June 19th-22nd, 2006

As it turned out, it didn't take long for Dean's striga theory to be proven out. It was their first morning in Fitchburg that Sam finally found the information he was looking for, confirming what Dean had remembered… that the monster went exclusively after children, and fed off their spiritus vitae.

When Dean had asked what the hell spiritus vitae was, Sam had described it as a person's life force or essence. Lorelai's eyes had lit up at the term, immediately striking up a conversation with Olivia about something called Dementors that Dean could hardly follow.

In the end, even though they'd gotten an answer, it didn't feel like their research had done them much good. Lorelai had a theoretical approach on how to ward against the striga that seemed all but useless, especially large scale. Olivia was able to stall the kids from deteriorating as fast as they would without her intervention but had no way to actually counteract what was happening to them. And nothing they'd found had information on how to find or kill the damn thing. It was only because Dean remembered that you could take the sucker out with consecrated wrought iron while it was feeding that they had any semblance of a plan.

And, of course, to top it all off, they had no leads on which human the striga was disguising itself as – Dean had had a theory, suspecting the old woman with inverted crucifix he'd seen at the hospital, but it had been a complete bust. One Lorelai and Sam had both gotten quite a kick out of.

"Oh man, you shoulda seen your face," Sam had howled as the three of them had climbed back out of the car. Dean had grumbled back, but his irritation had been somewhat tempered by the fact that, at least for a few minutes, Lorelai had gotten so swept up sharing in Sam's amusement, she'd forgotten she was supposed to be hating Dean. She even smiled at him before she'd slipped back into her room that night, hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before they got back to it in the morning.

It was before breakfast on Thursday that Dean heard music as he got out of the shower. His ears strained while he toweled off and dressed, and he couldn't quite stop the smirk that spread across his face when he realized it was The Rolling Stones. Something told him Lorelai was up and about.

He ran into Sam in the hallway, the noise seeming to have drawn him out from their room, and sure enough, as Dean padded down the hallway towards the kitchen, it was to stumble across a scene that was all too reminiscent of the first morning he'd ever spent with Lorelai.

She was by herself, still dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts he assumed she'd slept in, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun with tendrils falling down around her face. There was a mug of coffee clutched in her hand as she moved about, and Dean spotted the half-full pot still sitting on the counter, which was when he also noticed the array of half chopped vegetables spread across the space as well.

Lorelai didn't notice him or Sam at first, humming and singing to herself along with the record, her hips swaying and head bouncing with the music. Sam's eyes widened in surprise, but Dean could only smile, totally drawn into watching her. This lighthearted, carefree version of her was the woman he dreamed about, the one he'd fallen so hard for, and it was impossible to look away. The mug of coffee was traded out for a knife after she'd taken another sip from it, and she started chopping potatoes.

At first, Lorelai moved with a grace and agility that reminded Dean of watching her out in the field, but the illusion was quickly shattered when seconds later she sliced out a brown spot and tried to throw it into the sink. The piece missed spectacularly and bounced off the rim of a large mixing bowl, right into her coffee. Lorelai cursed under her breath, immediately dropping the knife, but it was Dean's snort that finally alerted her to his and Sam's presence.

She looked over her shoulder curiously while trying to fish the chunk of potato from her drink, but grimaced when her fingers made contact with the liquid. Dean fully expected he'd pay for it, but his smile widened, and he laughed, shaking his head at her while he did.

"Guess some things never change, huh?"

But instead of narrowing her eyes like Dean anticipated, Lorelai's cheeks flushed, a real smile spreading across her own face to match his, and light laughter ringing out over the music.

"Guess not," she agreed, moving to the sink to dump out the coffee and rinse her hand. "Morning, Sam!"

"Morning, Lorelai," Sam returned, laughter underlying his voice too, laced with some level of confusion. Lorelai drew her wand and with a wave the music quieted, though it continued to play, Gimme Shelter playing out over the airwaves. Dean had almost forgotten his brother was standing there with them, and pointedly ignored the way Sam was now looking between them.

"What're you doing?" Dean asked when she went back for the knife, arching an eyebrow, both he and Sam taking a step closer now that she knew they were there.

"Oh, I'm just –"

The door opened at that moment and Olivia came through, balancing what looked like a box of donuts and a stack of mail in her hands. Upon taking in the scene, her face immediately morphed into an expression of concern.

"What're you doing?" she asked, unknowingly repeating Dean's question, her voice filled with wariness as she dropped the box and the mail onto the counter and came to stand on Dean's other side. Lorelai looked over her shoulder again and this time rolled her eyes, though there was no real heat in it.

"Working on dinner," she told them all, motioning to the crock pot Dean hadn't spotted before, sitting on the counter, camouflaged by rest of the mess. "Why does everyone get so concerned when they see me in a kitchen?"

