A/N: Ha! I got it done! A part of it at least. Probably best to make it as such anyway - it would have been a very long chapter otherwise! So here's the first portion of Logan's dinner with Alex and her family; the introductions.

Appendix D

Section C

Alex age 17

"I can't decide how much I want to scare the crap outta this kid."

Dean paced slowly around the bunker's kitchen table, a stack of plain plates in one arm. Sam carefully arranged the silverware on the place settings on the other side.

"There's going to be a fine line between really making him extremely uncomfortable and loosing any kind of respect from Alex," Dean continued.

"Well," Sam replied as he urged a fork and knife set into parallel lines, "It's probably best to err to one side or the other. So you'll have to decide which is more important; making some poor young fellow who's probably already terrified of you even more terrified of you, or your daughter's trust and affection."

Dean paused, looking critically off into space. Sam soon noticed his brother and furrowed his brow in query.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm thinking," Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes and continued his preparation of the table. "He seems to be a pretty good guy, Dean. Least from what we've heard about him."

Dean scoffed, "Yeah, because Alex's opinion isn't biased at all."

"Hey, she's no push over; if he didn't treat her right in any way, she wouldn't hesitate to dump him on his ass and you know it," Sam replied as he finished with the silverware and heading over to the oven. "Do you remember that time in the convenience store in Kansas?"

Dean scrunched his face in confusion, "Convenience store in Kansas?"

"Yeah, when she got Spot," Sam elaborated, searching the counter for his wooden spoon.

"Oh, we're goin' way back," Dean replied.

Sam laughed, "Yeah. She must have been one and a half," finding his spoon propped on a saucer, he uncovered a large pot simmering on the stovetop. "She started pointing at that display of little stuffed dogs and you handed her one and she threw it viciously back at the display and pointed at a different one."

"Yeah, with a blue ribbon instead of a red one," Dean replied. "I forgot that! She was so pissed I gave her the one with the wrong ribbon."

"Exactly," Sam stirred the contents of his pot. "She knows what she wants and what's good for her; she always has."

Dean grimaced, "Yeah, I guess, what the hell are you making, anyway?"

"Jasmine and wild rice pilaf."

Dean shook his head. "Thank god I'm making meat."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother once more and replaced the lid of the pot, setting the spoon back on its saucer.

"Well, you check on your meat; I have to run to the bathroom," Sam clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder on his way out of the kitchen.

Dean growled inwardly and went to investigate the progress of the stakes he had in the oven. He smiled at the sizzling slabs of beef, marinating in their own melted fats.

"See, now that's food," he said to himself.

It was then that the sound of the front door of the bunker opening came from beyond the threshold of the kitchen entrance. The rustle of jackets (and hopefully the black sack Logan was supposed to wear) could be heard as Alex's boots tapped on the wood floors.

Dean sighed, "Here we go."

He closed the door of the oven and made his way towards the crow's nest as Alex called, "Dad! Uncle Sam! We're home!"

"Hello, Mr. Winchester!" came Logan's greeting.

Dean paused on the step of the kitchen door, teetering slightly as if dazed by the sound of the young man's voice.

"Oh, god, I hate him already," Dean murmured before continuing to the open-story entrance.

"Why the hell did I call to him, too?" Logan hissed to Alex. "That was so awkward!"

"It is not," Alex insisted, mildly exasperated.

Logan shook slightly, looking around at the vast room into which Alex had guided him while still blind-sacked. Given the ragged-edged look of Dean and Sam, he had half expected to be brought into some trailer wreaking of stale smoke and garlic, the kind of place with a shotgun-wielding neighbor on one side, a meth lab on the other and angry dogs behind. But this… this was much worse. This was intimidating. The vast space, finely furnished and clean-lined, made him feel small and insignificant. The mystery of it persisted, which amplified the terrible unknown surrounding Dean.

And speak of the devil, as Alex led Logan down the stairs, there he appeared from some door leading into the unknown; the Father. He already looked steely and impatient, his eyes as sharp as a hawk's and his lips pursed as if he had just sucked down something sour. He looked bigger than Logan remembered. There was a kind of effortless swagger in his step as he strode across the marble floor like a gladiator across the Coliseum.

"Hey, Dad!" Alex greeted him.

"Hey, sweetie," Dean softened as he bestowed a smile on his daughter.

Alex then turned to Logan, guiding him forward with a hand on his elbow, saying, "This is Logan."

Desperately hoping his hand wasn't noticeably clammy and sweaty, Logan extended it to Dean, "Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Winchester."

