A/N: Y'all….

Y'ALL….

I am SO SORRY!

I honestly don't know what happened. I couldn't tell you if life got stupid busy right then, or if something switched in my brain, or what; I don't remember, because it was 9 YEARS AGO….

So I apologize… hehehehehe… *cries a little*… especially since I know this particular section was probably my most anticipated section I've ever written… of anything, really… and I kind of left you hanging. For a really friggin' long time.

Here's the thing, though…. I hadn't written a lick of this section waaaaay back when I was doing this whole fan fiction thing the first time around, and I have no clue what I was going to write. But I do know this; this was going to be the last section, the last appendix. I had no more ideas. None.

In the last few months that I've started rewatching Supernatural and gotten back into writing this particular storyline, I have spewed out another 63,000 words… and counting.

And shit's gonna get real.

So don't worry; another hiatus is far, far away. I am going to aim hardcore for dropping updates every Thursday (just like the good ol' days, when Supernatural aired on live TV - man, do you remember live TV? *laughs feebly in Millenial*). It'll be preeeeetty late in the day as I'm a closer at work, but it will drop Thursdays, and my schedule is much more consistent nowadays, so I should be able to bring you new content weekly.

For a while.

'Cause there's a lot.

So to all those who have patiently waited, I thank you: both for your patience, and for your support all those years ago, and any support you want to share as the story continues. I hope this is worth the wait.

Here it is; the dinner scene. Exactly nine years to the day since the last update.

(Also, this section is hella long, but I didn't have the heart to break it up any more and make you wait another week to get the rest of this particular scene.)

(Also, going to start naming these appendices because it's gonna get REEEEEAAAALLY hard to navigate on the site if I don't.)

(Also, I spelled "steak" correctly this time.)

Appendix D

Section D

Alex age 17

Dinner

"So, Logan; want a beer?" Dean asked, heading for the fridge.

If the crow's nest of Dean, Sam, and Alex's home had seemed frightening, the kitchen Logan had just stepped into was like a prison cell: no windows, all hard surfaces, and the table on which the dinnerware was set was as plain and simple as it could get. Of course, this place would have looked cozy had the young man known there was an actual prison cell deeper in the complex.

Logan shoved down his anxiety-ridden first impression to piece together an assessment and reply to Dean's question. "Oh, uh, no thanks! I'm only nineteen," he said with a nervous smile.

"Goody two shoes, huh?" Dean replied, pulling out two bottles for himself and his brother.

"Uuuuhhh…." Logan didn't know how to respond. Not participating in underage drinking had seemed like the safe choice.

"Hey, nothing wrong with following the rules once in a while," Sam commented.

"Uh-huh," Dean said. "Alex, you want one?"

"No, thanks, Dad. I think I'll keep my wits about me tonight," Alex replied.

Dean shrugged, closing the fridge door.

"Have a seat," Sam offered, gesturing to the table.

"Thanks," said Logan.

Logan and Alex sat along one side of the table as Dean placed the drinks and Sam went to dump the pilaf into a serving bowl. Logan was both rattled and starting to grow accustomed to the discomfort. He was in the deep end now—might as well keep calm and just try to swim. Nevertheless, his mind buzzed with anxiety.

"Do you usually drink with your dad and uncle?" he asked Alex quietly.

Alex shook her head with irritability.

"No. Well, a little sometimes. But he's just trying to trick you into doing something he can disapprove of," she said.

"Oh," Logan said. Then thinking back on his experiences so far, he continued; "Is there anything I can do he wouldn't disapprove of?"

Alex shrugged. "We'll see.

"I smell meat. What are we having?" she continued more loudly.

"Rib-eyes," Dean replied as he pulled the pan out of the oven. He then waved a hand lazily in Sam's direction. "Sam made rice."

"Wild rice pilaf," Sam elaborated to Logan and Alex as he set the serving bowl on the table and seated himself.

"Oh, I love pilaf," Logan replied.

"'Course you do," Dean growled.