"Well, sweetheart, I've had your cooking," Dean quipped back. Lorelai opened her mouth, an affronted look on her face he could tell was partially for show, but Sam stepped in before she could retort.

"Hey, I didn't say anything," he pointed out, holding up his hands in surrender while he made his way to the pot of coffee. Lorelai shot him an appreciative look, but Olivia was already talking.

"Only because you're too ignorant to know better. Years of living with her gives me good cause to be concerned."

"Oh, you're being dramatic," Lorelai dismissed. Olivia scoffed, even as she moved to join Lorelai in the kitchen.

"Dramatic?"

"Yes, dramatic. We haven't lived together for a long time, and I've become an excellent cook since then, for your information."

"Oh, I somehow very much doubt that," Oliva laughed.

"You guys don't have some sort of spell or something to make it easier?" Sam asked curiously, leaning back against the counter, mug now in hand. Dean caught the way Lorelai's cheeks flushed, and Olivia laughed… hard.

"We do," Lorelai admitted, and Dean caught her eye, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"So why are you doing it by hand?" he asked.

"Because she's a danger to herself and others when she adds magic into the mix," Olivia answered.

"Hey!"

"Oh, come on. How else do you explain what happened to our kitchen table in fourth year? Or how about the oven you destroyed beyond magical repair in fifth? Oh! Or the fingers you sliced clean off in sixth?"

"Fingers?" Sam and Dean asked simultaneously.

"They're fine," Lorelai told them quickly, wiggling the fingers on her left hand for emphasis. "Magic can heal quite a bit. And none of that's fair," she added, turning to glare at Olivia. "I was learning."

"Learning," Olivia snorted, finally moving Lorelai out of the way, the disbelief clear in her voice. Dean watched Lorelai frown while she went about pouring more coffee into her mug while Olivia waved her wand, and the knife Lorelai had been wielding before began chopping the vegetables seemingly of its own accord. It was still somewhat eerie to Dean, but after a few days around the two witches, he was getting a little more used to these casual displays of magic.

"Yes, learning," Lorelai insisted, before pausing, her frown deepening. "Except maybe the fingers. We'll call that an alcohol-induced injury."

"Mmhmm," Olivia hummed, clearly unconvinced. "How about the time you nearly burned our apartment down trying to make macaroni and cheese? Or when you sent me an SOS because you were trying to make Chicken Francese and didn't want Nick to know you'd managed to give yourself third degree burns? Those were both well after graduation."

Lorelai seemed to struggle for half a beat before finally sighing in defeat, grabbing for the mail Olivia had brought in.

"We've been friends for too damn long," she complained. Olivia only smiled and continued on with what she was doing, taking over for Lorelai seamlessly, though her magic seemed to do most of the work.

And as Olivia resituated the kitchen, the four of them ended up settling in around the kitchen table as they discussed their game plan for the day, digging into the donuts Olivia had gotten as they did. Her plan, of course, was the same as it had been the last few days – go back to the hospital and do what she could for the kids. It was really Dean, Sam, and Lorelai that needed a "next step."

"We can try and dig into the history on this thing," Sam offered. "Maybe there's something we can get out of that, and at least we've got a starting point."

"What, you mean Fort Douglas?" Dean asked, and Sam nodded.

"Yeah. Maybe there's something there that can help us zero in on what's going on better. Maybe I can find other cases, figure out a pattern or something. We need more to work with than what we've got."

"It's not a bad idea," Lorelai chimed in, her eyes scanning a newspaper. Dean had to do a doubletake when he noticed the black and white photos on the front page were moving, his head spinning until he remembered that the photos in the books from Bobby did the same thing.

"We could go to the library after breakfast," Dean suggested, forcing his eyes away from the bizarre sight. Lorelai and Sam both nodded, but then Lorelai frowned, her brow furrowing as she squinted at something.

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me. Have you read this garbage?" she asked, looking over to Olivia. Lorelai's generally easy-going friend suddenly looked uncomfortable and shifted in her seat, bringing the donut she was eating to her mouth.

"Depends which garbage you're asking me about," she muttered, and Lorelai narrowed her eyes further.

"I'm talking about Glenn Asp saying MACUSA isn't doing anything about the rising demon activity because we're not willing to discuss classified information with her. What garbage are you talking about?"

"That garbage," Olivia agreed quickly, her voice rising in pitch. It didn't take a genius to realize she was lying, and Dean was unsurprised when Lorelai raised eyebrow skeptically before turning her attention back to the newspaper, her eyes narrowing in focus. "What about the security footage?" Olivia continued on as if nothing had happened, though Dean could detect the slight edge to her voice. "Is it at all possible there's something we could have missed?"

Dean very much doubted that Lorelai missed anything, he'd worked with her enough to trust her eyes, but it had also been a few days since she checked the tapes and when she'd checked them, she hadn't known they were looking for a striga.

