me do this all by myself?" I remarked playfully, looking over my shoulder at Tori, who hadn't moved an inch.

Her chest rose and fell with a big, content sigh. "Well, you're the reason I'm so tired," she jested, leaning on her elbows. "It's only fair."

"Oh, really?" I raised an eyebrow and zipped the bag shut. "If I remember correctly, it was you keeping me up all night."

She stood and stretched her arms above her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. "And I'm sure you hated every minute of it."

I smiled. I sure as hell didn't. "Speaking of, I wanted to thank you."

Tori's brow creased. "For what?"

"Last night."

A shuffled laugh left her lips. "You don't have to thank me for that."

I chuckled, "Not just that. Yesterday—all of it."

She smiled, and the room got brighter. "You're welcome. I wanted to do more today, but that didn't really pan out."

On my way to her, I dropped the bag on the foot of the bed. My hands found her hips, fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of her shorts. "You did more than enough, trust me," I said. I leaned closer, pulse pounding in a mix of desire and adrenaline.

Tori's eyes flickered to the door, then back. "Now?" she whispered, even as she tilted her lips to meet mine.

Hearing the hesitance in her voice, I reached up to cup the side of her face. Dad was busy out there. He wouldn't be coming in for a few minutes, at least. There was nothing to worry about. "It's okay; we're good," I assured, slotting my lips over hers, clicking into place like a puzzle piece.

Feeling her smile into the kiss, I deepened it, savoring the taste of strawberries on her lips and the warmth of her body pressed against mine. She clutched my arms, nails digging in deep, sending a shiver down my spine. I didn't care. I didn't want her to let go.

Two short honks echoed throughout the room, and we had just enough time to leap away before Dad stormed in, looking critically at the half-packed bags. "We're on a time limit," he said irritably.

"Yes, sir," I answered quickly. "We won't be long."

"Hurry up and get those bags finished and loaded in the car." Dad stopped on his way to the door and glanced back at me. "And try not to leave any guns lying around this time, Dean."

My gaze dropped to the ground, preferring to focus on the worn and weathered carpet rather than the scrutinizing look in his eyes. Tori preoccupied herself by playing with her fingers.

It happened months ago at this point, but Dad refused to let it go. Tori had told him that it was her fault, that she had a headache, and it slipped her mind. The only problem was that she usually never misplaced anything when cleaning out a room, and Dad knew it. In reality, the gun was forgotten because my thoughts were consumed by what happened moments before we left. The way she kissed me—her hips pressing against mine as she wrapped her legs around my waist all because she knew our time alone was drawing to a close.

But Dad definitely didn't need to know that.

After he left, we kicked it into high gear and cleared the room in under five minutes. There wasn't much to pack, anyhow, considering Tori and I hadn't unpacked much after the switch. Just enough to make the room look lived in.

Tossing on some jeans and the first t-shirt I snagged, I hiked on my coat and headed outside to drop the bags in the Impala's trunk. I spotted Tori slipping from the room, now dressed in jeans and her puffy tan coat, and disappearing around the corner of the building. My eyes lingered on her a few beats longer than I should've allowed.

"Dean." My head snapped in Dad's direction. "Where's your head at, huh?" he asked.

"Sorry, I just, uh– probably had a little too much to drink last night," I said. It wasn't a total lie. We did drink, just not enough to leave any lasting effects.

"Well, you better shake it off. Gotta stay sharp." Dad shut the back of his truck and gave me a thick folder with pieces of newspaper sticking out. "Take this, would you? The two of you look over it on the way."

"Yes, sir." I nodded and pushed upright, forcing myself to be hyper-focused on the task, even if it was as simple as transporting a manilla folder two feet into the car.

Tori made her way to us, the tip of her nose red from the cold and carrying a handful of vending machine snacks. She plucked a bar of chocolate from the top and gave it to Dad. "Got this for you," she said.

A tight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks, Vic." He fished out his keys from his jacket and set off for the cab of his truck. "Now come on, we gotta hit the road."

Tori turned to me with a look that said I tried and slid into the car. I followed suit, started the engine, and ticked on the heat. She put the snacks down between us and picked up the folder. "What's this?" she asked, slightly shifting her back toward the door.

"Info about the job," I answered, clearing the fog and ice from the windshield with the wipers. "Dad gave it to me."

Tori settled in, ripping open a chocolate bar and taking a bite as she rifled through the stack of papers and began reading from the pages. The disappearances stretched back a couple of years. All the victims were teenagers, all in the same area of woods. The only difference is there were no bodies to show for it, just some kids who said that's where their friends planned on going. They might not be connected, but what if they were?

"My question is, how did another hunter not catch this before us? I mean, I know we're smart and all, but you'd think we wouldn't be the only ones," I said, glancing over at her as we slowed to a red light. "Or, you know, these idiots would realize that after people go missing, it's not a great place to hang out."

"Well, you know, teenagers." Tori shrugged, putting the folder down on her lap and tugging down her sleeves. "They wanna see if all those ghost stories and old wives' tales are true; scare the hell out of each other. No one wants to be the kid who backs out on a dare." Tori's phone rang, filling the small space with a flutter of notes. She answered, clicking the call on speaker. "Hey, John."

"I found a detour," he announced. "Take the next exit."

"Okay," I said, moving over a lane behind his truck. "We were looking at that folder, and it got me thinking. We should probably talk to that kid," I suggested, tapping the newest addition to the list of the forest's victims at the top of the pile. "We'd get more out of him than the feds."

Dad pondered for a moment before agreeing. "All right. You two go."

"What are you gonna do?" Tori asked.

"Pull some strings with the cops. See what else I can find out."

---

Dylan Russell, a dark-haired fifteen-year-old boy, sat on his hospital bed, mindlessly staring at the television. Butterfly bandages secured large wounds slashed across his face, just underneath his deep eyes. His mother, a slender woman with sleek charcoal-colored hair, was perched on an uncomfortable chair beside him. Her rapidly bouncing knee matched the worried look etched on her face and seared into her bright green gaze.

"Mrs. Russell?" I addressed her as we entered.

"Yes?" She eyed us curiously. "Who are you?"

"Hi." Tori flashed that killer smile that could get her whatever she wanted. "I'm Tori, that's Dean. We're Chris's cousins."

Dylan's brow furrowed. He flinched from how the movement pulled his cuts. "Cousins?" he asked. "I know Chris's cousins."

"Distant cousins," I quickly thought on my feet. "From out East. We haven't seen everyone in a while, but we came over as soon as we heard."

The teenager appeared hesitant but nodded and looked at his Mom, who remained suspiciously still. "Chris did have a pretty big family," he said.

Internally, I released a relieved breath. We got lucky there. "So, Dylan." I cleared my throat and lowered my voice. "What happened exactly? Because, you know, the cops aren't saying much."

"Chris and I were just messing around in the woods. There's a creepy old cabin out there. One of our friends dared us to go and take pictures of it. But then… uh…" Dylan hesitated, eyes darting to his Mom and back. "I turned around, and Chris was gone."

"Gone?"

Suddenly, Dylan became very focused on his plain white blanket. "I don't know what happened."

Tori and I shared a knowing look—whatever this kid saw, he didn't want to talk about it in front of his Mother. "You know, Mrs. Russell, our Mom is on her way up," I said, pointing to the hallway. "I think she'd wanna talk to you if that's all right?"

"Of course." Mrs. Russelll softly patted her son's shoulder as she stood. "I'll be right back, honey."

We headed for the hall, having a quiet conversation about nothing in particular. She seemed like a nice enough lady—a little uptight, but her son was in the hospital. Mrs. Russell pulled her bag tighter to her body and excused herself for the restroom. I slid back along the wall, stopping just outside Dylan's room, and peered in. Tori occupied one of the empty chairs not filled with Get Well Soon cards and teddy bears.

"So, you really didn't see anything?" she asked.

Dylan avoided looking at her. "Nope. Nothing," he said.

Tori leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "You can tell me, you know."

"You're just gonna think I'm crazy."

"I won't, I promise," she pushed softly. I stood up so as not to risk Dylan seeing me and hoped he'd confess. There was no telling how much longer his mother would be. "Please, Dylan, we really need to know what happened."