"Well, we'll see how you like this stuff," said Sam. "Neither Dean nor I are exactly the best cooks in the world."

"Speak for yourself, Sammy. I rocked these steaks," Dean said.

Having removed the meat from the pan of grease and dropped them onto a platter fit for the most utilitarian farmhouse in American history, he brought the main dish over and began depositing the rather large, thick rib-eyes onto each plate.

When he got to Logan's, the young man held up a hand and said, "Oh, no, thank you. I'm vegetarian." He smiled innocently.

Dean froze, staring daggers at him. "'Scuse me?"

Logan's eyes widened in terror.

"Oh, it's not a—like—a 'meat is murder' thing. I don't mind eating meat and I don't judge the people who do. It's, you know, the circle of life," he rambled. "It's more about the environmental and ethical implications of raising beef in a feedlot setting."

Dean squinted at him, trying to wrap his head around the reasoning the scrawny youth had just word-vomited. "What?"

"Just take the beef," Alex instructed rapidly under her breath.

"Huh?" Logan looked at her.

"Just take the beef."

"It's grass-fed," Sam interjected.

"What?" Dean repeated, turning to his brother.

"Yeah, it's grass-fed." Sam shrugged. "When it's available, I get grass-fed."

"I send you to the grocery store for meat and you go hunting for fancy ass hippy steaks?" Dean was perplexed.

"The farmer's market was open, so I stopped by," Sam explained. "They were only a dollar more per pound."

"You went to the farmer's market? Instead of the grocery store?" Dean was so bewildered at this point he had forgotten all about the steak he had suspended in tongs between the platter and the plate.

"I went to both; the farmer's market was on the way," Sam explained. "Where do you think I got the wild rice? They don't have that at our grocery store."

Dean's face was a mask of confusion. "What?"

"Dad, just…" Alex half unseated herself and reached slowly and carefully for her father's steak-bearing arm, and having grasped his wrist, gently guided the food to Logan's plate, "…just lay this down here, like that, nice and easy, theeeere you go…."

Dean's eyes flicked between her and the tongs, saying absolutely nothing, looking half dazed.

"Thank you, Mr. Winchester," Logan said sheepishly. "Smells amazing."

"Uh-huh," Dean replied, prowling around behind him to deposit the final steak on Alex's plate. He then rounded the table, putting down the platter and sighing as he plopped into a chair beside Sam. They collectively finished dishing up in silence, spooning pilaf and pouring water.

Then they took up their silverware and the interrogation began.

"So, Logan," Dean began, "how's the bus boy game? Found anything really disgusting lately?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, we're eating."

Logan tried to stay calm. "Nothing super gross recently. Been pretty run of the mill these last few weeks."

"Well, dang," Dean replied. "You'd think a dirty job like that, at least you'd have a few stories."

Logan weighed the risks of being gross and presenting something moderately entertaining. This did seem the kind of crowd that would take gross as moderately entertaining. Alex rarely, if ever, bulked at anything like that, so he assumed her family would be similarly iron-stomached.

"I did find a finger once."

"Yikes," Sam commented casually.

"Oh, really?" Dean perked up a bit.

"Yeah, had to call the cops and everything," Logan continued. "Turned out it was from the canning plant down on highway seven. One of the workers found it after an accident, but it was too late to sew back onto the guy who lost it, so they decided to prank the restaurant and left it on their finished plate under a few fries."

Dean allowed himself the tiniest of chuckles. "Did they get yah'?"

Logan had to be honest and nodded. "Little bit."

Dean grinned, then jabbed his steak knife in the boy's direction. "Good story."

"Thanks." Logan let himself relax minutely. Dean seemed to be lightening somewhat.

"He's not just a bus boy, you know," Alex added. "He's actually a really talented musician."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean's mood turned back again. "There's some steady work for yah'."

"Oh, like we're so financially stable." Sam tossed a weary look at his brother.

"Yeah, well, we have the—this place." Dean stopped himself from saying "bunker." "Not having a mortgage helps a lot.

"Tell me, Logan," Dean rounded, "how do you plan to support your family as a down-on-his-luck musician?"

