March 1st-March 8th, 2006
"That's your fourth cup this morning."
It was mid-Wednesday morning when the particularly grating voice of Sawyer Voss broke through Lorelai's consciousness and she found herself looking up from the report she'd been studying, a challenging look in her eye.
"What's it to you?" she tossed back, and the other Auror raised his hands in a surrender motion before he pulled out the chair across from where she was sitting.
"Hey, if you wanna give yourself heart failure that's your own damn business. Maybe just not when I'm stuck working with you."
Lorelai stared back and deliberately took another drink from her coffee cup before turning her attention once more to the report. Voss fumed.
It was only her second day in Atlanta, but Lorelai couldn't wait to get the fuck out of there. When Nick had first asked her to help on this particular cursed objects case, she'd told him to kick rocks, but then Voss formally threw up the flag and requested MACUSA lend him a forensics tech, and with the lab still being short staffed, they'd sent her. The case itself was fine - a bit slow moving, but fine. Voss, however, was another story. He was at least competent, but Lorelai had never gotten along with him, even before they wound up in the same department. He was a few years older than her and an Ilvermorny graduate, but their paths had crossed as teens. Like Kirby, he thought her views on the wizarding world's relationship with the non-magical world were too radical, and when tensions had been building in the UK, he'd been one of the voices screaming that America should stay out of it.
"These magical signatures are a match," she informed him, sliding the report across the table and begrudgingly giving her attention back to Voss while she leaned back in her chair. He grabbed for the paper and scanned over the notes she made. "Whoever made those amulets your guy in Sedona was selling made these cursed rings."
Voss swore under his breath and Lorelai sipped at her coffee, silently glancing at the clock on the wall.
"So you think they've got the same supplier?" he asked, and Lorelai scoffed.
"I'm here for data analysis, not investigating your case."
"Oh, c'mon," Voss groaned, looking at her in disbelief. "You're an Auror too, not just one of those lab monkeys. You've gotta have a theory."
Lorelai's nostrils had flared at the lab monkeys comment, but Voss was saved her venomous reply by the sound of her phone ringing before she could lay into him. Lorelai grabbed it without even looking at the ID, pushing away from the table and standing as she answered.
"Auror Baudelaire."
"Auror Baudelaire? Since when are you so formal, kid?"
The sound of Bobby's gruff voice filled Lorelai's ears and with it came an easing of the tension that had been steadily building.
"Since I got stuck on babysitting duty," she said, shooting Voss a snide look to which he rolled his eyes. "How's it going?"
"I'm not even gonna ask," Bobby quipped back before continuing on. "Working a weird one out in Missoula, wanted to run it by you."
"Weird how?"
"I got five vics. Coroners saying they all died from 'severe internal burns', but it ain't like any internal burning I've ever seen before. Coroner can't explain it either – none of them were exposed to any sort of chemical, no signs of a struggle…"
"Any of 'em have anything in common?" she asked as Bobby trailed off.
"Aside from how they died? No."
"Where are the burns?" There was a beat before Bobby answered.
"Everywhere. If I didn't know any better, I'd say their blood was boiled."
"And did you –"
"I checked for hex bags, didn't find any… or any other signs of …"
"Call it witchcraft, I dare you," she interjected, her voice a little edgier than usual. She'd never been fond of the Muggles that paraded themselves as witches, relying on bartering with demons to get their powers – it was a practice that gave undue credence to the rhetoric Death Eaters had spun about Muggleborns in their time – but she'd been feeling even more resentful towards them as of late. She blamed the hatred in Dean's eyes that still haunted her dreams on occasion.
"Then give me another word for it," Bobby sighed, and Lorelai ground her teeth, knowing he had a point and that he also wasn't the problem. "Anyway, I didn't find anything. I've been through the lore books too, but I'm still coming up empty. Thought you might have some insight, given your… unique perspective. Ringin' any bells for you?."
It did, of course, but it wasn't knowledge Lorelai would advertise. There was old magic, older than the Unforgivebales that Lorelai was fairly certain had only evaded being lumped into the category because they were so largely forgotten when the legislation was established. She'd learned about it poking around some unorthodox sources that first year after Voldemort had come back, when the wizarding population of the UK was too busy trying to bury its head in the sand to do anything and her "advanced" exposure to a NEWT level Defense Against the Dark Arts class had been taught by Umbridge. There was a blood boiling hex that would fit the bill. It was relatively easy to pull off, not requiring the type same of intent the Unforgiveables did – which made it more dangerous in Lorelai's opinion, though that was another story.
"Could be one of ours," she admitted reluctantly. She doubted it, but it was possible. And if it were… well that was definitely the sort of thing that fell into her jurisdiction. And that made her mind start to go, already considering the possibilities. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Voss watching her with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance, and an idea began to form in her head. "And it could be really dangerous if we don't get a handle on it quickly."
"Now hold on," Bobby started to protest, but Lorelai cut him off.
"No, no, I insist. This is clearly an emergency situation. I'll be there as soon as I can."
Before Bobby could argue further, Lorelai hung up the phone and turned to Voss with an exaggerated look of concern on her face.
