June 17th, 2005

"I can't believe some people actually get up this early by choice," Lorelai muttered the next morning as the sun dried the dewdrops on the grass and she and Dean walked side by side through the largest cemetery in town. Dean snorted and glanced down at her, trying not to let himself be too distracted by their proximity or the way her arm felt around his waist. She was clutching at the to-go cup from the coffee shop in her right hand like it was a lifeline and took a swig from it just as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head, using the arm he had draped around her shoulders to pull her closer.

"Could be worse. Could have to do this every day," he pointed out. Lorelai made a face but dropped her head tiredly against him even as they continued to walk. In all actuality, it was earlier than Dean liked to be up and about too, but he was feeling brighter than normal.

"There's not enough coffee in the world," she sighed. "Hey, how about that one? It looks old and dilapidated."

Dean followed Lorelai's eyes and found the headstone she was looking at. It was old, and he guided them closer, slowing as they approached. So far, they'd been at it about a half hour and hadn't had much luck. He was crossing his fingers though. The records Lorelai had been struggling through the day before were at that point a last resort he was hoping they wouldn't have to rely on.

"Anna Foster," he read. Despite its weathered appearance the stone was simplistic, only denoting years that were a little too faded to be read clearly and a flower carved underneath it all, looking nothing like the symbol their spirit was leaving behind.

"Damn it."

They walked another two rows, each of them scanning subtly but carefully as they went, trading snippets of conversation. Lorelai drank at her coffee, steadily coming to life as she did, until she ultimately pitched the empty cup into a trashcan by the sidewalk, looking much lighter than when they'd started their walk.

Dean found his attention split between watching the headstones and watching Lorelai, the latter being far more interesting. The way she'd handled herself in Tullahoma had left him with the strong suspicion that she'd been at this awhile and she knew what she was doing, but working with her was only proving that hypothesis. She was sharp, and she approached the job the same way he'd seen her approach everything else – with little to no hesitation and confidence that at least seemed earned.

There was still room for her to prove him wrong, but there'd been some truth under his joke that she may have been his favorite hunting partner that went beyond his personal feelings for her. They were equals – he wasn't taking orders from her like he did his dad, and while he knew when push came to shove, he'd feel responsible for keeping her safe, it was different from the way Sam had felt like his responsibility every time they'd been out in the field together. She wasn't there against her will either, and it reminded him of the observation he'd made after that first night together – Lorelai was going to do what Lorelai was going to do with or without him there. If he hadn't called her on this case, he'd be willing to bet the little cash he had that she'd have found her own. And then there was the fact that she had book smarts – a closet nerd, as her brother-in-law had said. Dean wasn't stupid, but he had a GED, and he wasn't going to pretend her brains hadn't brought something to the table thus far. Hunting with Lee had been great – they'd had fun and been equals too… but they were one and the same. To them research was the necessary evil before they could go kill the real evil thing, and not something that came easily at that.

Despite her grumbling about the early hour, Lorelai's eyes were focused and discerning as they swept the cemetery. Every so often, she'd stop and crouch down to brush drybrush or dirt from a headstone, studying the engravings with a quiet intensity that suggested she was looking for more than just the names and dates. Dean found himself doing the same, dimly wondering if she had any other tricks up her sleeve like the powder from yesterday. If she did, though, she wasn't offering them up now.

As they moved on towards another section, Dean spotted a group of mourners gathered around a fresh grave. Based on her quiet groan, Lorelai spotted them too, and Dean glanced around, looking for an alternative route.

"I hate funerals," she muttered, almost to herself more than anything. Their conversation the night before fresh in his mind, however, Dean couldn't help but imagine why. They hadn't had a funeral for his mom – there hadn't been a body left to bury, and his dad had moved his energy onto avenging her pretty quickly. He did a mental tally, though, and figured Lorelai had been through her fair share. At least four before she was twenty… and he realized he wasn't actually sure what had happened to Katie's mother, just that Lorelai had said the kid didn't have parents, so maybe five. Instinctively, he slid his hand into hers and tugged, pulling them towards a small building a little bit off the path.

"If they're still burying people over there it's probably not the right section anyway," he pointed out. She seemed mildly surprised but didn't argue, following his lead easily enough and shoving her free hand into her pocket.

"Probably not. Though I doubt a colu – a crypt'll be much better."

"Why not?" She shrugged, a dismissive expression on her face that didn't convince him.

"Cremation wasn't popular when the killer was active. First crematory in the US wasn't built until 1876."

Dean shook his head, glancing over at her with a teasing grin despite the rush of admiration he was feeling towards her.