"Dad."

"Dean, he's nineteen," Sam chided.

Logan quailed in his seat. He somehow managed to get his voice to work. "Well, I'll always have a more reliable job going. I mostly just busk right now, which I can do any time."

"What the Hell is 'busk'?" asked Dean.

"Like… playing in public places," replied Logan, slowly realizing his folly.

Dean paused.

"Like on street corners?"

Logan paused, too.

"And parks and trails and stuff."

"You're a street performer," Dean said flatly.

"F-for now," said Logan.

"It makes more money than you think," said Alex.

"Oh, does it now?" Dean replied.

"Yeah," Alex scoffed.

"What kind of music do you like to play?" Sensing trouble, Sam pivoted the conversation just enough to be natural but effective.

Logan's attention snapped to Sam, clinging to the change of subject for dear life. "Lots of acoustic stuff: folk, alternative, a few pop songs—crowd pleasers, you know? I play guitar, so those work really well. And sing."

"Anything I know?" Sam asked.

"Um." Logan thought. "Do you know the Lumineers?"

"Oh, Christ," Dean breathed.

"I may?" Sam replied. "What do you usually play of theirs?"

"'Ho Hey' is super popular, of course," said Logan.

"I think I know that one!" Sam said. "How does that go again? Um, I belong with you—,"

Logan picked it up, smiling, "— You belong with me —," then he turned to Alex and sang to her, "— You're my sweeeeeet-hea-art!"

"Easy," Dean growled, unnerved by the sickly sweet show of affection. What was worse was the way Alex lit up when Logan had turned to her. God, she's taken with him. The thought Dean buried as deep as he could was how impressed he was by the quality of Logan's voice.

"So, do you think you're going to go to school for music?" Sam prompted.

Logan shrugged. "Well, I don't know. It's so unlikely I can make a high income with music, I can't really justify spending the money."

"If you're as skilled as Alex says, you might be able to get a scholarship," Sam said encouragingly.

"Sam's the academic in the family," said Dean.

Logan gave a small laugh. "I don't know if I'm really cut out for it. All that school stuff, it's—,"

There came the sound of the fluttering of wings.

"Hello, Dean."

Everyone at the table jumped in their chairs. Sam choked. Castiel had just appeared directly behind the brothers.

"Jesus, Cas!" Dean snapped.

"Where did he come from?" Logan mumbled, baffled. He cast a glance around the kitchen to try and locate a point of entry that would explain the strange man's sudden presence.

"What are you doing here?" Dean barked.

"I smelled steak," replied Castiel innocently.

"Lamest excuse ever, Cas," said Dean.

Sam made a gagging sound.

"You okay there, Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head, his eyes shut tight in discomfort, and gestured at his throat.

"Oh my God, he's choking!" Logan burst out, his heart rate skyrocketing. His girlfriend's uncle was about to die at the meet and greet dinner. Was Logan bad luck? Would Alex ever forgive him?

"I am sorry, Sam," Castiel reached out a hand.

Dean knocked it away before it could make contact with Sam's shoulder. "We have company, Cas.

"All right, stand up," he instructed Sam.

The brothers got to their feet almost lazily. Logan was already there.

"Um, um, okay," the young man was saying, panicked, "I know the Heimlich maneuver from scout camp! First, establish the victim is choking—yup, check. Okay, then, stand behind—."

"Calm down, kid." Dean held up a hand to stop Logan from continuing.

He was already standing behind Sam, tucking his fists under the younger Winchester's sternum.

"Ready?" he asked.

Sam nodded.

"One, two, three."

The fatty glob of meat made a squelching splat as it hit the concrete floor.

Sam coughed noisily as he sucked in fresh air. Dean patted him on the back.

"Better?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam coughed his reply and grabbed a napkin to pick up his near-deadly lump of steak.

"Good." Then Dean turned back to Castiel. "Maybe don't do that during meals? Or come through the door or something less surprising? Plus," Dean said more quietly, "We have company. You can't be showin' up outta nowhere when we've got new people around."