"Sorry, Voss, but duty calls. Looks like I'm needed on an urgent case in Montana. You'll have to finish up here without me."
Voss's eyebrows shot up. "What? But we're in the middle of a case!"
"No, you're in the middle of a case," she disagreed, already gathering her things, "and now I've got my own. I'm sure you understand, matter of life and death. I'll log my final report on those magical signatures with MACUSA soon as I can."
Without waiting for a response, Lorelai swept out of the room, leaving a bewildered Voss in her wake. As soon as she was out of sight, she let out a sigh of relief. The case in Atlanta had been dragging on, and the opportunity to work with Bobby was far more appealing than spending another day with Voss.
It was only a few hours later when Lorelai found herself walking across the parking lot of Grizzly Grove Motel, hands shoved in the pockets of her leather jacket as she spotted Bobby's familiar Chevelle not far from the room number he'd begrudgingly given her. She rapped sharply on the door, rocking back on her heels as she waited. After a moment she heard heavy footsteps approaching, and then the door swung open to reveal Bobby's weathered face, set in its typical mix of the exasperation and fondness he seemed to hold for her.
"Well that was fast," he remarked in a way of greeting. Lorelai shrugged, pushing past him into the room.
"Nice to see you too," she quipped, dropping her bag near the table and surveying the scene. If she had to guess, he'd been there a few days. Opened books and stray papers covered every inch of the table and dresser, and there were clippings and notes pinned to the wall. "Got any coffee?"
Bobby followed her, shaking his head. "You know, when I called, I was just looking for some insight, not for you to drop everything and come running."
"And miss out on all the fun?" she replied, her tone light but her eyes betraying a hint of mischief. "Not a chance. Besides, you know how much I love Montana this time of year."
Bobby snorted and closed the door, moving towards the coffee maker.
"Yeah, I'm sure that's it. Has nothing to do with you using me as an excuse to ditch whatever poor schmuck you were stuck working with."
Lorelai's grin turned sheepish. "That obvious, huh?"
"Kid, I've known you long enough to see right through your bullshit," Bobby said, but there was no real heat in his words. "Now, you gonna tell me what's really going on, or are we gonna dance around it all night?"
Lorelai's rolled her eyes, settling into one of the chairs. "I may have been looking to ditch a less-than-pleasant assignment in Atlanta. They stuck me helping Voss on forensics, and that guy's a real piece of work."
As the coffee began to brew, filling the space with its rich aroma, Bobby leaned against the counter, studying her.
"You're running yourself ragged, kid," he said, concern detectable in even his gruff voice. "What's been up with you these last few months?"
"I've just been busy, Bobby," she dismissed, attention focused on the slowly filling coffee pot. "New gig comes with more work. So, you've got five victims, all with severe internal burns. No obvious connection between them, no signs of a struggle, no hex bags. What else can you tell me?"
Bobby sighed, recognizing the deflection for what it was, but decided to let it slide for now. He grabbed two mugs from the shelf and set them on the counter.
"Not much more than that, I'm afraid. Victims range in age from 25 to 62, mix of men and women. Different neighborhoods, different jobs. Hell, they didn't even use the same grocery store."
Lorelai hummed thoughtfully, her mind already racing through possibilities. "And you're sure there were no hex bags?"
"Checked every nook and cranny," Bobby confirmed, taking the seat across from her and passing over one of the mugs. Lorelai wasted no time in bringing it to her lips and gulping down some of the liquid, ignoring the burn that followed. "Not so much as a suspicious-looking twig. No sulfur either, so probably not a demon. At least not directly."
Lorelai nodded, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. "Alright, let's start from the beginning. Walk me through everything you've found so far."
For the next hour, Bobby laid out all the details of the case. Lorelai listened intently, occasionally interjecting with questions or theories. As they talked, she felt the familiar thrill of a challenging case settling into her bones, pushing away the lingering exhaustion from her hectic schedule.
"I've got copies of the autopsy reports here," Bobby said, reaching for one of the many stacks of papers on the table. "Figured you'd want to take a look yourself."
Lorelai accepted the reports gratefully, flipping through them with practiced ease. Her eyes widened as she took in the gruesome details of the victims' injuries.
"Damn," she muttered. "This is... intense."
Bobby grunted in agreement. "That's putting it mildly. You ever seen anything like this before?"
Lorelai hesitated, her mind flashing to the blood-boiling hex she'd initially considered. She hadn't really thought that would be it, but as she studied the reports more closely, she could almost guarantee that it wasn't – the damage didn't quite match up. It was, however, closer than she expected.
"Not exactly," she admitted. "There are some similarities to certain dark spells, but this is... different. More thorough, if that makes sense."
Bobby looked grim. "It doesn't, but you're the expert. So, what's our next move? You think this could still be one of yours?"
"Not sure," Lorelai admitted. "It's possible, but I'd be surprised. The… randomness of the attacks doesn't make me think there's a human motive here. I think we need to take a closer look at the bodies. There might be something we're missing."
Bobby nodded, already stretching and standing. "Alright, let's head to the morgue. You got your fancy FBI badge with you?"
Lorelai smirked and withdrew her wand, quickly summoning it from her bag. Another flick and her outfit of jeans and a henley transformed into a pencil skirt and button-down, her boots morphing into heels.