"Alright Morticia, what else you got crammed up in that head of yours?" He watched her cheeks flush while she rolled her eyes, dropping his hand to shoulder open the door.

"Criminology major," she reminded him. Dean chuckled softly and followed her inside. In stark contrast to the bright, dry heat outside, the temperature dropped just over the threshold and the air became cool and musty, the room dark and dimly lit.

"It's still possible though?" he asked, pulling out his flashlight without waiting for an answer. Lorelai hummed, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her fingers skimming the walls as her eyes studied the plagues fastened to the small stone doors.

"Technically."

Figuring they were already there, Dean continued scanning the names, looking for anything resembling the weird Ven Diagram/Infinity like symbol from the day before. Lorelai seemed content to do the same despite her objections, and they fell into an easy rhythm. It was as he reached the back corner of the room that the beam of his flashlight fell on an etching that had a satisfied smile forming on his face. Lorelai may have been smart, but she wasn't infallible.

"Hey, Lor!" he called, his voice echoing in the small space. She paused in her own movements, turning to see where he'd frozen, and frowned.

"What's up?" she asked, walking towards him. Dean smiled and wiggled the flashlight, illuminating his finding. Her eyes followed, face falling as soon as she connected the dots.

William Aldrich

1819-1891

"Oh, son of a bitch!" she complained, and Dean smirked. Right under the dates was the symbol, engraved with a bit more skill than the smeared one that had been at the scenes, but an indisputable match.

"It's alright, you can't be right all the time." Lorelai huffed and rolled her eyes, letting her head fall back against him.

"I don't care about you being right," she grumbled. "I care about the fact that we found our best lead and there's no body to burn."

Her words popped his balloon and Dean felt himself deflating as he realized their truth.

"Fuck," he muttered, and Lorelai nodded her agreement with the sentiment.

By the time they made it back to the Impala they'd agreed on a new plan that involved Dean taking a stab at digging up any information he could find on William Aldrich in the hopes that they might find something besides remains tethering his spirit, while Lorelai took some time to put fresh eyes on all the information they had on the victims and their deaths. At her insistence she didn't need a ride anywhere else, Dean dropped Lorelai off at the motel before searching out the nearest Copy Shack. The fake FBI badge had been helpful digging into the recent victims, but if he was going to look into Aldrich, he figured he had a better chance posing as a descendant.

New ID identifying him as Dean Aldrich in hand, Dean made his way towards the county records office. Inside there was a short line, and Dean was briefly concerned when he saw the desk was being manned by a grouchy old man. He was relieved a few minutes in, however, when a young woman slipped out from the back, tapping the guy on his shoulder and swapping places with him. She seemed friendlier, and a lot less thorough in the information she was requiring of people up front.

Dean approached the counter with a casual stride, pulling out his forged ID as he offered a charming smile. "Afternoon," he greeted, sliding the card across the desk. "I'm trying to dig up some information on my great-grandfather. Family history project, you know?"

The woman, her name tag reading 'Eliza', flashed him a warm smile, flicking over his ID before returning it. "Of course, Mr. Aldrich. What specifically are you looking to find?"

"Birth certificate, death certificate… any old deeds or records you might have. Maybe even some newspaper clippings if they're around?" Dean slid a scrap of paper towards her where he'd written down the name and dates from the crypt. Eliza glanced it over, nodding even as she turned towards the computer.

"We should be able to help with that." She tapped away at her computer momentarily before grabbing a pen and writing something down on the paper he'd handed her. "Follow me. You can take a look at what we have in the back."

As they walked, Dean took in the stale air, dusty desks, and florescent lights, grateful not for the first time that this wasn't his life. Hunting had its drawbacks, but he didn't think he'd have survived in the 9-5 world.

The room Eliza brought him to was dimly lit, musty, with shelves and cabinets packed to the brim. She handed him back the paper, walked towards one of the cabinets, and quickly showed him how to find the locations she'd written down. Before long, she was telling him to take his time, touching his arm before she went back for the door, leaving him alone with the hordes of mostly forgotten records. Everything in the room seemed to pertain to pre-1901.

Sighing, Dean got to work, beginning to thumb through documents laden with archaic legalese that made his eyes droop. It became apparent quickly that a follow up trip to the library was going to be required, but he at least had a start. It took about two hours to get through all the files Eliza had indicated, and he was more than happy to throw all the old papers back into their respective drawers before heading back towards the front door himself. Eliza was still at the front desk and sent him a bright smile that might have made him pause once upon a time but held no meaning for him today.