"My apologies," said Cas. "I did not mean to intrude." The angel paused for a second. Then; "Is there steak?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"I only made four, Cas," he growled.

Logan spoke through his rediscovered daze. "He can have mine. I've only had a few bites." He omitted that his stomach was already bothering him, having become unaccustomed to processing meat.

Dean turned to the youth and held his hands out to his sides incredulously.

"Thank you," said Cas, leaning in front of Dean and across the corner of the table to pick up the whole plate. He then took up a spot at the end opposite Logan and Alex and began eating.

Sam returned from throwing out his projectile, baring a fresh plate for Logan. They all made for their seats.

"That was… incredible," Logan said. "You two were so calm, like it was nothing."

"I kinda… used to choke all the time," Sam said, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah, between the ages of two and twelve, he choked on something like every friggin' week," Dean grumbled. "I kept telling him, 'Dammit, Sam, chew your food!' In one ear, out the other. I'd even cut up his meat as small as I could get it and he'd still choke on the crap. And then, of course, he got old enough to cut his own meat, and then he'd make these gigantic chunks that he'd stuff in his mouth and choke on! It was like you were tryin' to kill yourself!" He rounded on Sam at the last.

Sam suppressed a smile. He said, "After a while, I thought it was kind of funny."

Dean dropped his arms onto the table with a bang and shook his head at the empty space in front of him, exasperated.

"It's just a good thing Dad was around the first time you lodged something in your windpipe," he said. "Otherwise I wouldn't have known what to do all the times after."

"Your dad made you do the Heimlich every time Sam choked? Instead of doing it himself?" Logan asked.

"Well, he might have if he'd been there to do it," retorted Dean.

"Dad wasn't around much," Sam elaborated. "It was pretty much up to Dean to take care of me. Until I could take care of myself."

Realization started to come over Logan. "So… you've basically been a dad your whole life."

Dean barely glanced over at him, concentrating on his food.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, kind of."

"That's… like… a lot of responsibility for a really long time," said Logan. "Makes sense that you would be so protective of Alex. I bet it's like a reflex now."

"Keep that in mind next time you think you're about to do something stupid with my daughter." It was quiet, but very clearly a threat.

Logan took it on the chin. "Yes, sir."

They assessed each other for a moment, each with a newfound respect for the other.

Logan had respected Dean for a long time out of fear of the physical consequences. Now, although the resulting punishment for crossing the line might be the same, the motivations behind it were much stronger, and somehow… much more loving? As if the amount of care tempered a far sturdier weapon than shear anger and hate ever could. Logan had never doubted that Dean loved Alex, but now he truly understood: he was programmed to take care of those closest to him no matter what, as he always had and always would. Dean didn't do anything unless it mattered.

While he didn't let it show to any great extent, Logan's response to the situation took affect on Dean as well. The change in the young man's behavior was admirable in his opinion. It was clear he could never truly fathom what Dean had gone through, but it seemed he understood, in spite of the small amount of context available. Then to take that information and treat Dean with the dignity that was owed spoke a great deal about Logan's character. That kind of intelligence, compassion, and respect was what he would want for Alex if she were struggling or vulnerable.

He still kept his guard up.

Then they both turned their attention back to their plates.

"So, um, Logan, this is Castiel," Alex broke the silence. "He's a family friend. Cas, this is my boyfriend, Logan."

"Hello." Castiel waved across the table. "Nice to meet you. I'm sorry to drop in on your dinner."

"No worries!" replied Logan. "Nice to meet you, too. How did you meet the Winchesters?"

"They were a part of my mission at the time," Castiel replied.

"Oh, wow, 'mission'," Logan continued. "Were you a spy or something?"

"No, I am a warrior of Heaven," Cas corrected.

There was an indiscreet thud and Castiel jumped, saying "Ow," at Dean. Clearly the elder Winchester had kicked him under the table.

"Cover, Cas," Dean mumbled at him.

"But he is in the bunker," Cas said a little more loudly than he should have.