"Ready when you are," she cheeked, and Bobby rolled his eyes.
"Show off," he muttered. "Us mere mortal still need to change."
"Perfect," Lorelai said, getting to her own feet. "I'll go check in, get a room. Meet you at the car in ten."
The drive to the morgue was short, filled with a comfortable silence that was a stark and welcome contrast to the bickering Lorelai had found herself engaged in over the course of the past twenty-four hours. And when they got there they flashed their badges to the attendant, who led them to the cold storage where the victims were being kept. The harsh fluorescent lights cast an eerie glow over the metal drawers, each one potentially holding the key to unraveling this mystery.
"Which one do you want to start with?" Bobby asked, his voice low in deference to their surroundings.
Lorelai considered for a moment. "Let's start with the most recent victim. Maybe there's something the others have lost over time."
The attendant pulled out the drawer, revealing the body of a middle-aged man. Even through the sheet covering him, Lorelai could sense the wrongness that permeated the air. As Bobby thanked the attendant and sent him on his way, Lorelai drew her wand, casting a quick series of detection spells.
"Anything?" Bobby asked, watching her work with a mixture of fascination and wariness.
Lorelai frowned, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Nothing magical, at least not in the way I was thinking. But there's definitely something... off."
She pulled back the sheet, revealing the victim's torso. The skin was mottled and discolored, a testament to the intense internal damage that had claimed his life. Lorelai leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing as she examined the body.
"Bobby," she said slowly, carefully examining one of the victim's hands, "look at this."
She swabbed under the nail, before waving her wand, a blowup of the trace evidence appearing between them as if they were looking through a microscope. Lorelai kept her eyes peeled on the door, making sure no one was there to see, but in her peripheral, she saw Bobby's eyes widen in recognition.
"Is that what I think it is?" he asked, his voice grave.
Lorelai nodded grimly. "Sulfur residue. Faint, but it's there."
Bobby swore under his breath. "Demons. Damn it, should've known. There wasn't anything at the scenes."
"It's not your fault," Lorelai assured him. "This is... different. More subtle than usual. If I hadn't been looking for magical traces, I might have missed it too."
They examined the other bodies, finding similar residue under all but one of the victim's nails. As they worked, Lorelai could feel the weight of the situation settling onto her shoulders. The demon problem was getting worse, not better, and they still didn't know why. That she hadn't made any progress in finding a solution that was more effective than exorcisms didn't sit well either.
Back in the car, Bobby turned to her, his face set in grim determination. "Well that was cheery," he quipped. Lorelai sighed, running a hand through her hair.
"We need to figure out who the demon is possessing. It's clearly trying to fly under the radar, which means it's probably someone who can move around town without drawing attention."
"Could be anyone," Bobby grumbled. "Delivery person, mailman, hell, even a cop."
"We'll need to look for patterns," Lorelai mused. "Maybe there's a connection between the victims we're not seeing. A shared service provider, a common hangout spot..."
As they drove back to the motel, Lorelai's mind raced with the possibilities. She knew they were on a tight timeline – there was the immediate threat, and then the fact that she was due to spend the weekend in London. She'd already missed Arthur's birthday the month before, having been stuck undercover in New Mexico at the time. There was no way she could miss Ron's birthday too, especially after he'd specifically forewarned her that he and Hermione had something to share with the family. Lorelai could already guess what the news might be, but that didn't make her attendance any less important. She felt a wave of guilt over the conflicting emotions that stirred up, but pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Lorelai and Bobby poured over maps, interviewed witnesses, and cross-referenced every piece of information they could get their hands on. They worked seamlessly together, their different approaches complementing each other in a way that made Lorelai grateful, not for the first time, that Ruskin had introduced them. She still missed working with her mentor but appreciated that at least she still had Bobby.
It was on the third day that they finally caught a break. A pattern emerged - all the victims had recently had their homes inspected by the same pest control company. A quick background check revealed that one of the employees, a man named Derek Simmons, had a recent history of petty crimes and unexplained absences from work.
"Well, looks like we've found our demon." Lorelai muttered. Bobby grunted in agreement, leaning back in his chair.
"Pest control. Perfect cover for getting into people's homes without raising suspicion."
Lorelai nodded, her mind already racing with possibilities. "We need to move fast. No telling how many more victims this thing has lined up."
They spent the next few hours planning their approach. Lorelai insisted on going in alone, arguing that her magical abilities gave her the best chance of subduing the demon quickly. Bobby, predictably, wasn't having it.
"Like hell you are," he growled, fixing her with a stern glare. "I didn't call you out here just to let you walk into a demon's lair by yourself. In fact, I didn't call you out here at all."
Lorelai rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of fondness in her exasperation. "I can handle myself, Bobby. You know that."
"Yeah, well, humor an old man, would ya?" Bobby retorted, already reaching for his shotgun. "Besides, two sets of eyes are better than one."
In the end, they compromised. Lorelai would take point, with Bobby providing backup. As they geared up, Lorelai couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. It had been a while since she'd worked a case like this with someone she truly trusted at her back.