"Not impossible," he shrugged. "Not likely. But not impossible."

"You and Lorelai could go back over to the hospital," Sam suggested, "double check. You guys could meet me at the library after."

"What, you don't want our help researching?" Dean asked, and Sam snorted.

"Just think I'll focus better with you two out of my hair for a little." Olivia gave a small chuckle, and Dean opened his mouth, ready to retort in both his and Lorelai's defense, but it seemed that Lorelai had finally found whatever Olivia had been referencing before.

"Son of a bitch!"

And while Sam and Dean were both surprised at Lorelai's outburst, Olivia merely looked resigned.

"Here we go," Olivia muttered. Dean couldn't tell if Lorelai heard or not. She just threw the newspaper onto the table and turned towards Olivia, looking more outraged than Dean had ever seen her.

"Did you know about this?" she demanded. Olivia pursed her lips, thinking, and the hesitation was an answer all on its own.

"I'd heard it was happening," Olivia finally said, "but I didn't see the article until this morning. I was hoping you wouldn't see it at all, but I should have known better."

"Olivia!"

"What's going on?" Sam asked. His voice seemed to give Lorelai pause, and she froze, seemingly unsure of what to say. Dean took advantage of her temporary distraction, his own curiosity getting the better of him, and tried to crane his neck to see what had gotten her so riled up. Even sitting next to her, however, he could only make out the headlines, and none of them held any meaning to him.

"Lorelai, it's not a –" Olivia began as if Sam hadn't spoken, and Lorelai snapped out of her temporary trance.

"So help me, if you say 'it's not a big deal' –"

"Look, I get why you're upset, but –"

"Upset?" Lorelai parroted back, her voice becoming slightly shrill. "I'm fucking furious. And the fact that they printed that absolute nonsense –"

"So what are you gonna do?" Olivia interjected. "Call the paper? All you're going to do is create more drama, and more headlines. You know they aren't going to print a retraction."

"The hell they aren't!"

Dean may not have known what was wrong, but he knew Lorelai well enough to realize that she was too emotional to be capable of any rational thought, and from the expression on Olivia's face, she knew it too.

"Lorelai, the last thing you need is to start popping off at reporters again. You've got every right to be pissed, but there's nothing you can do that won't blow up worse in your face. And anyone that you care about will see right through what's in there, so it doesn't matter. I'm begging you, do not self-destruct over this."

There was a tense silence following Olivia's plea, during which Dean shared a confused, uncomfortable look with Sam. Lorelai was a ball of barely contained fury, and Dean realized that for all their arguing, for all the times he'd seen her face down evil, he'd never seen her quite like this. It seemed she and Olivia were in an unofficial staring contest, and Dean was past the point of feeling like an intruder on something private.

It was Lorelai who finally broke, slamming both her cell phone and wand onto the table with more force than necessary and pushing them in Olivia's direction before pushing herself away from the table, her chair scraping across the floor as she went.

"I'm going for a run," she announced, not sparing any of them a look and already walking back towards the bedrooms, presumably to change. Her voice was restrained but failed to hide the emotion clearly still raging. "I can meet you at the hospital or you can wait, doesn't matter to me."

Dean was had only just realized she'd been speaking to him when the door slammed, the sound echoing through the space even as Olivia let out a sigh of relief. He and Sam both looked at her with unabashed curiosity, and realizing she would need to explain, Olivia seemed to brace herself.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked. Olivia took a breath and reached for the paper Lorelai had left behind.

"How much do you two know about Lorelai's childhood?" she asked quietly, and Dean could tell from the look on Sam's face that his brother was caught equally off guard by the question.

"Uhh, not a whole lot," Sam said slowly, glancing at Dean. "I think she told me her mom was killed by Death Eaters when she was a kid. And I know she's got Katie because their dad's a mean drunk."

Dean shifted uncomfortably when Olivia and Sam both looked at him, and then he shrugged.

"She wasn't very explicit about it, but I put together that her dad was pretty abusive. Lor said she got into some trouble when she was around fourteen and he gave up custody, and that's how she ended up with her aunt and uncle."

"'Mean drunk' and 'pretty abusive' are… understatements… but yeah," Olivia muttered uncomfortably before placing the paper back on the table and pushing it across the surface between him and Sam. She'd folded it down to a specific article with the headline Renowned Healer Jack Cromwell Finally Awarded Order of Gorsemoor emblazoned atop it. Beneath it was a moving picture of a middle-aged man accepting an award, smiling and waving to a crowd the camera hadn't picked up, and further down was another picture of the same man, though he was a bit younger in that picture, with his arm around a teenage girl wearing a graduation cap and gown – a teenage girl Dean almost thought was Lorelai. The smile made him suspect it was Emily, and a closer look revealed the slightly crooked nose for confirmation. The caption, he noticed, had Lorelai's name, but he would have bet his last penny it was wrong.