Logan's voice shook a little. "'The bunker'?"

"Yeah, he came here with a bag over his head, he doesn't know everything," Dean hissed.

"That's why there's no windows…." Logan's eyes flicked around the room, taking in the interior of the kitchen with a whole different perspective.

"Cas is a bit of a… zealot," Sam fibbed to Logan.

"Yeah, real Bible Thumper," Dean backed up the lie. "He actually believes he's an angel. We found him wandering the streets in Tennessee."

"That's why he's always wearing that trench coat," said Sam. "Kind of a security object he had while he was homeless."

Cas had stopped eating and was looking tiredly into the distance, shaking his head slightly.

"Oh, wow," said Logan. "So you guys just took him in?"

"Yeah, well, he started following us around," Dean said, then turning to look at the angel. "He had our backs a time or two. Figured he wasn't so bad to have nearby if we needed a hand."

Cas returned his attention to Logan. "I have useful skills."

Alex's hand absently went to her throat, but she resisted the temptation to actually touch the skin there. "Super useful." Three out of the five people at the table knew the example that had sprung to her mind. Dean caught the slightest hint of something odd, but dismissed it. Logan was completely oblivious.

"Well, gosh, guys, that's really generous of you to just offer up your home to him," Logan continued. "Not everyone would do that. I'm glad you're here, Castiel. The state of homelessness in this country is heartbreaking."

"Honestly, though," Sam agreed. "The numbers are staggering."

"They are!" replied Logan. "It's really an epidemic."

"That's exactly what it is!" The two were just starting on a roll with a social justice conversation. "You know, I was reading this article in The New York Times—,"

Logan stopped the roll by getting just a little too comfortable. "Oh, no! Fake news!" He laughed.

Sam laughed a little, too. "So fake," he said sarcastically. "I mean, not really, but—,"

"Oh, but really," Logan continued jovially.

Sam started to look confused, but still smiling. "You do know that The New York Times isn't actually fake news, right?"

"Well…." Logan shrugged.

"It's one of the oldest, most trusted, and reliable sources in journalism in the U.S." Sam persisted.

"That's what they want you to think." Logan gave a playfully knowing look.

Dean snorted.

"What makes you think they're not reliable?" Sam prompted the boy.

"Well, they're subsisting on money from the one percent," Logan continued. He had been lulled into a false sense of security by the younger Winchester, thinking he was safe from ridicule from his girlfriend's uncle. So he plowed on; "They're still up and running because all their funding is through rich CEOs and politicians. They're the ones who have control over the articles; they're using that source to feed the public only the information they want people to know about."

Dean was having a hard time staying in his chair he was silently laughing so hard. He could practically feel the icy cold coming off his brother right now.

Sam was absolutely dumbfounded. His brow furrowed and his mouth hanging open, he shook his head and blinked rapidly. "Okay," he said. "So, New York Times isn't your thing. Where do you like to get your news?"

Alex's face was beet red. "Oh my God, Logan, stop…."

"I like to get stuff straight from the horse's mouth, you know?" Logan continued, an unwitting fly buzzing into a spider's web. "I try to find people online who have firsthand experience of things going on in the community. So typically I check Facebook, Twitter, TikTok."

Dean softly pounded the table with a fist, his head hung low over his plate.

"Really?" Sam's eyebrows shot up. Alex recognized the steely stare in her uncle's gaze; shit was about to hit the fan. "Well, it's a good thing you're not going to college, because you can't cite Twitter on a research paper."

Dean finally burst out laughing, unable to contain himself any longer. He clapped a hand on his brother's upper arm and jeered, "Sick burn, Sammy!"

Sam slid low-lidded eyes in Dean's direction, then back to the blank wall opposite him, absolutely seething.

Logan was slowly shriveling in his seat. He'd finally realized the trap he'd set for himself and walked directly into. He reassessed his standings with each of the people around the table. Sam's opinion of him was now next to nothing. Buffer gone. Dean probably still hated him, although at the moment he was in hysterics. Castiel was a completely neutral party, currently sitting quietly and slowly chewing his steak, unfazed by anything going on in the conversation; no help there. The only person still on his side was Alex, and she at this point was too embarrassed to provide any kind of support. His chances of making it through this dinner alive were dwindling.