His baby was a welcome sight as he walked across the parking lot. He unlocked the door, sliding behind the wheel, and let the familiar smell of leather and gunpowder surround him. His phone started ringing as he turned the key in the ignition, and a quick glance at the caller ID told him it was his dad. He'd been expecting the call at some point, but he still wasn't sure what he was gonna say.

"Hey, Dad," he answered, pressing the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he turned out of the parking lot and back into traffic.

"Dean, where are you at with that case?" John's voice was gruff, tinged with concern and a commanding presence that had shaped much of Dean's life. "I thought this was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn."

"Turned out not to be so simple," Dean admitted. "Pretty sure I've got the sprit ID'ed, but he was cremated."

"You need backup? I can come out," John offered immediately, and Dean paused, trying to figure out how to avoid the inevitable.

"I'm alright. I've, uh… I've already got help."

"Oh yeah? Lee finally turn up? He's been off the radar awhile." Dean didn't miss the way his dad's voice had perked up and frowned.

"No, not Lee. Another hunter. Local." It was a stretch, but Dean reasoned Lorelai was local relative to the distances they usually traveled. His dad's silence on the other end of the line was palpable, and Dean braced himself for the inevitable interrogation.

"Local hunter, huh?" John's voice was cautious. "You trust them?"

Dean hesitated, knowing he needed to tread carefully. "Yeah, she's solid. Knows her stuff."

"She?" John's tone shifted, a mix of surprise and suspicion. "Dean, you know we can't afford to trust just anyone. Especially some hunter we've never heard of."

Dean clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes on the road as he tried to formulate his response. "I know, Dad. But she's good. We ran into each other on another hunt before this, took down a werewolf together. She's got skills."

"Skills aren't everything. We don't know her background. Could be walking into a trap." John's voice was hard, and Dean could hear the underlying worry. Of course, he knew more than he was letting on, but divulging any more about his involvement with Lor wasn't going to do him any favors.

"She's not a threat. And we're making progress. Found the name and dates of the spirit. Just need to dig a little deeper, figure out what's tethering him since the body's out."

John sighed, the sound crackling over the phone. "Alright but keep your guard up. And if anything feels off, you call me. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it," Dean replied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. "I'll keep you updated."

"Good. And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. We can't afford to lose you."

Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "I will. Talk soon, Dad."

He ended the call, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Up ahead he saw the library looming and pulled into the parking lot. He dimly wondered how Lor was making out going back over the victims but grabbed the notes he'd gotten from the records office and trudged inside instead of reaching out to her.

It wasn't long before he lost track of time, his brain going fuzzy as he surrounded himself with old books and yellowed documents near one of the computers. Searching for remnants of Aldrich's estate was proving to be near futile, and his frustration was mounting by the minute. The family tree he was painstakingly tracing wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for the fact that the names weren't all that unique, and finding the right Aldrichs was starting to feel like finding a needle in a haystack.

Dean was scribbling another name onto his growing list when his phone rang, the sound jarring and too loud for the quiet of the library. He snatched at it quickly, struck by relief and curiosity when he glimpsed Lorelai's name.

"Hey, Lor," he greeted, trying to keep the weariness out of his voice. "Tell me you're having better luck on your end." A snort came through the line, and he could easily imagine the sympathetic look on her face.

"I would say so. Can you meet me at the motel? I think I've got it figured out." It wasn't until that moment that Dean registered the sound of cars in the distance and frowned.

"What's up?"

"I can't get into it now, but I'll be there in a few minutes. You coming?" Dean didn't need to be told twice – at that point, anything to get him out of the library was good enough for him.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, gathering up his notes. "I'll see you in a few."

He was on his feet and heading towards the door seconds later, his frustration temporarily forgotten and his curiosity quickening his pace.

"Okay, so you're telling me they all interacted with the maintenance guy? That's… thin… at best."

Half an hour later, Dean found himself sitting across from Lorelai once again at the small round table in their motel room. Today, however, instead of food being spread out between them, there was a swath of paper and the beginnings of some doubt from Dean. Lorelai huffed and rolled her eyes, rifling through her papers again.

"They all submitted a ticket within a week of their death. All three tickets were handled by the same guy, and the notes in the complex's system for those three tickets are all exceedingly sparse compared to the others." Dean wanted to believe her… she hadn't given him a reason to doubt her yet, but he still found himself frowning.

"Yeah, but Lorelai, he's a just a guy. We're looking for a vengeful spirit." At that, Lorelai scoffed and reached for another file.

"Yeah, because people are never dangerous," she shot back sarcastically, and he had to admit she had a point. "Dean, the guy's a creep. Look at all these complaints from the tenants. And when I went back to talk to Charlotte's husband, he remembered her complaining about the maintenance call. Said he thought she said something about filing a complaint and that the problem didn't actually get fixed and that the worker had a lot of attitude, but he didn't remember if she got around to filing it or not."