"That is Lorelai's father," Olivia explained, her voice cutting through his thoughts. "He's very much a functioning alcoholic, with a lot of money, and a lot of influence. Not a lot of people know what he put her through… Lorelai gave up the best chance she ever had of getting any kind of justice when she took Katie, and I know she'd do it all over again but… well… let's say it's still a pretty rough pill for her to swallow. That award is pretty much the highest honor a Healer can receive… and he's got a habit now that Lorelai's pretty famous herself of talking about her to the public like she's daddy's little girl. Sets her off every time."

"Oh, wow," Sam murmured, his hand reaching out to touch the paper. Dean hardly heard him though… he was too distracted by his own flood of emotions. From the way Lorelai had talked about him, Dean had always assumed her dad was some deadbeat drunk loser, wasting away somewhere in his own filth. It had never occurred to him that the man responsible for so much of her trauma was still walking around so… unscathed. The thought made him sick. And the image of his smiling face made Dean see red. It wasn't hard to understand why Lorelai had reacted the way she had, given that he was suddenly wrestling with his own feelings of wanting to do something, anything, to make it right.

Olivia ended up leaving for the hospital shortly thereafter, only a few minutes after Lorelai had slipped out the front door, headphones already in her ears and ignoring all of them as she went. Before departing, Olivia made sure to tell Sam and Dean she'd put Lorelai's phone and wand with their stuff in their room, and asked one of them to leave her a note if they left before Lorelai got back. And then Dean found himself trying and failing to focus on one of Lorelai's books while Sam showered and got ready.

"So, you wanna drop me at the library, or you want me to drop you at the hospital?"

He'd been so lost in his own thoughts, Dean hadn't heard Sam come back out to the kitchen and looked up in surprise.

"Oh, uh…"

Lorelai wasn't back yet, and a glance towards the clock told him she'd been gone about a half hour already. He knew she could take care of herself, knew she'd told him he didn't need to wait, and knew it wasn't necessarily his place anymore to worry about her… but as it turned out, that was easier said than done.

"You want to wait for Lorelai," Sam said, seeming to read his mind. Dean ran a hand down his face, eyes darting between Sam, the clock, and the front door, before finally landing on Sam.

"Is that totally nuts?" he asked. Sam seemed surprised by the question – no doubt because Dean had been so reluctant to let any of his walls down about Lorelai whenever Sam had brought her up to that point – but he recovered quickly and shook his head, dropping into the seat across from Dean.

"Nah, man, it's not. It's probably a good call."

Dean nodded, closing the laptop and pushing it in Sam's direction. Sam didn't move for it immediately, though, and they sat there in the quiet for a minute.

"You guys were pretty deep into things when she dropped the witch bomb, weren't you?"

Dean opened his mouth to deny it, give his usual dismissive kind of retort to Sam, but he caught the look on his brother's face and deflated. He was getting tired of this game anyway. "Yeah. Yeah, we were."

Sam nodded, a contemplative look on his face as he leaned back in his chair.

"You should talk to her before we all blow outta town when this thing is over."

"Sammy –"

"What, you're allowed to give me advice, but I have to sit back and watch you fuck up a chance to be happy? I'm serious, Dean. Do you have any idea what I'd give to be able to 'work things out' with Jess? It's pretty obvious Lorelai's just as hung up on you as you are on her. Stop wasting time and do something about it before the chance is gone. Take it from someone who knows what that's like. Life's too short, man. Especially in our line of work."

It was a sobering reminder that time wasn't guaranteed, and a stark contrast from Sam's normal nagging. Something twisted in Dean's chest, and he couldn't bring himself to deflect, not when Sam was opening his own vein, but he couldn't just let it go either.

"I hear you," he said carefully, "and I will try to talk to her. But Sam, you know it's more complicated than that, right? This isn't junior high, it's not as simple as I like her, and she likes me, so can't we just kiss and make up?"

"Yeah, I know," Sam admitted, "but if you don't at least try and work through it then you've got zero chance of it getting any better."

"Yeah, I get it," Dean said, digging in his pocket for his keys. He'd about hit his emotional limit for the morning, and thankfully, Sam seemed to understand, because instead of pressing he finally grabbed the laptop.

"You sure you don't remember anything else?" he asked, and Dean knew they'd switched gears back to the case. He did remember, but nothing else that would be useful. And the less he thought about Fort Douglass the better off he was – drowning in his own guilt wasn't going to help them find the damn striga any faster.

"Positive," he insisted, tossing over the keys. Sam looked between them and Dean with mild concern.

"How are you and Lorelai gonna get to the hospital?"

"Lor's pointed out multiple times she doesn't need a car to get around," he said, trying not to grimace. Sam, who Dean had found out in the last few days, had already experienced quite a few forms of magical transportation, caught onto Dean's plan quickly and tossed the keys back.