Oddly, Dean began to play devil's advocate, recovering from his laugh attack.

"Aw, come on, Sam," he said. "He's just concerned with the truth. Don't tell me you haven't hit up social media doing research for one of our jobs."

"That's different," Sam responded sharply.

"Yeah, maybe." Dean then turned back to Logan. "Hey, kid; what have you heard on The Twitter about ghosts and demons and crap like that?"

"Dad," Alex hissed.

"Hey, I'm just wonderin'," Dean said nonchalantly. "Kid's just scouring the Web for the truth, isn't he? What kind of truth has he found out there?"

Logan was back on his toes, quickly assessing the safest route to pursue at this juncture. "Well, I haven't really found that much on… like… the supernatural. The stuff I do see, it's mostly people exaggerating." He tried to act lighthearted when he was truly hoping to sound like a rational human being who didn't believe everything he read on the Internet. "That stuff… it doesn't really exist."

"Oh, yeah?" To Alex's horror, it was Sam who dropped the bomb. He wagged a thumb between himself and Dean. "We're hunters. And so is she." With that, he jabbed a finger at Alex.

"Uncle Sam!" Alex barked in shock and anger. "I wasn't going to tell him that yet! I didn't want to freak him out or make him think we were crazy!"

"Hunters?" Logan was confused. "Like… shooting animals with guns and stuff?"

"Well, there's definitely a lot of guns," said Dean.

"But not animals," Sam continued. "Ghosts. And werewolves. And vampires. And demons and monsters and gods and all kinds of stuff like that. You want the real truth? The stuff you won't see in the news? Cas doesn't think he's an angel; he's actually an angel."

"Oh, good, now I can stop pretending," said Cas.

"Because the character we gave you was so different from your real life," Dean chided.

"We go around and take out the monsters hiding under the bed so people don't die," Sam continued his tirade. "That's the truth we live."

"That's… that's what you do? You all do? Your whole lives?" said Logan. "Saving people from… the things that no one knows exist?"

"Yeah, pretty much," said Dean. "It's the family business."

"That's… amazing," said Logan.

Everyone around the table stopped and stared, taken by surprise. They were unaccustomed to any kind of outright acceptance from people who hadn't seen a ghost or monster with their own eyes. Usually those people thought they were crazy or lying or running some kind of scam. But somehow this kid sat in this kitchen, with this motley assortment of judge and jury, enduring intense scrutiny, with his best company being the young woman he'd known for only four months, and believed them.

"To face danger like that—things everyone's terrified of even when they don't think they're real—for the sake of others, that's so… brave and selfless," said Logan.

Alex, Sam, and Dean all exchanged looks, rendered speechless by this turn of events.

Alex shifted in her chair to better face Logan. "Wait, so… you find out I hunt monsters with my dad and uncle, and you're not… terrified, or think we're absolutely insane? Telling you demons and vampires and shape shifters are real?"

Logan shrugged. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Alex looked back to her family, her jaw slack. A small smile graced Sam's face and he scoffed surprise, impressed by the quote; maybe Logan had a brain in his head after all. Dean gave an approving nod.

Then Alex pounced on Logan, smashing her mouth over his. Logan was just about as shocked as everyone else.

Castiel pointed at the two. "They are kissing! Alex is kissing him!"

Sam averted his gaze, slightly amused but mostly embarrassed. As he turned away, he caught sight of Dean, who was frozen in horror. Sam slowly covered his brother's eyes with a hand. Dean didn't resist.

"They're dating, Dean, they're going to kiss, just let it happen."

Dean gave a very quiet whine of distress.

They all stood at the bunker's door, Alex and Logan putting their jackets back on, making their goodbyes.