The sun was just beginning to set as they pulled up to Derek Simmons' modest ranch-style house. The neighborhood they passed through was quiet, most folks likely settling in for dinner. Lorelai's hand tightened around her wand as they approached the front door, relieved that Simmons' house was set back from the others.
"Ready?" Bobby asked, positioning himself to one side.
Lorelai nodded, taking a deep breath. With a quick wave of her wand, the lock clicked open. She pushed the door wide, stepping into the dimly lit interior.
The smell hit her first - a sickly sweet odor that made her stomach churn. Beneath it, the faintest hint of sulfur. Lorelai wrinkled her nose, casting a silent detection spell. No immediate magical threats, but that didn't mean much when dealing with demons.
They moved cautiously through the house, Bobby covering their rear. The living room was a mess of takeout containers and discarded clothing. Clearly, whatever was wearing Derek Simmons' meat suit didn't care much for housekeeping.
A muffled thump from deeper in the house had both of them freezing. Lorelai met Bobby's eyes, seeing her own tension mirrored there. Silently, they crept towards the source of the noise.
The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, shadows dancing in the fading daylight. Lorelai's pulse quickened as they neared a closed door at the end. Another thump, followed by a low groan.
With a nod to Bobby, Lorelai raised her wand. The door flew open with a bang, revealing a scene straight out of a nightmare.
Derek Simmons - or rather, the thing wearing his body - stood over a young woman bound to a chair. Blood dripped from a gash on her forehead, her eyes wide with terror. The demon's head snapped towards them, black eyes gleaming with malice.
"Well, well," it drawled, a twisted smile spreading across its borrowed features. "Looks like we've got company."
Lorelai didn't hesitate. She waved her wand, sending a silent stunner in the demon's direction, and a jet of red light erupted from her wand.
The demon dodged with inhuman speed, launching itself at her. Lorelai barely had time to try throwing up a shield charm before it slammed into her, sending them both crashing into the hallway.
"Bobby!" she yelled, struggling to keep the demon at bay. "Get the girl!"
She heard Bobby's gruff acknowledgment as she grappled with the demon. Its strength was incredible, far beyond what Derek Simmons' body should have been capable of. Lorelai gritted her teeth and maneuvered just barely out of the thing's hold, casting a shield charm over the entrance to the room where Bobby was now tending to the girl.
"You're not like the others," the demon hissed, its fetid breath hot on her face. "What are you?"
Instead of answering, Lorelai fired back with a banishing charm. The demon flew backwards, crashing through the hallway wall in a shower of plaster and splinters.
Lorelai scrambled to her feet, wand at the ready. She could hear Bobby working to free the hostage, his low voice murmuring reassurances. The demon emerged from the rubble, its black eyes fixed on her with murderous intent.
"Witch," it spat, circling her warily. "Should have known. Your kind always did stick your noses where they don't belong."
"Funny," Lorelai retorted, matching its movements. "I was about to say the same thing about you demons."
The demon lunged again, but this time Lorelai was ready. She sidestepped, firing off a barrage of stunning spells and hexes. The demon twisted and dodged, impossibly fast, but one spell clipped its shoulder. It stumbled, snarling in pain and fury.
Lorelai pressed her advantage, backing the demon into a corner. She could feel the familiar thrum of adrenaline coursing through her veins, the world narrowing to this singular moment of conflict.
"Exorcizamus te," she began, her voice steady and clear. The demon's eyes widened in recognition and fear.
"No!" it screamed, lunging at her one final time.
Lorelai met it head-on, her wand a blur of motion as she continued the exorcism. Latin spilled from her lips, each word imbued with power. The demon writhed and howled, black smoke beginning to seep from its host's mouth and nose.
With a final, gut-wrenching scream, the demon was expelled. Derek Simmons' body collapsed to the ground, the black smoke dissipating into nothingness. Lorelai sagged against the wall, suddenly exhausted.
"You alright?" Bobby's gruff voice came from behind her.
Lorelai nodded, turning to see him supporting the shaken but apparently unharmed hostage. "Yeah. You?"
"Peachy," Bobby grunted. "Girl's okay too. Bit rattled, but no serious injuries."
They spent the next hour cleaning up. Lorelai gave the girl something to sedate her and then went about healing the girl's wounds while she was unconscious. By rights, she knew she should have modified her memories, but Bobby wasn't about to make her and Lorelai decided no one would believe the girl anyway if she talked.
Bobby dealt with Derek Simmons, who was, unfortunately, was no longer breathing. By the time they left, the house looked almost normal, save for its missing occupant and the unconscious girl inside.
Outside, Lorelai slumped into the passenger seat of the car, every muscle aching. Bobby glanced in her direction as he turned over the engine, before starting off down the road.
"Hell of a fight," he commented, and Lorelai nodded tiredly.
"Yeah. Bastard was strong. Stronger than it should have been."
Bobby's brow furrowed. "You think there's more to it?"
"I don't know," Lorelai admitted. "But something's not adding up. The increase in demon activity, their newfound subtlety... it feels like we're missing a piece of the puzzle."
They lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Lorelai's mind raced, trying to connect the dots. There had to be a pattern, a reason for all of this. But the more she grasped at it, the more it seemed to slip away. The fact that she'd yet to find a better solution than exorcisms was eating at her too. She'd been so busy it had fallen to the backburner, but if things were going to continue on this way, it was something she needed to get serious about.
"You heading out tomorrow?" Bobby asked, breaking the silence.
Lorelai shook her head, glancing at her watch. "Nah, I'll probably back up and leave when we get back. I was due at Harry's three hours ago."
Bobby looked like he wanted to argue, concern clear in his expression, but after a moment he grunted in acknowledgment.
"Maybe just try and get some rest while you're over there, would ya? You look like you're about to keel over."
Dean Winchester had been in some pretty fucked-up, shitty situations before, but this? This took the cake.
His head still throbbed, wrists still ached from when the freak that stole his face had gotten the drop on him, and the sounds coming from the second floor didn't make him feel good about how Sam was faring. For a case that hadn't even seemed like a damn case in the beginning, this thing had really gotten away from them. Even once they ganked the monster, the ABP that had been put out on him was going to put a damper on things for a while, and Dean hadn't even started to think about how to manage that.
Damn Sam and his too-big heart and insistence that he could have both worlds - hunting and normal - though somewhere Dean knew that feeling was spurred more by his own bitterness and resentment than any actual annoyance with his brother. Somewhere deep, deep down.
Dean's boots pounded against the floor as he reached the top of the stairs, dimly aware that Rebecca was somewhere behind him. The sounds of the fight were easy to follow and Dean pushed himself as hard as he could, desperate to get there, hoping like hell that Sam at least had the upper hand. As he reached the doorway, however, it the scene waiting for him only confirmed that it was really not his day.
Sam lay on the floor, his face turning an alarming shade of red as the shifter - wearing Dean's face - straddled him, hands wrapped tightly around his throat. For a split second, Dean froze, the surreal sight of himself trying to kill his brother sending a chill down his spine.
"Hey!"
He'd called out instinctively, almost without thinking, and he cursed himself when the shifter lunged at him before he could properly aim the gun.
Dean's head hit the floor with a dull crack, and everything blurred. He was still down when the shifter hauled him up and tossed him back further out into the hallway. It was as his vision slowly cleared that Dean took in the sight of his own face staring back at him, wearing a twisted smirk that looked all wrong on the features he knew so well. It made his stomach churn, but he breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw Rebecca, still battered and bloodied, retreat back down the stairs into the shadows. He was pretty sure the shifter hadn't spotted her yet.
"You know, I gotta hand it to you," the shifter said, hovering over him with unsettling grace. "You've got some pretty interesting stuff rattling around in that head of yours."
Dean gritted his teeth as he tried to shuffle back, remembering what Sam had said about the thing seeming to do some sort of Vulcan mind-meld.
"Yeah?" he taunted back. "Why don't you come a little closer, and I'll show you just how interesting I can be?"
The shifter laughed, a chilling sound coming from Dean's own throat. "Now, now. No need to be hostile. We're practically family, after all. I know everything about you, Dean. Every fear, every insecurity... every heartbreak."
Dean's blood ran cold as the shifter's eyes glinted with malice. He knew where this was going, and he wasn't ready for it.
"Poor Dean," the creature taunted, grabbing him and leaning in close. "Always the good soldier, always putting everyone else first. But where has that gotten you, huh? Daddy's gone missing, Sammy left you behind, and let's not forget about that pretty little witch of yours."
"Shut up," Dean growled, his fists clenching as the shifter pressed on, relishing in the pain flickering across Dean's face.
"Lorelai, wasn't it? Man, you really thought you had something special there, didn't you? A chance at normalcy, at happiness. But then she had to go and ruin it all by being one of the very things you hunt."
Dean's jaw clenched, memories of Lorelai flashing through his mind. Her laugh, her fierce determination, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled at him. And then, the hurt and anger in those same eyes when he'd reacted so poorly to her revelation.
"It's not like that," Dean muttered, more to himself than to the shifter.
"Oh, but it is," the creature insisted, circling behind Dean. "You push everyone away, Dean. You tell yourself it's to protect them, but deep down? You're scared. Scared of letting anyone get too close, scared of what might happen if you actually let yourself be happy."
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the words that hit far too close to home. He thought of Sam, lying on the floor of the other room. He thought of his dad, out there somewhere, maybe in danger. And despite his best efforts, he thought of Lorelai, and the life he'd briefly allowed himself to imagine with her.
"You're wrong," Dean said, his voice hoarse. "You don't know anything about me."
The shifter chuckled, moving back into Dean's line of sight. "Oh, but I do. I know everything, Dean. I know how much it kills you that you pushed her away. How you lie awake at night, wondering if you made the biggest mistake of your life. How you're terrified that you'll never find that kind of connection again."
Dean's heart raced, anger and pain warring inside him. He wanted to deny it, to tell the shifter to go to hell, but the words stuck in his throat. Because as much as he hated to admit it, the creature wasn't entirely wrong.
He missed Lorelai. Missed her wit, her strength, the way she understood him without him having to say a word. For a brief, shining moment, he'd allowed himself to believe that he could have it all – the hunt, and a partner who truly got it.