"Yeah, you're not ready for that," he laughed. "Not if you want that conversation with Lorelai to go well. I'll walk it, library's only two blocks away."

"Oh, but you were?" Dean shot back, even as Sam stood back up.

"I hurled on her shoes the first time she let me Apparate with her, which is how she and Liv have been getting around when they aren't with us. But hey, if you really wanna –"

But Dean was already waving him off, grateful to not have to cross that particular bridge today.

It was just as Dean was starting to get worried that the front door opened again, and Lorelai came trudging through, a sweaty mess, but no longer radiating the same intense energy she had been on her way out. She made it a few steps before doing a doubletake and freezing in place when she caught sight of him on the couch. Her mouth fell open in surprise and she slowly brought her hands up to remove her earbuds while Dean sat up straighter and used the remote to click the TV off, holding her gaze the entire time.

"Uh hey," she began, clearly at a loss. "I, um… you didn't –"

"Figured we're partners on this," Dean offered, putting her out of her misery, "and two sets of eyes are better than one."

"Right," she said slowly, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head. "Um, thanks… I think. I'll just go shower, and we can get going."

"Sounds good," he agreed. "Liv left your stuff in your room."

Lorelai bit her lip and nodded, starting to walk in that direction. Quickly, however, she paused and doubled back, swiveling to Dean once more.

"Did she, uh, happen to…"

"Fill in the blanks?" Dean offered when Lorelai couldn't seem to find the words. She shot him a grateful look in confirmation and Dean nodded. "Yeah, she did."

He wanted to say he was sorry, but he knew Lorelai too well to think that'd go over well. She didn't like sympathy… she often mistook it for pity, which she had no tolerance for. Dean couldn't blame her; it was a feeling he understood all too well.

"Great," she muttered, still worrying her lip between her teeth.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked, but Lorelai gave a quick shake of her head, and he wasn't surprised.

"No. Definitely not. I can't… I need to…" But Dean held up a hand and she fell silent.

"I get it, Lor. You don't need to explain, we're good." And he really did. The reluctance in that moment wasn't anything to do with him… it was her self-preservation in action, and Dean didn't have any interest in jeopardizing it. He'd be there if she needed him, but who was he to judge someone for needing to push something down and just keep busy? It was one of his own go-to coping mechanisms.

"Thanks," she whispered.

They stayed both stayed very still, neither of them willing to break the moment, and in that space the past nine months fell away. Dean was suddenly grateful for the distance between them, because if she were within his reach he was pretty sure he'd have lost the battle with his self-control and pulled her into his arms the way he would have when things between them were easier.

Then there was a loud noise outside that startled both of them back to life, a door slamming perhaps, and Lorelai's eyes swept over him critically before she began back down towards the bedrooms.

"You should probably change into a suit if we're going back to the hospital," she called over her shoulder, and Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It had already been a long few days, and today seemed like it was going to be even longer.

"If you keep pacing like that, you're going to wear a hole in the floor," Lorelai whispered about two hours later, startling Dean when she appeared at his elbow, holding out a to-go cup. The smell alone tipped him off to the fact that it was coffee, though the identity of the person offering it up was clue enough. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts he hadn't even realized he'd been doing it, and paused, accepting the cup and following Lorelai to sit in the chairs on the other side of the wide hallway.

"Sorry," he muttered, dropping into the seat next to her and running a hand down his face. "I just…" but the words failed him, and he just made a noise instead, gesturing to the hospital room across from them and taking a sip. The coffee was still hot and burned pleasantly as it went down his throat. Lorelai hummed in understanding, though her eyes, he noticed, were on him rather than the hospital room.

They hadn't even made it to the car before their plans of checking out the security footage got derailed. About halfway down the sidewalk they'd been waylaid by a harried looking woman, her face completely panic-stricken, though there was a brief flash of relief when she'd spotted Lorelai, and a young boy following behind her – probably about ten or eleven years old if Dean had to guess. The conversation that had followed had struck entirely too close to home.

"Miss. Baudelaire!" she'd called out, and Lorelai had stopped, her eyes lighting up in recognition before her expression had morphed into one of concern.

"Annette? What's wrong?"

Annette, as it turned out, was the "Squib sister" Lorelai had mentioned when he and Sam had first run into her at the hospital, the one that had tipped her and Olivia off to what was going on in town. She was a single mother, with two young boys, and her youngest, Asher, appeared to be the latest victim. Her older son, Michael, who was with her, had found the little boy that morning in his room, unresponsive. The concern and guilt etched into Michael's face as Annette and Lorelai had talked was an image that would be seared into Dean's brain for years to come.

"We gotta get this thing, Lor," Dean vented. "We can't let it keep pickin these kids off."

"You think that's what we're doing?" she challenged. "Letting it pick kids off?" And even though there was no heat in her voice, Dean deflated.

"No, I know we aren't. But I just… I hate this."