"Thank you both for dinner," Logan said, still a little shaky but mostly calmed down. What had been left of the encounter was primarily benign and trivial. None of them had seemed interested in causing more emotional upheaval after Alex's wanton display of affection. Castiel had stayed just long enough to finish his steak, then angeled away.

"Any time," replied Sam. Dean could tell he hadn't quite warmed back up to the youth, but was working his way there.

"Ready?" Alex asked, holding up the black sack.

Logan nodded, then bowed his head toward her.

"Hang on a sec," said Dean, stepping forward. "I just need a quick word with Logan."

Logan looked tired, but he was still obviously nervous.

Alex sighed. "Really, Dad?"

"I told you I would," Dean insisted.

Alex rolled her eyes. "Fine."

Dean put a rough hand on Logan's shoulder and walked him down the stairs to a remote spot where Sam and Alex couldn't overhear.

"Well, kid, I gotta admit, you don't seem half bad," Dean began, crossing his arms.

In this slightly darkened corner, all alone with Dean, the hunter seemed to tower over Logan once again. He managed to keep his wits about him this time instead of breaking into a sweat like he had upon their first meeting that evening.

"That's good, I suppose," Logan said lightly. "Thank you."

"Oh, there's definitely half of you that I do not like," Dean continued, making Logan cringe inwardly. "But there's bits and pieces that make me think you're actually a decent guy. And Alex sure seems to like you… and I trust her judgment. To an extent; she's still just seventeen. But… I get the impression she's pretty safe around you.

"However," and Dean took a few steps forward, invading Logan's space just enough to make him scrunch up and lean backwards slightly, "on the off chance you do something that does hurt her… in any way… I don't care if it's physical, emotional, psychological… I will kill you. And now I'm pretty sure you know I can. Quite easily. And it'll be slow, and painful, and no one will ever know I was the one who took you out. They won't even find your body. There won't be a body.

"Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Logan tried not to shake in fear. He knew Dean was only doing what he had to as a father, but it was still absolutely horrifying, because he believed him.

"Good!" Dean stepped back, his mood switching suddenly to pleasant, and he smacked Logan good-naturedly on the shoulder (although it was a pretty strong swing and stung where his hand made contact).

They walked back to Alex and Sam, Logan trailing behind.

"Now get back quick, okay?" Dean instructed Alex. "No hangin' around or chatting. Just drop him off, turn around and drive home. It's late and it's dark out."

"Okay, Dad," Alex replied.

"Okay," Dean agreed. "See you soon, baby girl."

Sam turned to the young man and extended a hand. "Good to meet you, Logan," he said.

Logan shook Sam's hand. "Good to meet you, too."

"Yeah, good to meet you," Dean echoed, extending his own hand.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Winchester." Logan shook in turn.

Then Alex blind-bagged her boyfriend and led him out into the darkness. The brothers watched them go. When the door shut, they both let loose the air they'd been holding in their lungs all night. They were exhausted at this point.

"Well, that was interesting," Sam commented.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I wonder how long we'll have to deal with him."

"Might be a while, Dean," Sam said. "They seem pretty serious already.

"She should probably start seeing an OB/GYN regularly."

"Oookay." Dean laid a hand on his brother's shoulder and with the other socked Sam in the stomach, making him double over with a gusty release of breath.

"It's for her health and safety," Sam croaked, clutching the handrail beside him.

"She's seventeen! He's nineteen! That's a felony! What the Hell is wrong with you?!" Dean yelled.

"Her birthday's in like three weeks," Sam replied, taking his time to recover.

"Yeah, well," Dean started, then lost his words as his desire to not think about the implications battled with the undeniable truth. He shook out his frustration. "God dammit, I hate when you're right!"

And he stalked off down the stairs.

A/N: Well, there it be! I hope you enjoyed it! I know I had fun writing it. Thank you so much for reading!

And yes, I did extend the time Alex and Logan have been together; it just made more sense.

Now get ready; Alex is going on an adventure! But remember, adventures are never fun while you're having them….

Of course that's a C.S. Lewis quote; what kind of fantasy-writing former English major would I be if I didn't use that one as often as logically possible?