But then reality had come crashing down, and he'd reacted out of fear and ingrained prejudice. He'd pushed her away, convinced himself it was for the best. And now, months later, he was still paying the price.
"It doesn't matter," Dean said, forcing steel into his voice. "None of that matters right now. What matters is stopping you from hurting anyone else."
The shifter's grin widened, a predatory gleam in its eyes. "Oh, Dean. Always the hero, aren't you? But who's going to save you?"
Dean made to swing, but the shifter caught the attempt, and the next thing knew they were grappling, trading blows. Dean's instincts finally kicked in, fueled by rage and desperation as they crashed into a nearby room, further away from Rebecca and Sam.
As they stumbled into the room, Dean shoved the shifter against the wall, feeling the solid impact resonate in his bones. "You think you know me?" he spat, the words barely escaping between clenched teeth.
"Oh but I do," the shifter managed to get out, its voice dripping with mockery. "And you know, Dean, I almost feel sorry for you. Always the dutiful son, the protective big brother. But when it comes down to it, you're alone. You pushed away the one person who might have actually understood you."
"You don't know what you're talking about," he growled, but the words felt hollow even to his own ears, and worse, his distraction gave the shifter the opportunity it needed to slip out of the hold he'd been in and land its own kick. Dean felt the wind get knocked out of him as he stumbled back. The shifter followed, laughing, a chilling sound coming from Dean's own throat.
"I know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm in your head, remember? I know how much you miss her. How it tears you up inside, thinking of how broken she looked when you held that gun on her."
Dean lunged forward, his fist connecting with the shifter's jaw. The creature stumbled back, but its smirk remained firmly in place.
"Hit a nerve, did I?" it goaded. "Face it, Dean. You're weak. Always have been. That's why you couldn't make it work with her. That's why you'll never be able to protect Sam. You're not strong enough. You're nothing but a scared little boy, playing at being hero. And sooner or later, everyone you care about is going to realize that and leave you. Just like Sam did. Just like she did. And in the end, you'll die alone. Just another hunter who couldn't outrun his demons."
Something in Dean snapped. With a roar of rage and pain, he tackled the shifter, sending them both crashing to the ground. They grappled furiously, rolling across the floor, knocking into furniture as they went.
"You're wrong," Dean panted, pinning the creature beneath him. "You don't know anything about me."
The shifter grinned up at him, blood staining its teeth. "Don't I? I know you're tired, Dean. Tired of the life, tired of the loneliness. You thought you had a chance at something real with Lorelai, didn't you? A way to balance the hunt with a semblance of normalcy. But you blew it, and now you're right back where you started – alone, angry, and scared."
Dean's fist connected with the shifter's face once, twice, three times. But even as he unleashed his fury, he couldn't escape the truth in the creature's words. He was tired. He was lonely. And he did miss Lorelai, more than he cared to admit.
With a final, desperate surge of strength, Dean reached for his dropped gun. The shifter, sensing its end was near, made one last attempt to get under Dean's skin.
"You can kill me, Dean," it gasped, "but you can't kill the truth. You're destined to be alone. It's safer that way, isn't it? Can't lose anyone if you never let them in."
Dean's finger tightened on the trigger. "Maybe," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "But at least I'll still be fighting. That's more than I can say for you."
The gunshot echoed through the house, and the shifter's body went limp beneath him. Dean rolled off, panting heavily, his entire body aching from the fight.
As the adrenaline began to fade, Dean found himself overwhelmed by the emotions the shifter had dragged to the surface. He missed Lorelai. He was scared of being alone. And despite his best efforts to convince himself otherwise, he did want more than just the hunt.
But as he pushed himself to his feet, wincing at his injuries, Dean shoved those feelings back down. He had a job to finish, a brother to get back to. There was no time for self-reflection or regret.
Still, as he made his way back to Sam, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted inside him. The shifter's words had hit too close to home, exposing vulnerabilities he'd tried so hard to bury.
Sam and Rebecca, although not in great shape, were okay, and that was the best thing Dean could say about the last few days. He and Sam got Rebecca cleaned up and started trying to figure out what their best play would be from there. But even as they talked and went over the damage, Dean couldn't shake the shifter's words from his mind. Because as much as he wanted to deny it, a part of him feared that the monster wearing his face had been right.
He was weak. He was a failure. And sooner or later, everyone he cared about would realize that and leave him.
Just like she had.
Wednesday morning dawned bright and early, and Lorelai found herself enveloped by the bustling energy of MACUSA's headquarters as she strode across the ground floor. The click of her boots against the polished floor would have echoed in the cavernous space were it not drowned out by the sounds of the chatter from witches and wizards going about their day, the flutter of interdepartmental memos zooming overhead, and the occasional flash of spell work. She nodded in greeting to a few familiar faces, but her mind was already racing ahead to the day's tasks.
As she approached the elevator, a hand caught her elbow. Lorelai turned, coming face to face with Ethan, a wizard from the Magical Transportation Department, his brown eyes sparkling with warmth as he gave her a flirtatious smile. She'd, frustratingly, been having difficulty going back to her old ways in recent months, all of her hookups leaving her feeling as empty and hollow as the encounter with Matt had back in October. Ethan had been her latest attempt to rectify that – they'd been out a few times, nothing serious and very clearly no strings attached, and often times they'd spend some… quality time together when she was in town.