It was more than that though. The guilt that he'd been doing his best to keep at bay the last few days had hit him full force in a way Dean couldn't hold back, and his stomach had been churning from the moment Annette had told Lorelai what was going on, begging her for any progress she and Olivia might have made while they were in town. He and Lorelai had given her a lift to the hospital, and the entire way 'it's all your fault' just played on repeat through his head, the voice sounding suspiciously like his father's.

"Yeah, me too," Lorelai told him, "but we're doing what we can."

"Yeah, well that's not good enough." His response came out gruffer than he intended but Lorelai didn't flinch, and Dean felt a wave of appreciation for her. It was one of the things he loved about her. The rough edges didn't bother her. She got it, and she understood when it wasn't personal… didn't take offense the way other people did.

One of the things he both loved and hated about her, though, was that she was so damn perceptive. At least, when it came to him, she was. And while they sat there sipping at their coffee, watching Annette hover at the foot of Asher's bed while Dr. Hydecker and a nurse spoke over his head, Dean became increasingly aware of the scrutinizing gaze she was fixing him with.

"Dean?" She asked after a minute or two had passed. Her voice was gentle, the same tone he'd come to expect when she was gearing up to ask him something she worried would be a fight, and so he braced himself. What surprised him, though, was the accompanying touch to his arm, the warmth of her hand tangible even through his sleeve. "What's going on?"

He swallowed, determinedly staring straight ahead. He was right… it was absolutely something he did not want to talk about.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong, Lor. It's just this case. It's always harder when it's kids."

From the corner of his eye, he saw her nod, but he knew better than to think that was the end of it.

"Sure," she agreed slowly, "but this is more than that."

"What makes you so sure?"

"C'mon," Lorelai snorted, the hint of laughter detectable in her voice. "Give me some credit here. If working a case where kids being victimized was gonna get to you, I'm pretty sure that demon we took care of last summer would've fucked you up more than this. At least here we've got a chance of saving these kids."

Dean couldn't help but shudder, her point, unfortunately, more than valid. It had been a quick but gruesome case, one that had turned even his stomach… but Lorelai was right. It hadn't eaten at him the way this one was. It hadn't been personal the way this one was.

"You've been off the whole time we've been here," she continued to push when Dean still didn't say anything. He lent forward, resting his elbows on the tops of his thighs and using his free hand to cover his mouth. Lorelai just moved her hand to his back, running it up and down soothingly before letting it rest between his shoulder blades. "Don't try and con a con."

He couldn't help but smirk at that, finally turning his head to catch her eye and sparing her a small smile. She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly, but returned the gesture.

"Why's it matter?" he asked her, careful to keep any possible edge out of his voice, not wanting it to be mistaken for anything but a genuine question. Lorelai looked somewhat taken aback. He watched her pull that bottom lip of hers beneath her teeth again, a nervous habit of hers he'd always found endearing, but she didn't look away.

"It matters because we're working together on this," she finally said. "And because even though you piss me off, I care about you, and I can tell something's bothering you. So talk to me."

Movement in the room across the hall caught his attention and Dean looked back, watching the nurse adjusting something on one of the machines by Asher's bed. The kid had to have only been six or seven years old, and suddenly all Dean could think about was that night… what could have happened, what did happen, and how… avoidable this whole situation had been.

"Yeah?" he asked, buying himself time, and Lorelai leaned in closer, squeezing his shoulder. The feel of her body pressing against him, even briefly, made his head spin. Later he would blame that sensation for his loose lips.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Come on, it's just me. You can tell me anything… everyone needs an outlet."

And the next thing Dean knew, the story of what had happened in Fort Douglas was finally spilling from his lips, flowing easier than he ever would have expected – because once he started, his mouth didn't seem to want to stop. Lorelai's hand stayed on his back the entire time, a quiet reminder of the support she'd always been so good at giving, that he'd missed so desperately.

He told her everything, from his dad leaving him and Sam in the crap motel room, to the food running low and Sam's constant whining about everything. He told her how he'd been climbing the walls, and he'd just needed to breathe, and how one night after Sam was asleep, he'd decided that breaking the rules for just a bit wouldn't be a big deal. She didn't react when he told her about how the thing had been feeding on Sam when he'd gotten back, or when he told her how his dad burst in just in time to scare the thing off. She just stayed there, listening, letting him get it out.

It was a story that had haunted him for the past seventeen years, but one that he hadn't shared with anyone… hadn't even discussed with his dad… and he found that Lorelai was right. It didn't fix it, but there was something to be said for letting some of it out.

"By the time my dad got back to Fort Douglas," Dean explained lowly, "the striga had disappeared. Completely gone. And it never surfaced until now. My dad didn't talk about it again, and I didn't ask… but he looked at me different after, you know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order, I didn't listen. It almost got Sammy killed. But he's known this was unfinished business for me. That's why he sent me and Sam the coordinates. And I just… Lor, I gotta put this bastard down."