Fear gripped his voice as he spoke. "This guy jumped out from the trees, but he–" Dylan audibly gritted his teeth in frustration. "But he wasn't a guy. He had these– these huge claws. And he grabbed Chris, and he dragged him away."

"Claws?" Tori repeated.

"And fangs," he said. Although I felt for the kid, part of me was filled with a rush of excitement—the kind that only a hunter would understand. If my suspicions were correct, then we had a werewolf on our hands.

"And there was just one?" Tori asked.

"No," Dylan replied. My eyes ticked open. There was more than one? "When I tried to run, another came out… it tried to get me… but I got away. Chris was screaming for help, and I got away. I didn't even try to do anything," he spat bitterly.

Tori's tone took on a heavy sadness. I could imagine the look on her face: eyes downcast, lips falling into a drooping line, and a shadow of sorrow clouding her bright features. "There was nothing you could've done," she said.

Dylan chuckled cynically. "You don't know that."

Arguing that she did, indeed, know wouldn't help anybody, and she knew that. The drawn-out silence signaled that their conversation was coming to an end. Tori probably sensed it, too. "Thanks, Dylan," she said. "Try not to be so hard on yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

When she stepped into the hall, she didn't even look surprised to see me eavesdropping. "Kid's been through hell," I said.

Tori chewed her bottom lip. "He's a wreck, and he can't even talk to anybody about it. It sucks."

"At least he got to talk to you," I said, but it did nothing to smooth the worry lines carved between her brows. I took her hand and squeezed. "He'll bounce back."

Mrs. Russell came down the hall, making a beeline in our direction, eying our clasped hands. We promptly let each other go. "Is your mother here yet?" she asked.

"Oh, about that." I took my cell from my pocket and flicked it open, pretending to read a message that wasn't there. "She's running late. Traffic. We don't want to keep you waiting."

"Well, whenever she arrives, you know where to find me," she said and gave us her condolences. While she ducked back into the hospital room, Tori and I headed for the elevator. I pressed the down arrow and looked over my shoulder for any passersby. A doctor was busy scanning a patient folder at the nurse's station, but the hall was empty.

"So, a creepy cabin in the woods, huh? Maybe we could sneak out there," I said with a wink. Tori rolled her eyes. "What? It'd be a fun date!"

"Sneaking off to a monster's hideout is a fun date?" she asked, the twinkle in her eye betraying her serious tone.

"It could be! It's all in the presentation." I waved nonchalantly as the elevator doors opened and gestured for her to enter first. "I'll take care of it, don't worry."

"How romantic," Tori joked, stepping in and pressing the first-floor button.

The tips of my ears burned. "What can I say?" I followed and bumped my elbow into hers. "You have that effect on me."

Her eyes smiled. "Glad to hear it."

We had about four more floors to go when she gave a gentle pull on the front of my jacket, drawing me closer, our breath mingling in the stuffy air. Our job was still very much on my mind, but as our lips met, it felt like time slowed, the world around us fading into nothingness.

A beep signaled we had reached our destination, and the elevator stopped as we hit the first floor. Tori reluctantly pulled away as the doors opened, but I didn't let her go far, keeping my arm tucked around her waist.

---

Even during the short ten-minute drive from the hospital to a cafe down the street, the temperature outside plummeted several degrees. Getting coffee was a practical move—we needed the energy, but more than that, a nice hot cup would warm Tori's hands. I could tell her fingers were freezing without even touching them because she kept them tucked between her knees, and her shoulders were hunched despite the heavy coat she wore and the heat cranked up in the car.

We got out, carefully avoiding the slippery patches of ice littering the asphalt, and headed inside. A wash of warmth hit us, heating our cold-prickled skin. The rich smell of coffee filled my nose. The woman behind the counter looked like she'd rather be anywhere else right now, and I couldn't blame her. A thin mist of rain started falling from the sky. I could almost feel the icicles pelting my skin.

This time, while ordering our coffee—one with cream and sugar and one black—we added an extra for Dad, something we hadn't had to do in months. Having him back with us again gave me a strange mix of relief and anxiety. Lying to him was much easier when we weren't face to face.

Every once in a while, the idea that we should just bite the bullet and be honest about what was going on would float in the back of my mind, but then my heart would try to punch its way out of my chest, and I'd drop it.

Tori had only been with us for a couple of months when Dad made it explicitly clear that he wasn't in favor of any budding feelings we might have had for each other. It wasn't the easiest thing for a teenage boy to turn off. Not when the pretty girl he had a crush on was right there 24/7. But I knew I had to do it. For Dad, for Tori. I wanted her to feel comfortable with us, to feel safe. And she did. She still does.

In the long run, though, seeing her with other guys became more difficult to handle. That deep-seated jealousy became more challenging to ignore and continuously crawled to the surface, whether I wanted to fess up to it or not.

My decision to tell her how I felt, scary as it was, wasn't made lightly. I knew it would change things, but I also knew I had to try—to make her stay. Everything stemming from that action this past year was the best bonus I could ask for. For a long time, she and I together was a fantasy. Now that I had it for real, I couldn't fathom the thought of us not being… us.

Tori sniffled and rubbed her nose, adding to its redness. I beckoned her into my arms. She gladly accepted, settling herself against my chest. All those worries I had melted away. We were always close, always got each other. But this, it was just… different. It felt right, natural, to hold her like this. Dumb as it sounded, it's like we were made for it. This was probably the closest I'd ever gotten to believing in destiny of any kind. I was willing to do anything to protect that. Even lie to Dad.

The barista called my name and slid a cup holder with three to-go cups stuck inside. I found Tori's and gave it to her. She eagerly took it and cradled it for warmth.

"I gotta get you some mittens," I said as we set off for the door, dodging the line of customers that had accumulated.

"Ha, ha," Tori deadpanned, lagging behind to soak up the last bit of heat from the coffee shop before stepping out into the cold with me. "I can't help that it's freezing."

"Yeah, winter's not messing around this year. Guess that means more coffee runs."

"Fine by me," she said, blowing into her palms to warm them. "Long as you're buying."

---

Once settled in the car, Dad called and told me which motel he picked, and we headed over. It was smaller than others, with half of the rooms detached from the main building and the brown brick chipping away. I pulled the Impala alongside Dad's truck and shut off the engine. I reached the room with Tori in tow, not too close as to set off any alarm bells, but not too far that if she slipped on the icy ground, I wouldn't be there to catch her, and knocked on the door.

Shuffling came from the other side, followed by locks unlatching and the knob twisting. Dad opened the door and ushered us into the toasty room. Tori immediately looked more relaxed. I gave Dad his coffee, and he headed straight back for the small, rickety table by the window, his focus divided between an old map and his journal. "What did you kids find out?" he asked.

"Well, Dylan said they were attacked by people with claws and fangs," Tori informed, sitting on the couch and sipping her coffee.

"More than one?"

"He said two."

"There's some kind of cabin out there," I added, plopping on the edge of the bed closest to the table. The springs squeaked and groaned. "They were dared to go."

Dad got that look, the one that said he knew what we were up against. I didn't doubt his instincts for a second. "When the cops found that kid, his heart was ripped clean from his chest," he said.

"So… it's a werewolf?" I said eagerly.

Dad nodded once. "Yes."

I smiled. "Awesome."

Shutting his journal, Dad centered the map before him. He picked up a pen and called us over. "According to the cops, Chris and Dylan got about this far before they were attacked." He drew a line from the forest's entrance to about halfway into the thick of it. "They found Chris here," he said, drawing another line diagonally down and marking it with an X.

"He almost got out," Tori muttered sadly.

An extra pang of sympathy rattled through me for Chris. I came very close to wrapping an arm around her, then stopped myself at the last second.

"Almost doesn't count for much out here," Dad said, pushing the map away and clicking the pen shut. "Let's get everything prepped. We'll head out after nightfall."

---

Once our pistols were full of silver bullets and the sun disappeared behind the mountains, we gathered around Dad's truck at the motel, a sense of anticipation buzzing between us.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked, glancing between Tori and Dad.

"First, we have to figure out how many are out there," Dad said, focusing on the bag he zipped shut. "I have an idea to draw them out. But… it's risky."

Tori tucked her gun into her belt and said, "What is it?"

He sighed, and his breath filled the air. "You two go in first; lure them out."