"Hey, stranger," he said, falling into step beside her. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon. How was your trip?"
Lorelai shrugged, memories of the long weekend back home dancing in her head as she stepped into the elevator. "It was fine. Just a quick visit with family."
Ethan nodded, leaning against the wall of the elevator. "Well, I'm glad you're back. Dinner tonight? There's this new place in the Village I've been wanting to try."
Lorelai smiled at him affectionately, but hesitated, that restlessness she never seemed able to shake blooming to life stronger than normal.
"Maybe. Not sure if I'm sticking around tonight."
"Come on," he cajoled, his smile turning playful. "All work and no play makes Lorelai a dull witch."
The elevator dinged, arriving at Lorelai's floor. She stepped out, Ethan following close behind.
"Maybe," she conceded, more to end the conversation than out of any real interest. "I'm heading into a meeting now, and I'll know after if I've got a case or not."
Ethan's face lit up. "Great! I'll swing by your office later."
As he turned to leave, Lorelai felt a twinge of... something. Not quite guilt, not quite annoyance. She pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
Rounding the corner, she nearly collided with Nick, who was balancing a precarious stack of files in one arm and a cup of coffee in the other.
"Whoa there," Nick said, narrowly avoiding spilling his coffee. "In a hurry?"
Lorelai raised an eyebrow, sipping at her own half-full to-go cup. "Aren't I always? What's with the file mountain?"
Nick grimaced. "New case assignments. Conklin wants to go over them in the team meeting this morning."
"Joy," Lorelai muttered, falling into step beside Nick as they continued towards the conference room. "Any chance there's something interesting in there for me?"
Nick shot her a sidelong glance. "You just got back from a case with Singer. And how about wrapping up that thing with Voss you bailed on last week? Don't think I didn't hear about that."
Lorelai rolled her eyes, pausing at her door.
"Voss is being a baby if he came running to you about it. We weren't even working it together, I was there for forensics help only, because you guys were short staffed, which I provided."
"Yeah, well I'll let Conklin tackle that one with you," Nick sighed, shaking his head before continuing on. "I'll see you in there."
Lorelai took the next few minutes settling in, checking the mail that had piled up on her desk and getting a new cup of coffee before drifting into the conference room.
It was already half-full with other Aurors and case managers, and Lorelai claimed a seat near the back next to Nick, grateful for the chance to observe without being the center of attention. Across the room, Margo caught her eye and smiled. Caputo, a few feet over, noticed her and frowned, and Voss spared her a glare as he entered – a glare that Lorelai returned with a bright smile while she deliberately drank down more of her coffee.
Conklin's arrival brought everyone's chatter to an immediate stop, his presence commanding attention as he strode to the front of the room. His expression was serious as he surveyed the assembled group, and Lorelai made a mental note to tease him about it later.
"Alright, folks," he began without preamble. "We've got a lot to cover this morning, so let's get started.
As Conklin launched into updates on ongoing cases, Lorelai found her mind wandering. The weekend at the Burrow had been a welcome respite, filled with the warmth and chaos that always accompanied Weasley family gatherings. Ron and Hermione's news - they were expecting their first child - had been met with joyous celebration. And yet, even surrounded by loved ones, Lorelai had felt a lingering sense of disconnect, as if she were watching the scenes unfold from behind a pane of glass.
It wasn't until Conklin mentioned a familiar name that Lorelai's focus snapped back to the present.
"...Winchester case in St. Louis."
Lorelai's head jerked up, her heart suddenly pounding. "I'm sorry, what?"
Conklin raised an eyebrow at her interruption but continued. "As I was saying, we've closed the file on the Winchester case in St. Louis. Dean Winchester was found dead..."
The rest of Conklin's words faded into a dull roar as Lorelai's world tilted on its axis.
Dead. Dean was dead.
The thought echoed in her mind, each repetition like a physical blow. She felt the blood drain from her face, her fingers going numb around her coffee. Suddenly it felt like the walls were closing in, the air felt thinner.
She was vaguely aware of the meeting continuing around her, but she couldn't focus on anything beyond the thundering of her own heartbeat. Images of Dean flashed through her mind - his cocky grin, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the feel of his calloused hands on her skin.
The room started to go fuzzy and spin, faces blurring while her mind still struggled to process the information. It had been five months… they'd been apart at this point about as long as they'd been… whatever they'd been… but it didn't matter. It didn't even matter that he hated her. The thought of the world without Dean Winchester in it made her feel sick.
A sharp pain in her side jolted Lorelai back to reality. She turned to find Nick looking at her with concern, having just elbowed her discreetly. All she could do was stare back dumbly, confused and lost.
"Lorelai," Nick's voice cut through the fog, low and urgent so that only she could hear. "Lorelai, listen. It wasn't him."
She blinked, focusing on Nick's face with effort. "What?"
Nick squeezed her arm gently and pushed a report into her hand.
"It wasn't Dean. Our team examined the body - it was the shifter. Dean's alive."