There was silence between them in the aftermath, but then Lorelai was rubbing his back, a nonverbal bid to get his attention, and mentally steeling himself, Dean turned his head to look. He knew better, but there was still a part of him that expected to see the same anger he'd been feeling at himself reflected back in her eyes, maybe even disgust… blame for sure, disappointment. None of that was there though. Instead, there was just understanding, and maybe a little sadness, and she met his eye steadily.

"We will," she told him. "I promise."

Dean nodded, and her hand moved from his back to his face, her thumb brushing across his cheekbone. The air between them suddenly felt charged, but Dean held still, ignoring every impulse he felt to do otherwise. Lorelai, it seemed, was equally unwilling to cross that line.

"Thank you," he said quietly, and Lorelai nodded, though he noticed she looked conflicted.

"Of course."

It wasn't until he finally, reluctantly, pulled away and brought the coffee back to his lips that she spoke again, and Dean closed his eyes, already regretting not having thought ahead to this.

"That's why, isn't it?" she asked, and Dean reluctantly lowered the cup again.

"That's why what?"

"Why you are the way you are with your dad," she prompted, even though they'd both already known what she was asking. "Why you got so pissed at me for giving you a hard time in Blairsville."

He honestly hadn't thought about it, not consciously anyway, but as he sat there turning over her words in his head, he realized there was probably more than a little truth to them. And so, after some consideration, he nodded again, still looking dead ahead.

"Yeah," he allowed, "maybe part of it."

Lorelai gave him a contemplative hum, and Dean tried to brace for whatever was going to come next.

"You know, it wasn't your fault, Dean. You were just a kid. Your dad never should have left you like that. He should've brought you and Sam to his friend's house before something went wrong, not only once it had. He was the –"

"Don't," Dean cut her off, working to keep the edge from his voice but knowing she'd still pick up on the anger. Lorelai immediately fell silent, and he could feel her eyes on him. "Don't," he repeated, giving a small shake of his head. "I… I get what you're trying to do, Lor, and I appreciate it, but just… I can't."

"Okay," she agreed after a moment. "Okay, I get it. But Dean?"

"What?" he asked, already knowing he wouldn't like whatever question came next.

"Have you told Sam any of that?"

Dean sat back up straight immediately, turning to look at her in undisguised alarm.

"No, and I'm not gonna. Come on, Lor, how would –" but just like he had earlier that day, she held up a hand and he fell silent.

"Relax," she cut over him, waiting for him to take a breath before continuing. "I'm not gonna get in the middle of it. It's your business if you want to tell him or not. I just… as your friend, and someone that cares about both of you… I just think you might want to consider it. That's all."

Dean narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to say more, but when he realized she wouldn't unless he prompted her to, he sighed and raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, I'll play. Why's that?"

"Because," she shrugged, taking a sip from her own coffee, and something eased between the two of them. "He's your brother, and he's not stupid either. He's been just as onto you as I have since we found that creepy handprint in the windowsill, and he's not a kid anymore. You should let him in sometimes. Like I said, everyone needs an outlet."

"And here I thought you were my outlet," he teased, only catching what he'd said seconds too late. A flash of pain crossed Lorelai's face that stirred up a mix of emotions for Dean and she stiffened, even as she smiled and tried to busy herself with her coffee.

"I think we both know it's not that simple anymore," she said quietly.

Dean's heart sank at Lorelai's words, the truth of them hitting him like a punch to the gut. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, to bridge the growing chasm between them, his conversation with Sam from that morning echoing in his head. But before he could formulate a response, his phone began to vibrate insistently in his pocket.

For a moment, he was torn. The conversation with Lorelai felt like walking a tightrope, precarious and fraught with potential missteps, but also achingly necessary and something he'd already put off one too many times. And yet, the reality of their situation - a bunch of sick kids and a monster on the loose - pressed down on him with an undeniable urgency.

Lorelai seemed to sense his conflict. She gave him a small, sad smile and nodded towards his pocket. "You should get that," she said softly. "It's probably Sam."

Dean hesitated for another heartbeat before sighing and fishing out his phone. Sure enough, his brother's name flashed on the screen. He cast one last, regretful look at Lorelai before answering and pushing to his feet, resuming his earlier pacing.

"Yeah, Sammy?" he said, his voice gruffer than he intended.

"Dean, hey," Sam's voice came through, tinged with concern. Dean had sent him a text letting him know the basics of what had happened while Lorelai had helped Annette get situated in Asher's room. "How's the kid?"

Dean glanced towards Asher's room, where the boy lay motionless, various machines beeping steadily around him while Hydecker and the nurse continued working.

"Not good," Dean replied, running a hand down his face. "Where you at?"

"Still at the library. I've been trying to find out as much as I can about this striga."