A pit lodged in the center of my stomach. I couldn't shake it, no matter how much I tried. Tori wasn't new to this world. She'd been out here chasing ghouls and ghosts for the better part of the past ten years, but something about the darkness of those woods… the unknown number of werewolves. I just wanted her to be safe.

My apprehensive expression latched onto Tori, who was already nodding in agreement, much to my surprise. "That could work," she said, chewing her lip.
"What's wrong, Dean?" Dad questioned, zeroing in on my unease.

"Nothing, just–" I absentmindedly scratched my eyebrow for something to do with my hands and looked at Tori. "Maybe you should hang back." I shrugged, trying to play it off under Dad's scrutinizing gaze. "I mean, what if they catch on or something?"

"What?" she wondered, head cocked to the side.

"It could be dangerous."

"So, what? You go alone?" Tori challenged, arms folded.

Dad studied us for a moment, then spoke, his voice gruff and unyielding. "It's not safe for you to go by yourself, Dean." His tone was final, like a judge's gavel coming down in a courtroom, leaving no room for argument.

Tori could spot my discomfort from miles away and playfully bumped her elbow into my arm in an attempt to lighten my mood. "Come on, they won't have a clue. I mean, we can play dumb, right?" she teased.

"Do it every day," I quipped, forcing my tense limbs to move and shut the arsenal in the trunk. Tori chuckled, the light sound filling the night air and somehow smoothing my frayed nerves.

Dad's brows furrowed, almost touching. He didn't crack a smile. "Don't go getting any ideas once we leave, either," he said offhandedly, but really it was another order. "You two scout the area. Stay vigilant. Be ready. I'll be right behind you."

The plan was set in stone now, and we had to follow through, so I nodded. "Okay."

With Dad disappearing into his truck, Tori and I piled into the Impala. "What was that about?" she asked as soon as we were sealed inside.

The familiar leather of the steering wheel felt reassuring under my hands. I tried to keep my tone light, hoping to ease the worry in her voice. "It was nothing."

Tori's left eyebrow lifted at the tail end. "Dean." That's all she needed to say to convey how little she believed me.

"Look, werewolves can be tough. The last time we hunted one—and it was only one—it messed me up pretty bad, remember?" I asked. I was sixteen. It was ten years ago, but I'd never forget how deep her concern for me ran, even then. The way her blueberry eyes widened in fear after Dad and I returned to the motel with my arms covered in splotchy red bruises and cuts. I couldn't recall when someone had shown such fervent care before that. Other than Bobby. Sometimes, Sam, when he was a kid.

Now, sitting across from me in the Impala, Tori's gaze took on a similar tone. "Of course, I remember. Why do you think I don't want you going alone?" She sneakily snaked her hand across the seat and rested it on my leg, out of Dad's view. "We're in this together." A smile tugged on her lips. "You're stuck with me."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." I mirrored her expression with a lopsided grin. "I hit the jackpot."

---

Beside us, Dad hit his truck's horn twice, signaling his impatience to get going. The motel's neon sign flickered in the distance as we pulled away, heading toward the bleakness of the forest. The thought of what might lay ahead quickened my pulse, but I pushed it aside. There was no room for doubt, not with my girl by my side.

Dirt kicked up from the tires, coating the sides of the Impala as I sped down the dirt road leading to the entrance of Forest Park. A circle of bright yellow crime scene tape was tied to some trees, reflecting off the car's headlights and blaring through the monotonous white and green landscape. I pulled up alongside the grassline.

"Peer pressure's one hell of a thing to make those kids come out here," Tori said, peering up through the passenger window at the tall, overhanging trees. The moonlight barely pierced the thick canopy of the Oregon woods, casting an eerie glow on the snow-covered ground.

"Yeah," I replied, looking over at a trampled trail covered by a thin layer of ice. "But whatever's out there, we'll handle it."

With that, we got out and began walking through the brush, eventually going so far that we couldn't see the car anymore. We moved cautiously, every crunch of snow and snap of twigs under our boots sounding deafening in the otherwise silent forest.

The waiting was the hardest part; every rustle and snap of a twig set my nerves on edge. "How far back do you think it is?" I wondered, hoping to sound as dumb as we looked.

"Hopefully, not too far," Tori replied, gripping her flashlight tighter and keeping her clueless persona intact.

After what felt like forever, I could finally make out a faint light in the distance. The closer we trudged, the clearer I could see. Dying candlelight flickered on the other side of a frosted window, half-covered in a torn curtain. I stepped onto the partially swept cobblestone pathway leading toward the cabin. No sooner than when my boot touched the ground, a sharp rustle echoed to our left. Tori's breath coated the air, forming thin, white clouds in the freezing night. Her hands twitched toward her gun, fingers flexing in anticipation.

I took a sideways step, scanning the treeline for signs of life when a deep, grit-filled growl tumbled from the darkness. Tori's gaze connected to mine for a fraction of a second, but it told me everything I needed to know. She had my back, and I had hers.

Suddenly, a hulking figure burst from the underbrush, moving faster than any human could ever hope to. I didn't hesitate, firing two shots in quick succession, each one hitting the werewolf square in the chest. It crumbled to the ground with a pained snarl, but there was no time for gloating, not when another lunged out of the shadows, eyes lit with hunger and vengeance. I barely had time to turn when Tori fired three rapid shots that hit their mark with precision. The werewolf staggered, collapsing in a heap as crimson blood spread across the snow.

The forest fell silent. No rustling leaves, no insects buzzing, just the heavy echo of our breaths. "Nice one," I said, unable to hide the pride that surged through me.

Tori flashed me a small, triumphant smile. "Thanks."

I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand and adjusted my grip on the pistol. "Guess these were the two we were looking for, huh?"

"Looks that way," she agreed, her voice steady but still measured.

"Well," I let out a heavy breath, finally allowing myself a moment to feel the relief wash over me. All the panicking I'd done before seemed so ridiculous now. "That wasn't so bad."

"Yeah," Tori chuckled, cautiously moving closer to her kill, her steps steady but still measured. "No big deal."

"We should check out the cabin, though. Just to be sure," I said. In the mere seconds it took me to turn toward the dilapidated structure, a flash of movement caught my eye—a figure tearing through the trees behind Tori, moving for her with terrifying speed. It lunged, teeth bared, and brandished claws connecting to her arm long before I could warn her.

She cried out as the force of his blow sent her flying, her body slamming into a tree trunk with a sickening crack that bounced through the dark, overcast skies.

I lifted my pistol and squeezed the trigger, but the werewolf moved at the last second, and the bullet veered off course, striking his shoulder instead of his chest. He let out a sharp, angry whine and bolted, leaping over fallen tree limbs and patches of snow as if they were nothing. Despite the biting cold, heat surged through me, spreading from the top of my head to the soles of my feet—an anger so intense it blurred my vision. I sprang into action, ready to tear through the forest until I found him. But then, I caught sight of Tori curled up on the ground. It was like all the air had been sucked from my lungs, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Get her to the car, Dean! I've got this!" Dad's voice cut through the chaos, and I turned just in time to see him charging past me, disappearing into the brush without a second thought. The crunch of leaves and his heavy footfalls faded into the distance as I rushed to Tori's side, boots slipping across the icy grass until I came to a crashing halt beside her.

Dark red streams soaked through her coat at the shoulder, rippling down her arm. I grabbed it to put pressure on the wound. She cried out and gritted her teeth so hard the clink echoed off the trees. I muttered, "I'm sorry," over and over as though it would take away her pain. I wished it would. "We gotta get out of here," I determined when pressure alone wouldn't ease up the bleeding.

Pushing to my feet, I attempted to scoop Tori in my arms, but she refused. "I can walk," she said.

I shook my head. "No way."

"I can," she insisted, clawing at my arms to stand. I knew she wouldn't take no for an answer, so I let her go for now but was more than prepared to carry her if needed.

Several more gunshots bounced off the trees in the distance behind us. I made sure to keep a hand on her arm, holding as much pressure to her wound as I could. By the time we reached the car, Tori complained that the fingers on her left hand were going numb. All I could smell was the piercing, putrid scent of copper that clung to her skin and clothes, but I wouldn't let it show how much it scared me. She needed me to be strong.