Dean took the proffered hand and shook briefly, his grip like iron. Logan forced himself not to squirm under the contact.

"I thought we'd already met," Dean proposed the notion.

"Oh, well," Logan worked to correct himself as Dean let go of his hand, "I suppose I've seen you in the restaurant now and again, but never got the chance to introduce myself."

"Mm. I see," Dean replied. "I thought your hair was longer."

"Oh, um," Logan suddenly panicked. Why did I go and chop it off?! Cutting my hair for the father of my girlfriend? That's so creepy! "It was. Longer. It was time for a change."

"Ah."

Oh my god! He thinks I'm lying to him! Well, I kind of am – concealing part of the truth. Oh my god, he knows I'm lying to him! We've only talked for thirty seconds and I've already lied to him!

"And… I wanted to make a good first impression," Logan shrugged.

Dean's eyebrows jumped up a scosh. "You cut your hair for me and Sam?"

"Ah…," Logan stood at nearly eye level with Dean, yet somehow the youth felt a great deal smaller. Perhaps it was how straight Dean stood, tall and immovable like an iron statue. Or maybe it was the general breadth and sturdiness of his frame supported with a more than sufficient amount of muscle. Logan couldn't help but notice the circumference of Dean's arms and chest and wondered how easy it would be for the man to literally throw him out the front door. "More for the occasion, really."

Dean chuckled slightly, obviously seeing through Logan's feeble excuse, "Wow. Hadn't even walked through the door and you already had your nose straight up my ass."

At that moment, Logan felt all his internal functions – lungs, heart, everything – just stop.

"Oh my god. Dad," Alex snapped, astonishment on her face.

"What? I'm impressed! Not everyone would suck up that much that quickly," Dean patted Logan roughly on the upper arm. The youth was loosing feeling in his legs.

"SO, what did you and Uncle Sam make?" Alex tried to change the subject. "Smells good. Are we going to have a nice dinner?"

Dean took a long breath, "Yes, it should be decent enough."

"Awesome," Alex replied sharply.

Dean turned and motioned them to follow. "Why don't you come on into the kitchen? Should be ready in just a few minutes.

"Logan; careful not to catch any flies with your mouth hanging open like that."

Logan checked himself, snapping his mouth closed when he realized his jaw had dropped at some point.

"Not a lot of flies in here, though; place is pretty tight. Only one way in and out," Dean continued as he strode across the floor.

"Christ," Alex hissed under her breath as she followed her father, Logan drifting behind her.

Sam returned from the bathroom and paused in the doorway to the kitchen. The area was empty, his brother having disappeared. He cast a curious glance around the room.

"Dean?" he asked the vacant space.

"Logan; careful not to catch any flies with your mouth hanging open like that," Dean's voice drifted in from the crow's nest.

Sam's eyes widened as he realized where his brother had gone.

"Oh my god!"

The young man would have become chum at this point with only Alex around to run interference. Sam twisted around and raced back out of the kitchen and down the short hall into the entry. There, he stopped short just in time to keep from knocking poor Logan onto his back. The youth ran into Sam anyway.

"Whoa! Sorry!" Sam quickly apologized.

"Oh! Sorry!" Logan replied, then looking up to see who he had catapulted into and his eyes grew large. "Oh my god, you're big. No! Not big!" he backpedaled. "Tall! You're rather tall. You're not big at all." His eyes glanced down to Sam's narrow waist. "In fact, you're rather fit and trim. Oh my god, I am so sorry." Logan hung his head and slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Wow," Dean said before turning and exiting. "Smooth, kid."

"Whoa, man, it's okay!" Sam laughed sympathetically at the flustered tirade. "Hey," he put his hands on Logan's shoulders and the boy looked up at him, "I'm on your side."

Logan visibly released a calming breath, his taut muscles relaxing under Sam's palms. Sam smiled.

"I'm Sam, Alex's uncle."

"Nice to meet you," Logan replied, shaking Sam's hand. "I'm Logan." He seemed exhausted – what the poor boy must have been through in the past few minutes!

"Nice to meet you, too, Logan." Sam gestured in the direction of the galley. "Why don't you come into the kitchen? Dinner's almost ready."

"Okay," replied Logan. The boy seemed to be mentally preparing himself for interacting with Dean again.

Sam prepared himself to interact with Dean as well, knowing he would have quite a job to do keeping his elder brother from completely demolishing this innocent youth. The younger Winchester gritted his teeth as he led Logan down the hallway to the room from which the rich sent of stake was wafting.