Relief washed over Lorelai in a dizzying wave. She sagged in her chair, letting out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"You okay?" Nick murmured, concern evident in his eyes.
Lorelai nodded, not trusting her voice. Nick didn't look like he believed her, but he let it drop, turning his attention back to Conkin, though it didn't escape her attention that he shifted closer, subtly making sure to keep his leg pressed against hers in a silent show of support.
As the meeting continued, Lorelai barely registered the words being spoken. Her mind was reeling, the fear and relief of the past few minutes leaving her feeling raw and exposed.
When Conklin finally dismissed them, Lorelai was the first one out the door. She made a beeline for her office, needing a moment to collect herself before facing the rest of the day.
She had barely made it inside when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she found Nick in the doorway, concern etched on his features.
"You want to talk about it?" he asked gently. Lorelai shook her head, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I'm fine, Nick. Really. Just caught me off guard, that's all."
Nick didn't look convinced, but he nodded, knowing a losing battle when he saw one.
"Alright. But you know I'm here if you need to talk, right?"
"I know," Lorelai said softly. "Thanks."
The rest of her morning passed in a blur. She had a deposition to give she'd already pushed three times, Ezra had a mountain of evidence he wanted her opinion on, and there were her own reports she'd fallen woefully behind on. It was as she was heading back to her office from the breakroom around lunchtime, coffee number… five? six? she wasn't sure… in hand, that she remembered her conversation with Ethan from that morning.
"There you are!"
Lorelai's eyes snapped open, startled to find him perched on the edge of her desk as she approached the door, a boyish grin on his face.
"Ethan," she greeted, forcing a smile. "What are you doing here?"
He stood, crossing the room to stand in front of her.
"Figured I'd check in about tonight. Maybe convince you to take a late lunch if I'm lucky?"
His hand came to rest on her waist, and Lorelai had to resist the urge to flinch away. The touch that had been exciting just hours ago now felt... wrong, somehow.
"I... I can't," she said, stepping back slightly. "I've got a lot to catch up on after being away."
Disappointment flashed across Ethan's face, quickly replaced by determination. "Come on, Lorelai. You work too hard. One hour won't kill you."
As he leaned in, clearly intending to kiss her, Lorelai found herself overwhelmed by a sudden wave of irritation. She ducked away, moving to put her desk between them.
"I said no, Ethan," she snapped, her voice harsher than she'd intended. "I'm not in the mood, okay?"
Ethan blinked, taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. "Whoa, okay, yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push. Are you alright?"
Lorelai sighed, running a hand through her hair. She didn't have time for this, and she was getting tired of everyone asking her if she were okay.
"I'm fine. I just... I don't think this is working out."
The words tumbled out before she could stop them, surprising even herself. But as soon as they were spoken, she knew they were true. Whatever spark had existed between them had fizzled out, leaving nothing but a vague sense of annoyance in its wake.
"What?" Ethan asked, confusion evident in his voice. "I thought things were going well between us. We were having fun at least."
Lorelai shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. "They were... fine. But I'm not looking for anything serious, Ethan. You know that."
"I know, I just..." he trailed off, hurt creeping into his expression. "I thought maybe..."
"I'm sorry," Lorelai said, and she meant it. Ethan was a nice guy, he didn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire of her emotional turmoil. "You're great, really. I'm just not in a place for... this. Whatever it is."
Ethan was quiet for a moment, studying her face. "Is there someone else?"
"No," Lorelai answered quickly. Too quickly. "No, there's no one else. I just need to focus on work right now."
It wasn't entirely a lie, she told herself. There wasn't anyone else, not really. The fact that her mind immediately conjured an image of Dean's face was irrelevant.
Ethan nodded slowly, resignation settling over his features. "Okay. I get it. I'll, uh... I'll see you around, I guess."
As he made his way to the door, Lorelai felt a twinge of guilt. "Ethan," she called, causing him to pause. "I really am sorry."
He offered her a small, sad smile. "Yeah, me too."
The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Lorelai alone with her thoughts. She slumped into her chair, suddenly exhausted. What was wrong with her? Ethan had been fun, uncomplicated. Exactly what she needed to take her mind off... everything else.
But as she sat there, staring blankly at the pile of paperwork on her desk, Lorelai couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. The news about Dean, false as it had turned out to be, had shaken her more than she cared to admit. And now, the thought of continuing her casual fling with Ethan felt... wrong, somehow.
Lorelai shook her head, frustrated with herself. She was being ridiculous. Dean was fine. He was alive and well, probably off on some new hunt with John, not sparing her a second thought. And here she was, throwing away a perfectly good arrangement because of some misplaced feelings she couldn't even name.
With a determined set to her jaw, Lorelai pulled the first file from her stack of paperwork. She needed to get her head on straight, to focus on her work. That's what she was good at, after all. Everything else... well, she'd deal with that later.
Sorry to keep everyone waiting on this, thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed 😊
Please bear with me this month - I did not realize how insanely busy it was going to be. I think I'm traveling every weekend except this one? Next chapter will be up no later than 10/22, but I'm going to try for sooner. November I should be more back to normal.
You are all the best! Thank you again for reading, and for all of your feedback - it means the world to me