Ensuring she was comfortably situated in the back of the Impala with her feet planted on the ground, I peeled away her jacket to inspect her injuries. The gashes weren't as nasty as I thought, but the skin at her elbow was bright red and swelling fast. I got some supplies from the trunk—a half-used roll of gauze and some alcohol—and got to work cleaning and bandaging her wounds.

Tori hissed as the liquid washed over her cuts, but otherwise, she remained calm. Enough to crack a joke. "What do you think? Do we have to amputate?"

My laugh broke through my nervousness. "I think you're gonna be all right," I said, gently tracing my thumb across her cheek. It was rough from the dried blood I tried and failed to remove with a rag. I drew her nearer, careful not to pull too hard on the nape of her neck, until our lips brushed.

Pounding footsteps rushed toward us, putting us both on edge. I took a protective stance before Tori, reaching for my gun until Dad broke through the treeline. I relaxed, if only slightly, and allowed a few inches between her and me as he came closer.

My voice was surprisingly steady, given the circumstances. "Dad, did you–"

"It's gone," he replied, tone breathless and sharp. His frustration morphed into blanched worry when he saw all the blood. With a closer look at her arm, he deemed she needed to go to the hospital. I was going to take her regardless but kept that information to myself as I ripped a piece of tape with my teeth to hold her makeshift bandage together and jumped into the driver's seat.

---

Thankfully, the emergency room wasn't too busy, and they bought my crap story about us being on a camping trip when a wolf attacked because, of course, they did. People turn a blind eye to suspicious things nearly all the time.

Even though Tori insisted she could walk, nobody bothered to listen. The nurse brought out a wheelchair that she very begrudgingly sat down on, letting out a loud sigh as she went to make sure we all knew how unhappy she was. As the nurse wheeled her through the large double doors, Tori looked back to find me.

I straightened my drooping shoulders and put on a brave face, starting to follow.

Another nurse rushed up, holding up his hands. "Sorry, sir, I can't let you do that," he said.

"Why not?" I asked, tone short.

"We need to examine her. You can see her once that's all done."

I almost argued that I could and should be there for all that but then stopped myself. I needed to listen if I wanted her to be properly cared for. No matter how stupid I thought it was.

Tori locked her eyes on me until the doors shut with her on the other side. I turned and was met with Dad's blank stare. His eyes bore into me for a few solid seconds before he sat in the waiting room. With nowhere else to go and wait, I followed. Some news station on TV was talking about Chris's death. I sneered at the overhead shot of the woods we'd just been in, and my knee bounced. I knew Tori would be okay. She'd been through enough that this was just a minor setback. However, knowing that didn't make seeing her hurt any easier.

"Is there something you wanna tell me, Dean?" Dad asked out of the clear blue.

I tapped the toe of my boot on the ground in thought. "I don't think so."

"I think you do." He was so unrelenting I didn't know what to make of it. I ran through the events of the last couple of days; I'd done everything he asked. What was there to be mad about?

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"What?" I laughed at the absurdity of the question but sobered up when his seriousness sunk in. "No, sir. What are you–"

"I saw you. And Victoria," he interrupted.

Ice water ran through my veins, so hard jolts of pain jabbed me. "Dad–"

"How long?"

My pulse thumped in my ears so loud I could barely hear anything else. "We were going to tell you."

Disbelief and disappointment carved into his face when I didn't try to deny it. His reaction was far from accepting, far from understanding. It was a storm brewing on the horizon, dark and foreboding, ready to unleash its fury. "How long, Dean," he repeated through gritted teeth. His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. His silence demanded an explanation, demanded justification for this betrayal.

I looked down and steeled myself for the inevitable. "A year," I said.

There was a moment—a fraction of a second—where shock covered Dad's face. But it wasn't a regular shock. It was obvious how blown away he was. Then, his jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "You've been lying to me for a year?" he said.

I scrambled to fix it all. "I can explain–"

"No, you can't. You betrayed an order, and for what? A fling with someone you're supposed to protect?"

Getting accusations slung my way from him wasn't new. I never did enough, never did anything right, but that last one? It was a flame-tipped arrow to the chest. Her well-being always came first; there was nothing I wouldn't do to keep her safe. I squared my shoulders, unable to bite back my anger.

"She means a hell of a lot more to me than that. And I do protect her," I argued for the first time in a long time. "I'm not the reason she got hurt. So, you can yell at me, and you can rip me apart for lying to you, fine—but you can't tell me that I don't take care of her. I always have."

Whether it was because he couldn't find the words or because if he started yelling, he'd never stop, I didn't know, but for a brief moment, Dad was rendered speechless. Before he could decide what to do, soft footsteps approached.

The nurse who had taken Tori in for treatment stopped behind my chair. "Shane? Chloe is asking for you," he told me, using our aliases.

Out of force of habit, I looked to Dad. His eyebrows lifted, then sank in a gesture that flippantly said do whatever you want. I could feel Dad's gaze drilling into my back the entire way, following the nurse into the hospital hallway. Over and over, I heard his voice in my head saying, "End it." The words bounced off the walls of my mind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop their ricocheting.

The nurse showed me to a small private room where Tori lay on a stiff-looking bed. Her thick coat and long-sleeve shirt were folded in a tidy pile on the bedside table, leaving her in only her gray tank top. Her left arm was draped across her midsection, the top half wrapped in bandages, and her left leg dangling over the mattress, blue-sock-cover-foot brushing the linoleum tile. She studied the white sheets below while a stocky brunette in blue scrubs adjusted the gauze around her shoulder. I lightly rapped my knuckles on the door.

When Tori saw me, her face lit with relief. I couldn't help but think how that look of contentment would fall if she knew the news I carried. The nurse gave me a small, polite smile before mentioning that we should call if we needed anything and exiting the room.

I pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down, nodding to Tori's feet with a grin. "Nice socks," I commented.

Tori chuckled. "Sexy, right?"

"Well, you make anything look good."

She brought her left leg up beside her right and wiggled all her toes. "Even these bad boys?"

I nodded. "Oh, especially those."

We shared genuine smiles for a moment until my eyes settled on her shoulder again, and a rush of emotion from the last few hours came flooding back. "They treating you good?" I asked, failing to swallow the lump in my throat.

Tori bobbed her head, and her hair fell around her shoulders. It looked like she'd raked her fingers through it a good dozen times, but it still fell into perfect champagne waves. She gestured to her bandages and winced. "Got a few stitches, and I need to wear this stupid stuff for a couple of weeks."

"I'm so sorry," I said quietly.

Confused eyes peered up at me through a rim of thick lashes. "This isn't your fault. What are you sorry for?"

I laughed, but the sound came out short and blunt—more like a scoff. "Everything."

Tori's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing as she searched my face for some kind of clarity. "What does that even mean?"

The thought of adding to her stress, to pile more onto her already exhausted self, felt like the last thing she needed. "It's nothing," I lied, my voice rougher than I intended.

"Bullshit," she shot back without missing a beat. Her gaze sharpened, cutting right through me. "Something's going on. Don't shut me out. Please."

I clenched my jaw, fighting the instinct to retreat behind the walls I'd spent years building. The same ones she slowly started chipping away from the moment we met. When I looked into her eyes—tired but still burning with that stubborn, unyielding fire—I knew she deserved the truth. She deserved to be prepared for when Dad came up here and ripped us apart. I took a deep breath, the words feeling like lead in my throat. "Dad knows. About us."

Tori shifted to a frozen state of shock, and her skin—which was already pale from losing all that blood—turned ashen. "What? How?"

"Said he saw us at the car."

Her chest rose and fell in rapid bids for air. "Is he mad?"

I tried to rub the stress from my face, but it wouldn't budge. I opted to leave out the more rough details. "He's not happy."

"So what—" Her eyes fluttered as she attempted to piece together our next steps. "What does that mean?"

My heart skipped a beat when her eyes found mine. Getting the words out cut my breaths short and twisted my stomach into knots, but pushing through mattered now more than ever. I didn't know what would happen when we walked out those doors, so she had to know how I felt without a shadow of a doubt. "I don't know. But no matter what happens, I, uh– I just wanted you to know that–" My throat tightened like an invisible fist had clamped around it. I swallowed hard, forcing it away. "I love you."