"Yeah, what have you got?"

There was a pause, and Dean could practically see Sam's grimace through the phone. Meanwhile Lorelai was watching him intently, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Well, bad news," Sam began. "I started with Fort Douglas, around the time you said Dad was there?"

"Yeah?" Dean prompted, ignoring the way his stomach clenched at the reminder. Lorelai may not have blamed him, but that didn't change how Dean felt about the whole thing.

"Same deal," Sam confirmed. "Before that, there was, uh, Ogdenville, before that North Haverbrook, and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years it hits a new town. Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitchburg. In all these other places it goes on for months. Dozens of kids before the striga finally moves on. The kids just... languish in comas and then they die."

Dean's jaw clenched, his free hand curling into a fist at his side. He could feel Lorelai's eyes on him, concern radiating off her in waves, but he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze.

"How far back's this thing go?" he asked instead, focusing on the information Sam was providing.

"Ah, I don't know," Sam admitted. "The earliest mention I could find is this place called 'Black River Falls' back in the 1890s. Talk about a horror show... woah."

"Sam?" Dean questioned, the sudden shift in Sam's tone making Dean's heart rate spike.

"Hold on..." Sam muttered, his voice distant as if he'd pulled away from the phone. "I'm looking at a photograph right now of a bunch of doctors standing around a kid's bed. One of the doctors is Hydecker."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "And?"

"And this picture was taken in 1893," Sam replied, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and horror.

Dean's blood ran cold. "You sure?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. Sam's research skills were impeccable, and if he said it was Hydecker...

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "Yeah, absolutely."

Dean swallowed hard, his whole body tensing as he glanced back to the room. The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity, and he ended the call with Sam, his hand shaking slightly as he lowered the phone.

"Dean?" Lorelai's voice was soft, concerned. She had risen from her chair and was now standing close to him, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of her shampoo. "What is it?"

He looked between her and the room, his expression grim, before ultimately bringing a hand to the small of her back and guiding her a few paces away from the open door.

"It's Hydecker," he told her, his voice low and intense. "He's the striga."

Lorelai's eyes widened, her gaze darting to the open door of Asher's room. "Are you sure?"

Dean nodded, running a hand down his face. "Sam found a picture from 1893. He's it, Lor. I swear to God…"

"Shit," Lorelai breathed, her hand instinctively moving to her pocket where Dean knew she kept her wand. "What do we do? We can't just let him walk out of here."

"Yeah, well, we can't take him on here either," Dean said, frustration coloring his tone. "Bastard's indestructible right now, he's gotta be feeding. We need to regroup, come up with a plan."

The truth of his own statement, however, did little to quell the rage that was coursing through his veins in that moment, and his inner demons were threatening to shout down his better angels. If he'd been packing, he wasn't completely sure he'd have been able to stop himself from drawing fire, regardless of how ill-advised and useless it would have been.

Lorelai, at least, nodded, her expression hardening into one of determination that Dean recognized all too well. It was the same look she got before diving into a particularly tough case, a mix of focus and fierce protectiveness that never failed to stir something in him.

"Okay," she said, her voice steady. "Let's get out of here, meet up with Sam. We'll figure out our next move. I'll fill Liv in on our way out."

As they gathered their things, preparing to leave, Dean found his gaze drawn back to Hydecker. The doctor was now speaking softly to Annette, his manner kind and reassuring. The sight made Dean's stomach turn.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, more to himself than to Lorelai. "He's been here all this time, hiding in plain sight."

Lorelai's hand on his arm startled him out of his dark thoughts.

"Hey," she said gently, waiting until he met her eyes before continuing. "We're going to stop him, Dean. We're going to end this, once and for all. I promised, remember?"

Dean nodded, drawing strength from her unwavering confidence. As they made their way out of the hospital, he found himself grateful for her presence, for the steadying influence she had always been in his life, even when things between them were complicated. Sam was right, that they needed to talk, Dean was done pretending otherwise. But for the moment, they had bigger fish to fry, and Dean instead turned his mind to start thinking of a plan, because even with the identity figured out, he knew the task ahead of them was going to be anything but easy.

Hope everyone enjoyed! As always, thank you so much for reading, and for your feedback ❤❤ You guys are the best.

Bad news - the flu kicked my ass this week, which is why this didn't get posted until so late in the day. This is the first day I've spent more than a few hours conscious since I think Tuesday?

Good news - I am now feeling better and am back to my normal self

Bad news - being sick for so long put me way behind in many things, including writing. So my plan is to have the next chapter for the 22nd. I prefer keeping to the weekly update schedule, but hopefully every other week isn't too much of a stretch.

Anyway, I will see you all on the 22nd!

Side note - I've been slowly getting reacquainted with tumblr. If anyone's interested you can find me over there under the same name - I might post some sneak peeks for this story over there, but no promises.