Surprise flickered across her face, chased by happiness, but it didn't last. Sadness settled in her eyes, heavy and raw, as the meaning behind my words fully hit her. "I love you, too," she whispered, her voice fragile, and her hands clenched at her sides like she was struggling to hold onto an invisible string that tried to slip away. "So, this is it?"

Everything around us wobbled like the world was spinning off its axis, but she remained crystal clear—her face, her voice, all of it locked in my mind. I could see in her eyes the same dread I felt. Is this how it ends? The thought hammered through my head, driving every muscle in my body to fight the overwhelming sense of finality.

"It can't be," I choked.

"But would it be easier?" she asked, catching me off guard. There was a vulnerability in her voice, a resignation that hit me like a tidal wave.

"Is that what you want?" I asked, ignoring her question. It didn't matter what I thought, it didn't matter if I had a dozen answers lined up; none of it would make a difference if that were what she genuinely wanted.

Tori shook her head and exhaled sharply like she'd been punched in the gut. "No!" she whispered bluntly. "Of course not. I—I don't know what I'd do without you."

The overwhelming pain in her sky-blue eyes, now shrouded with clouds of unshed tears, pierced my chest so deeply that the voice in my head—the one that sounded like Dad—crashed to the ground and shattered into pieces. Its shards were sharp, and the guilt they carried stabbed me, but I'd be damned if I would allow it to take her away. I couldn't accept it.

Not now. Not ever.

"When I promised you that nothing would stop this," I said, my voice catching on the edge of my resolve. I reached across the space between us and held her hand. "I meant it. Nothing's gonna change that." My thumb brushed across her knuckles. "I can't lose you, Cherry Pie."

Despite her best efforts, tears streamed down her cheeks and pooled at her collarbone. "I can't lose you, either," Tori murmured and held my hand tighter, her grip firm despite the tremor in her hand that betrayed her fear. "And I won't," she declared, spine straightening. "We're going to talk to him."

"Think it'll be that easy?" I asked, trying to appear less nervous about the idea than I actually was.

Tori smiled, a soft, bittersweet curve of her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes but held an unmistakable strength. "I think this is worth fighting for. Even if it isn't easy."

A surge of warmth flooded my chest at her determination, pride swelling in the face of all the uncertainty. I squeezed her hand gently, letting the comfort of that small connection settle between us. "I do, too."

---

Several nurses visited the room over the next few hours to check on Tori's sutures. There wasn't a single peep from Dad. I kept looking at the door, unease in my stomach growing each minute I expected him to show up. When he didn't, I would relax, but the calm didn't last long.

Eventually, the next nurse to enter the room carried discharge papers, and we got ready to leave. I helped Tori to her feet, supporting her as we made our way out of the hospital, no matter how much she complained she didn't need it. It wasn't until I got her settled in the Impala's passenger seat that I noticed Dad was nowhere to be found and that his truck was gone, too. I didn't linger on that very long, however, not when I heard Tori's head softly plonk against the window. Her quiet snores came next, fanning out across the glass.

I carefully backed out of the parking space and eased down the road to the motel, bracing for the impact of Dad waiting for us.

My mind conjured up all the different scenarios, each more distressing than the last. Every possibility swirled, making it hard to focus on the road. Would he be angry? Would he be disappointed? Maybe he would try to remain calm, but a relentless interrogation would cut harder than any outburst ever could.

In the quiet of the car, Tori shifted, eyes still shut, until her cheek pressed against my shoulder. The red light ahead was timed almost perfectly, allowing me to switch my attention to her face. Her high cheekbones were softened by the dim glow of the street lights, and her golden hair framed her face. Her full lips parted slightly in sleep. Even in the midst of exhaustion, she radiated strength—resilience—and confirmed what I already knew deep down in my bones. No matter what happened, we'd come out on the other side of this. Of anything.

I kissed the top of her head and gently switched my foot from the brake to the gas when the light turned green. The rest of the drive was quiet, the early morning light casting long shadows on the blacktop. After spending an entire sleepless night in the hospital, we could both use some rest. And with all she'd been through, Tori significantly more than me.

Each mile that ticked closer to the motel had me gripping the wheel tighter, but I vowed to face this head-on. Having her by my side gave me the strength to endure whatever could come next. But, to my shock, when I pulled into the lot, Dad's truck was nowhere to be found.

Where had he gone? Was he at least safe? I parked outside our room and looked over at Tori, who started to wake up and gently rubbed her eyes. "We're here already?" she asked.

I let the engine run to keep the car warm. "Yeah, we are."

Tori blinked, adjusting to her surroundings. "Where's John?"

"I don't know."

Concern drenched her features despite the chaos we'd been through tonight. "You think he's okay?"

I put on a brave face and hoped those pain pills kicked in just enough that she couldn't laser straight through me like she usually did. "I'm sure he's fine. Let's get you inside, then we can call."

Tori nodded, but the movement was sluggish, and getting her in that bed quickly became my number one priority. This time, she didn't complain when I offered her support and leaned her entire body weight against me as we approached the door.

The room was still warm, the heater running between random clunks that didn't sound too promising. Almost immediately, Tori sank onto the bed furthest from the door. She swayed while I helped her out of her coat and boots. Once she was a little more comfortable, I guided her under the comforter and made sure to loosen the corner by her feet because I knew how much she hated it being pulled too tight.

As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light, and I dropped into a chair by the window, pulling out my phone along the way. The button clicked as I ticked down the list until I reached Dad. My finger hovered over the OK for a few seconds before I finally pressed it and held the phone to my ear. It rang and rang and rang again, then the line beeped.

My muscles clenched, and my airways tightened. Was he really that mad? So upset he'd ignore me?

"This is John Winchester. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you when I can."

"Hey, Dad, I just wanted to let you know that Tori is out of the hospital." I cleared my throat so hard it stung. "We're at the motel, and I uh– I guess we'll stay put for a few days." I held the phone tighter. "If you get this, please… call me back. I want to talk to you. We both do."

I snapped my cell shut and quietly set it on the table. That overwhelming feeling of guilt hit me again, bogging down every inch of my mind. This was the same exact thing Dad did almost four years ago when Sam left. He disappeared, didn't answer his phone, and then stumbled back forty-eight hours later with a hangover, bruises, and a few cuts that would turn into new scars. The only difference this time around was that he might not have a reason to come back.

My burning eyes landed on the small bump under the covers, with just a bit of blonde peeking from the top. The one person I could talk to about this was sound asleep. I didn't want to pile brick after brick on her just to take their weight off me, anyway. What I did want to do, however, was be near her—forget about the past twenty-four hours and everything else.

So, although it wasn't easy to get my legs to carry me, that's what I did. I kicked off my boots and shrugged off my jacket, tossing it beside hers on the other mattress, and climbed into bed behind Tori. She stirred and twisted until she faced me, several strands of hair falling across her face.

Her eyes were still closed when she slurred, "Did he answer?"

"No," I replied, pushing her long bangs out of her face.

Tori pried her eyelashes apart and began to move upright. "We have to go look for him," she said.

"Are you kidding?" I scoffed. "You can barely keep your eyes open." I gently guided her back down to the mattress. Maybe she was simply too exhausted, but she didn't put up much of a fight.

"He could be hurt; we don't know what happened," Tori mumbled.

"Tor, you had one hell of a day. You need to recharge, all right?" I gave her a soft squeeze on the hip. She looked at me with exhausted eyes, but there was a hint of defiance there, too.

"I'm not tired," she protested weakly.

"Come on, we both know that's not true," I countered with a knowing smile. "Besides, it's not just about being tired. You got banged up out there. You need time to recoup," I added, trying to reason with her.

"Because that's what you do whenever you get hurt, right?" she challenged, a lazy eyebrow raised. "Recoup?"

"Well, I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed."

Even in her tired state, she managed to roll her eyes in disappointment. "Don't say that."

"Look, we'll figure everything out in the morning," I countered, hoping she'd give in.

Tori sighed, but I could see her resistance fading. "Fine. But only 'cause you asked so nicely," she relented, words sloshing together.

I chuckled. "That's my girl."

With that, I helped her settle under the blankets, ensuring she was comfortable before reaching across her to turn off the light. She sighed contentedly as I wrapped her in my arms. Her breathing slowly evened out, telling me she had finally fallen asleep again. Try as I might, I couldn't follow along. My mind buzzed with worry and uncertainty.

Despite my attempts to reassure her, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Dad's absence brought on. It stirred up memories of past disappearances, of close calls. As much as I wanted to believe everything would be okay, I knew we were facing an uphill battle.

I buried my face in Tori's hair and breathed deeply. Even after being outside and in the hospital, I could still smell her shampoo; the scent of strawberries clung to her and filled my lungs. I released a heavy breath, one that I felt I'd been holding in forever, and held her a little tighter as exhaustion caught up with me.

---

—JPOV—

In my hands was a chipped ceramic mug, scratches showing years of use going up and down the sides. The coffee inside had long since gone cold, but I wasn't drinking it for the taste. It was to keep me alert, to occupy my mind. Hours of driving through pitch-black backroads with no signal or people around for miles didn't quite do the trick, so when I found this small diner, I jumped at the chance to stretch my legs.

My thoughts kept returning to the hospital waiting room, where I watched Dean disappear through the double doors that led to Victoria. Even now, frustration bubbled from deep within and radiated to the surface. I clenched my teeth and shifted in the squeaky leather booth at the very back of the near-empty diner.

I'd always been aware of their feelings for each other. It was apparent as soon as Vic came to live with us. But on good days—without distractions—this life tended to chew people up and spit them out. I wanted these kids to have a fighting chance. Giving into hormones and diving into a relationship at such a young age would've been a threat to everything we worked so hard for—a threat to their safety.

I couldn't have that.

So, when I put my foot down all those years ago, I thought that was the end of it. It wasn't easy to do. None of this was, but it's all been necessary. Apparently, I was naive enough to think the passing of time had diminished their feelings. How I missed them only getting stronger, I wasn't sure. Blind couldn't begin to describe it.

It wasn't that I didn't want them to be happy. No, it was the exact opposite. I wanted a world where they could live their lives. Real lives. Happy lives. Whatever that meant for them, it didn't matter. But in order to get there, boundaries had to be set. Lines had to be drawn. Rules had to be followed. Focus had to be kept of utmost importance. It was a means to an end; it had always been from the start.

But out of all the instructions I'd given them, the more important thing I specifically asked them not to do was lie to me. And that's exactly what they did. For an entire year, they lied.

A pager beeped across the room, reminiscent of the gently chirping machines that filled the hospital's hallways. The sound brought me back to when I had every intention of letting Dean and Victoria know how much they disappointed me. The nurse didn't try to stop me when I rose from the waiting room chair and stormed through the same doors Dean had moments earlier. I rehearsed every word I'd throw at them, but as I reached her room, my pace slowed.

The door was left open just a crack, enough for me to catch their voices, low and hushed. They spoke of love and promises... of being unable to lose each other. And I stood there, frozen, my chest tightening with something that wasn't wholly anger anymore.

Although they tried to remain strong, there was an unmissable edge of fear in their voices, one I recognized all too well. It was the same thing I'd felt every day since Mary was taken from me.

Rather than burst in as I had initially planned, I left. I got in my truck and drove.

The sound of shuffled footsteps called my attention back to the present, and the waitress ambled over to fill up my mug, dragging herself on legs that were no doubt made heavy by her night shift. We weren't far from a truck stop. People wandered in and out at all hours. She forced a smile as she topped off my coffee, but her happiness fell the moment she turned for the kitchen.

My phone vibrated twice in my pocket. I fished it out to find a voicemail left by Dean two hours ago flashing across the screen. I dug my nails into the plastic and hit play, pressing the cell to my ear.

"Hey, Dad, I just wanted to let you know that Tori is out of the hospital." Dean cleared his throat sharply. I shut my eyes and let out a breath. "We're at the motel, and I uh– I guess we'll stay put for a few days. If you get this, please… call me back. I want to talk to you. We both do."

Dean's tone was firm but trembled toward the end of his sentences, which was very unlike him. My chest tightened at the sound. It killed me not to call him back while I had a decent signal, but I snapped the phone shut and stuffed it into my pocket to keep from hitting Redial. I knew myself all too well. If I spoke to them now, it would only escalate. I didn't want to risk losing the only kids I had left. I didn't want history to repeat itself. So, I had to wait until I settled the score in my head.

The bell above the door chimed as a few truck drivers stumbled in, their voices gruff in a mix of gossip and disbelief. "You hear about that housefire over in Medford?" one of them asked.

"No," another said as they slid into a booth. "What happened?"

"Young couple just moved in, and the second floor burnt to a crisp. They're saying it started from the radiator," he informed, shaking his head. My pulse hammered in my throat, but I forced myself to stay calm and listen for more information before I jumped to my feet.

"They get out okay?" one of the men wondered, on the edge of his seat.

The other trucker rubbed his face and fixed his cap. "Just the guy. His wife didn't make it," he said sadly.

"Damn shame," the man across from him sighed as he pulled a menu closer, and the waitress shuffled to their table, ending their conversation. I waited until she was gone to see if they'd rekindle it, but they began talking about their next pickups and payloads.

I took an unsteady breath, battling each memory that attempted to surge to the surface: the crackling of flames, the smell of smoke… I couldn't go back there. Not now. I had to be rational. Houses burned down every day. What was the likelihood of the same thing suddenly showing its face all these years later? Yet there was that voice in the back of my mind—taunting, whispering—what if it is?

An unusual sense of hope twisted in my gut, sharp and painful. I'd chased so many dead ends over the years, but maybe this time, maybe here, it would change. I clenched my jaw, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I threw a crumpled bill onto the counter, pushed myself to my feet, braced for the cold, and walked out of the diner.

If there was even a chance, no matter how small, that this was related to what happened… I had to find out.

---

—DPOV—

Besides running out to pick up Tori's prescriptions or food, we didn't leave the motel. Even if doing a hunt was off the table because Tori was out of commission, that didn't stop me from sticking with my lifelong routine of keeping tabs on our surroundings. So, I grabbed a newspaper out of habit during our outing this morning. It sat untouched on the small round table while we ate breakfast.

My eyes drifted to my silent phone. Two days had come and gone. The last time Dad shut me out like this was years before Tori came to live with us. Back then, I deserved it—Sam could've died because of me. But now? Yeah, we screwed up by lying, and I felt like crap about it. But this? Not even giving us a chance to explain ourselves? It didn't feel justified.

By dinnertime, we decided to order in instead of braving the cold, much to Tori's frustration. I grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the couch, wrapped it around her, and flicked on the TV, landing on some channel playing old sitcom reruns. Tori snuggled into my side and let out a heavy sigh. She was restless, and she wasn't bothering to hide it. Honestly, I felt the same. Usually, a little time off together would've been a nice break, but now, her injuries and the uncertainty ahead cast a cold, heavy shadow over everything.

"You're quiet today," Tori observed after a while, her voice gentle but knowing.

I shrugged my right shoulder, careful not to jostle her. "Just thinking."

"He'll come back," she reassured, knowing me well enough to hit the nail on the head.

"I know he will," I said. "It's just… to go completely dark like this? I don't know."

"Wouldn't be the first time," she countered, shifting slightly against me. "I mean, he did the same thing when Sam left for Stanford. He came back then."

"Yeah. Drunk and pissed off."

Tori arched an eyebrow in agreement. "But still."

Before anything more could be said, a knock at the door shattered the quiet. My heart sank, the sudden sound jolting through me like an electric shock. For a moment, all I could think was Dad. The idea of him walking back into the room, dragging his disapproval with him, made my chest clench.

Tori's eyes met mine with a silent determination drowning in resignation. Confrontation was inevitable, but I also knew I wouldn't back down. Not this time. I crossed the room quickly, peering through the peephole.

It wasn't Dad. Just a delivery driver holding our food. I didn't know whether to be relieved or frustrated that all those mental gymnastics I used to prepare myself had to wait to be put to use another day. Either way, I exhaled slowly, pushing down the wave of anxiety that had built up, and forced a polite smile as I opened the door. Grabbing the take-out bag, I tipped the teenage boy and shut the door behind me with my hip.

I set the bag on the counter, and Tori began unpacking the food. "You shouldn't be doing all that," I said.

"They told me I shouldn't carry anything heavy." She lifted one of the cardboard boxes pointedly. "Fried rice isn't heavy."

"It is when you add extra shrimp," I teased, gently ushering her out of the way to take out my container of food.

Tori scowled and folded her arms. "Don't go judging me, Mr. Always-Orders-Double-Bacon."

I smirked. "It's called living life to the fullest."

"It's called high cholesterol," she remarked, snatching a set of chopsticks from the bag along with her rice and making her way to the table.

I joined her, and we ate in silence, the room filled only with the soft clatter of utensils against containers and the faint laugh track from the sitcom playing in the background. For a moment, things almost felt as if the past week hadn't happened at all. Then, a car door slammed outside, and Tori's gaze drifted toward the window as she chewed, lost in thought. Once again, it was nothing, and we tried to return to normal.

Holding out for Dad to make the next move, being stuck on his timeline… it wasn't anything new. He made the rules, and we lived by them because when it came to hunting and the world surrounding it, Dad knew what he was doing. I never doubted that, and Tori never complained. But this… this felt different.

After we finished our meals, she took my empty container and began cleaning up the remnants of our dinner. I almost told her to take it easy, but I knew she needed to stay busy to keep her mind off everything. So, I kept quiet and helped her instead. As I slipped some leftovers into the fridge, Tori leaned against the counter, tapping her nails on the wooden cabinet behind her. She got that look on her face, the one that said she had an idea.

"What is it?" I asked, sitting back at the table.

Tori pushed away from the counter. She came over and rested her arms on my shoulders, her cheek brushing against the side of my head as she leaned down. I shut my eyes momentarily, the weight of her closeness settling me in a way nothing else could. "Well, I was thinking…" she trailed off. "Maybe John found a job nearby."

I nodded. If there were one thing Dad would do, especially if he needed to blow off steam, it would be to find the nearest hunt. "You're probably right."

Tori glanced at the newspaper on the table, then back to me. "We could try to find it."

"And do what?" I asked, eyeing the bandage I'd helped put on her shoulder this afternoon despite her insisting she could take care of it herself. "You're not hunting right now, Tor."

She lifted an eyebrow and joked, "You saying I can't dig a grave one-handed?"

Even with all the stress, she managed to make me laugh. "I'd like to see you try," I chuckled.

"Challenge accepted," she joked, though her expression quickly sobered. "Look, maybe if we find him, we can really get him to listen—explain everything. I just want to fix this; I want things to be okay between us. Between the two of you."

I could see the weight of her words settling in, the concern etched across her face. She was thinking about the bigger picture, even while her own heart was on the line.

"Whoa, wait a minute." I took her arm and gently led her to the chair next to mine. "Things are okay between us. And Dad–" The disappointment on his face flashed behind my eyes, but I willed it away. "I don't know what's gonna happen there," I told her truthfully. "But I do know it's not gonna change anything for you and me."

Her gaze softened, eyes flickering with a flash of hope mixed with a healthy dose of worry. "He's important to you–"

"You're important to me." Finding Dad, trying to talk to him while he was angry—before he was ready—it could blow up in our faces, but it wasn't just about taking control; it was about showing him how much this mattered. Above all else, it was about showing Tori that she was worth it to me. "If he's not back within the next couple of days, we'll start looking."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I reassured.

Tori let out a relieved breath, but her posture was still rigid. "Okay."

"But for now, what do you say we head to bed and just relax?" I knew how badly she wanted to set out, to repair something she didn't break, but I hoped she'd say yes—just one more night of staying in our bubble and forgetting the outside world was all we'd need.

A soft smile broke across her face, almost like she knew exactly what I was thinking. "I would like that."

---

—JPOV—

Although it clocked in at just over four hours, the drive to Medford felt like an eternity. The long stretch of road leading to the Williams' house blurred under the hazy midnight moon. I flipped my cell open, finding no bars in the top corner. The signal was out again, and a deep seed of regret was planted in my stomach for not returning Dean's call when I had the chance. My mind was a minefield of memories, each one waiting to explode if I let my guard down for even a second. But I couldn't afford to think about that right now—not until I knew what was going on here.

The tires crunched on loose gravel as I pulled up to the house, an unmistakable thudding in my ears. Outside, the air still smelled faintly of smoke, mingling with the crisp scent of winter. I shined my flashlight at the blackened structure—yellow caution tape wrapped around the trees in the front yard, cutting off access to the walkway. I ducked underneath the tape and moved to the front door, quickly gaining access.

The first floor was untouched by the fire. Besides the scent of burnt wood and ash, you'd never know anything happened here until you reached the stairs—a charred line of splintered floorboards led to the master bedroom where the fire had started. The walls were black, shredded, and torn from the heat. The floor had caved in near the center, leaving a gaping hole that led down to the first floor. Half of the bed had been reduced to dust.

I moved carefully through the wreckage, searching for any sign that this fire was more than just a tragic accident. My flashlight flickered over the darkest corners of the room, but nothing stood out—no sulfuric smell, no scorched symbols. The only thing left for me to do was stand there, staring at the remains of a room that was undoubtedly full of life just a few days ago.

After keeping it away for so long, I finally let the silence wash over me. In the quiet, all I could hear were Mary's screams; all I could feel was the unbearable heat that seemed to linger above me perpetually.

With my flashlight leading the way, I picked through the wreckage, stepping over collapsed beams and avoiding the broken glass scattered across the floor. I finally found the radiator wedged against the wall, blackened and warped. The metal was twisted beyond repair. Its paint bubbled and peeled away, revealing the corroded innards. A tangle of melted wires snaked out from its base, the insulation dripping like wax. This piece of junk had been neglected for years—rust creeping up the legs, the knobs barely holding on, and deep cracks running along the sides.

No matter how badly I wanted this to be something more, I knew the truth staring me in the face. It was just an old, faulty heater that finally gave out. This wasn't the same. This wasn't my fight.

Another dead end. Another wasted trip. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, nothing but frustration and helplessness clawing to the surface. There was nothing here—nothing that would bring me any closer to finding the thing that had destroyed our lives all those years ago. It wasn't fair. It was never fair.

Back out in the cold, I took one last bitter look at the house before climbing into my truck. I cranked up the heat, letting the warmth thaw my chilled bones. I peeled off my gloves and tossed them onto the passenger seat. As I gripped the steering wheel, a stream of moonlight cut through the trees, illuminating my fingers and catching the glint of the silver band I'd never taken off, even after all this time.

My fury over Mary's untimely death had clouded my judgment in many ways. All I could see was the road ahead, paved with challenge after challenge as we sought our revenge. The deep ache I felt whenever I thought of her was something I never wanted my kids to experience. But would my life have been better without her? Absolutely not. That connection—though imperfect—was something I wouldn't trade for the world. And no matter how brief, that time with her was everything to me.

Those blinders I put on twenty-two years ago made me overlook a lot, including the fact that Dean had found something I had always hoped for him and Sam: a semblance of normalcy, something real. With everything I've done, with everything we've lost, how could I try to take that away, too?

Every day, I grappled with the memories of what I should have done when Mary was alive. I had spent years chasing shadows, wishing I could turn back time, wishing I had fought so much harder for her than I did. The regret was a constant weight, reminding me of my failures.

But from the moment I confronted Dean in that hospital, and he stood his ground, refusing to back down even in the face of my anger, from the moment Vic had remained strong after being told what happened, it became clear that they were more than willing to go to battle for each other. No matter how mad I tried to get about that fact, I couldn't seem to muster the feeling anymore. It was a good thing—something I had to accept.

---

—DPOV—

When I woke up, the room was still cast in shadows, with only the faintest trace of light slicing through the curtains. Outside, the wind lashed against the motel windows, and another bout of snow was preparing to fall. I checked the clock on the bedside table: five-thirty in the morning.

Carefully rolling over, my gaze fell on Tori, still sound asleep beside me. I didn't want to wake her; she needed the rest. So rather than get up and scour the newspaper like that nagging voice in the back of my mind was telling me to, I slipped my arms around her and pulled her close. Tori let out a contented breath and snuggled in tighter, her warmth radiating against me. I focused on her soft breaths, steady and calming, in an attempt to hold onto what little peace we achieved while in our cocoon.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed when I heard the soft creaks from Tori's side of the bed. The old wooden headboard gently tapped against the wall as she stirred, opening her eyes and stretching as best she could while still nestled in my arms.

"Morning," I said softly, hoping to keep the moment light.

She squinted into the darkness, blinking to clear her vision. "What time is it?"

I glanced over my shoulder at the clock. "Just after six."

Tori rubbed her eyes but didn't make a move to leave. A smile was evident in her voice. "Can we stay like this a little longer?" she asked.

"You read my mind, Cherry Pie," I murmured, kissing her forehead. She sunk back into my chest, her body fitting perfectly against mine.

We stayed wrapped in each other for nearly an hour, the room washed in comfort. When Tori finally shifted to get up, mumbling something about her arm falling asleep, her nose scrunched in pain. Without a word, I slipped out of bed, filled a glass with water, and grabbed the bottle of pain pills off the table. I poured out her dose and offered it to her.

Tori eyed the tiny orange pill, her face hardening with that same stubborn determination she always wore when trying to act tougher than she felt. "I'm good," she muttered.

A sarcastic snort escaped before I could catch it. "Tor, you've been through the wringer," I said, softening my tone to combat the glare she shot my way. "No need to make it worse."

Her blue eyes flicked from the pill to my face, lingering just long enough to let me know she wasn't happy. Begrudgingly, she took it and washed it down with a long sip of water. "Happy now?"

I flashed a grin. "Very."

Just then, heavy footsteps approached the door, thudding against the icy pavement outside. My body tensed, every nerve on high alert—it was too early, and we certainly weren't expecting anyone. I slipped my hand under the pillow, fingers curling around the cool handle of the knife I'd stashed there. Then, the familiar jingle of keys sounded, followed by the click of the lock turning. I let go of the blade and exchanged a look with Tori. This was it—the moment we'd been waiting for.

I made sure my feet were firmly planted on the cold ground as the door creaked open. My heart hammered in my chest, almost so loud that I couldn't hear the sound of Dad's boots stomping across the threshold or the click of the door as he shut it behind him. The room suddenly felt ten degrees colder, like we'd been dunked in a bucket of ice water.

Dad stood there, his brow furrowed and stress radiating from every line in his posture. His eyes scanned the room with that sharp, calculating look he always had when things were about to get serious. "Glad you're still here. Thought you might've left by now," he said.

"Of course not," Tori replied, her tired voice sounding more piercing than she probably wanted. "Where have you been?"

"I had to clear my head," Dad replied coolly. "Not that I have to explain myself," he added pointedly as if to underscore his authority.

"We were worried," she added softly, playing with the comforter below her.

He huffed, releasing a fraction of his frustration with it. "There wasn't much of a signal out there. I couldn't call if I tried." Dad pulled in a breath, but this one, he held. "We need to talk," he said, and my stomach sank at the gravity in his tone. "Do you know why I left?"

Tension coiled tighter, wrapping around us like a vice. Tori's hands stilled, and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, forcing myself to meet Dad's piercing stare. "You were pissed," I answered.

"Damn right, I was. You two lied to me for a year." His eyes narrowed into slits. "Did you think I'd never find out?"

"No," I admitted, feeling his pressure clamping down on me. "We figured you would eventually."

"And you still went ahead and did it?" he questioned, eyes narrowed accusingly.

"John, you have to know how hard this was for us—for him." Tori gestured to me as she slipped off the bed and stood by my side. "We've been trying to ignore how we felt for a long time. It wasn't easy; it never has been, but we did it because we respected you. We listened to you."

"Until you didn't."

After all the things he's asked of me, of Tori, that we've done without question, an inch of understanding would be nice. "Look, Dad, going behind your back, it was the last thing we wanted," I said. "We just... didn't have a choice."

He cocked an eyebrow, his voice suddenly sharp. "You didn't? You chose to keep me in the dark. That was a choice."

I thought back on the last year, the random waves of overwhelming guilt that would hit me like a tidal wave before being quelled by the woman beside me. This situation was no different, so I focused on how her fearlessness fueled my own. "Yeah, maybe it was wrong, but if we told you, what would've happened?" I challenged, frustration mingling with desperation. "You would've tried to put a stop to it."

Dad switched his weight to his other foot and squared his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. "Is that so?" he asked, but his conviction waned. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he knew I was telling the truth.

My jaw tightened, and I locked onto his unyielding gaze. Maybe I should've kept my mouth shut. The look he shot my way told me as much, but I couldn't reign it in. "I think so, yeah."

"You know why I would've done that?" he asked, head tilted to the side. "Because our lives are dangerous. Mixing emotions in this line of work can lead to mistakes. Deadly ones."

"You're right," Tori replied firmly. "But being all alone, with the things we see every day, that wouldn't end well either. We need each other."

Dad's eyes flickered to her, his expression hard but not unkind. "And what happens if something goes wrong?"

"That's the kind of risk you take for something like this," she answered without hesitation. She glanced up at me, her eyes filled with a tenderness that made everything else fade. It was a look that spoke volumes—a look that told me just how deeply she cared. Cliche as it was, my heart thudded over a beat, and I couldn't help but return the smile she offered, small but unwavering, as if to say I'm with you, no matter what.

The feeling of Dad's eyes boring into us snapped me back into the moment. But rather than irritation, I spotted a hint of something unexpected flickering in his eyes. I hated to get my hopes up, but it almost looked like approval.

"And you know we've still been hunting this past year," I pointed out cautiously. "Her and me? We make a pretty damn good team."

For a brief moment, I could've sworn I saw the corners of Dad's mouth twitch into a smile before it vanished. "You promised Vic nothing would come between the two of you, right?" he asked me.

My brow furrowed. The only way he'd know that was if… "You heard us?" I asked. "In the hospital?"

"You made that promise," he repeated, avoiding my question. "That nothing would stop you."

I knew the answer he was expecting. Simple and concise. "Yes, sir."

"Not even me?" he challenged, looking as though he already knew the answer.

A lump formed in my throat. I swallowed hard to wash it away so I could stand straighter and speak clearly. "No, sir."

The room fell silent again, but this time, it felt different. Less like a standoff, more like an understanding. Dad stayed silent for what felt like an eternity before he finally gave a slow nod. "All right," he muttered.

Tori and I shared another look, but this one was of bewilderment. "All right?" she repeated. "What does—"

Dad held up a hand, cutting off any more questions. "You two stay focused, keep an eye on each other. And no more lies. Something happens, you tell me. Right away. Are we clear?" he said gruffly.

There was no mistaking the meaning behind his words: this wasn't just acceptance—it was permission, and it was probably the closest damn thing to a blessing we were ever gonna get from him.

"Yes, sir," I quickly replied, and at the same time, Tori answered, "Crystal."

Dad gave a single, curt nod. "Good," he muttered. "I'm gonna head down to Stanford. Check on Sammy." His eyes drifted between us, then he turned on his heel and headed for the door. Before stepping out, he glanced back one last time. "You've got a hell of a road ahead of you. Make it count."

For a few seconds after he left, neither of us said a word, letting the dust settle. Then, Tori released a long breath, a smile molded by disbelief breaking across her face. "No way that just happened," she said.

I chuckled, feeling the tightness in my chest ease. "That went better than expected," I said, possibly the biggest understatement ever.

She scoffed. "Just a little."

"You know, I didn't want to say anything, but for a second there, I thought we were screwed."

"You and me both." She turned to face me, amusement slowly morphing into something softer. "So... what do we do now?" she asked, her voice low, almost tentative.

I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I can think of a few things," I said.

Tori's eyes flicked up to mine, shining like the surface of sunlit water. She tightened her grip on my hand one last time before pulling me into her arms. "Oh yeah?" she asked, wearing a knowing smile and tracing my sides with her nails. "Care to share?"

I raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at my lips. "Why ruin the surprise?"

"Well, I do love surprises," she replied, a hint of mischief dancing in her voice.

Unable to resist any longer, I leaned down and captured her lips with mine. She reached up, meeting me halfway, her kiss strong yet gentle—warm and inviting. That was her: a sanctuary in our chaotic world. That's what we were for each other. We always had been. Nothing and no one could take that away. Not now… hell, not ever.

So, the road ahead might be filled with potholes, but that didn't matter. Whatever came up, as long as we were together, we could handle it.

---

Hi, everyone! Long time no see! I hope you're doing well. Sorry for not posting; life has been hectic, but I'm back! :D