"What about the symbol, and the ectoplasm, and the EMF, and all the other crap?" For the first time since he'd gotten back, Lorelai shifted uncomfortably. It lasted seconds, before she reached under the table and threw a book down between them, her nonchalant, confident face back in place.

"I might have broken into his apartment after I spoke with Charlotte's husband," she admitted. "Bona fide creep. Occult books everywhere, and very obviously a true crime junkie. I'm pretty sure that's where he found a summoning ritual. And hew as a groundskeeper at the cemetery where we found Aldrich before he got this job. Only thing is, I couldn't find an altar anywhere in his place."

Dean ran a hand down over his mouth, processing the information, his eyes roaming between the table and Lorelai as he pondered.

"Next time, lead with that," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Lorelai shrugged, staring back at him expectantly. For his part, Dean felt torn between being turned on and wary. It felt hypocritical to be upset about her going off on her own - it wasn't like he never hunted solo, and she hadn't given him any reason to think she wasn't capable - but he still didn't like it, and he wondered if this was the potential downside to both of them being hunters. After Lorelai's confession about Fred the night before, it didn't seem like a stretch to guess that was what was holding her up. Fear of getting close to someone else and losing them too. It wasn't the time to dwell on any of that though.

"Figured I'd walk you through it the same way I pulled it all together. So are we good with this? It's Garber?"

Dean nodded slowly, his brain still processing but his doubt slowly dissipating.

"Yeah, alright. We can head back over there after hours, look around for the altar. Maybe in the maintenance office in the basement?"

"That's what I was thinking," Lorelai agreed. Seemingly satisfied, she began cleaning up all the materials on the table and Dean watched her, still unable to shake that nagging concerned feeling.

"What do we do about Garber if it is him?" Dean asked. Lorelai paused ever so slightly before resuming her movements at a slightly slower pace, her eyes still trained on the table.

"I figure the spirit he's been keeping on a leash might take care of him. But if not… we're gonna have to make sure he can't do something like this again."

She hadn't said Garber needed to get the axe so to speak, but the implication hung there between them clearly anyway. It didn't bother Dean - far as he was concerned, someone that took it upon themselves to play God and start picking off people was no less a monster than any of the supernatural ones he'd grown up ganking. Especially if said person was using the supernatural to do it. It didn't seem to bother Lorelai either - her voice was steady, she was unflinching, and he was seeing that fearlessness in her that he found so alluring. Still, though, she wouldn't meet his eyes, and suddenly he realized the only thing she was nervous about was what he'd think of her for being willing to make the hard call.

"Agreed," he told her quickly. She bit her bottom lip but sent him a small smile, her shoulders visibly deflating as she nodded.

"Good."

In the end, Dean wasn't sure what had possessed him to do it. Maybe the intuition that she cared what he thought had gone to his head for a moment, or maybe his protective nature was just too deeply engrained in him after taking care of Sam all his life… or maybe it had something to do with the fact that the thought of something happening to her made his blood run cold. Whatever it was, he quickly decided was misguided.

"For the record," he said, "you shouldn't have gone into that apartment alone. Could've been dangerous." Without looking up Lorelai scoffed and continued her efforts at cleaning up.

"What are you, my brother?" she quipped. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean noted that her parental issues ran deep enough that she picked brother over father or even mother, but he filed that away for later and frowned.

"I'm serious, Lor, what the hell were you thinking? He could have come back and found you at any time, and I didn't even know where you were."

In retrospect, he figured that was the moment he pushed it too far. The way her nostrils flared clued him in first, and the way she narrowed her eyes at him when her head whipped up was new and not a look he wanted to get used to.

"Excuse me?"

Dean raised his hands defensively, trying to keep his cool. "Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk. I'm just saying we should be looking out for each other." His words, however, didn't have the intended effect and her glare deepened.

"I know what I'm doing, I've been at this long enough."

"Yeah, and so have I," Dean shot back. "But that doesn't mean we can just go rogue whenever we feel like it. We're supposed to be working together." Lorelai crossed her arms, shifting from being hunched over the table to her full height, rolling her eyes.

"We are working together, and we agreed that you'd check out Aldrich while I went back over the vics. What, just because I did one thing off book I'm not being cooperative now?" Cooperative hadn't been his word, and if Dean had to guess he'd hit a nerve somewhere, but his own ire was too raised to care. He did his best to tamp it down and stay focused, even as he glared back.

"I didn't say that, but I need to know who I'm working with has my back and at least trusts me enough to let me know what the hell they're up to."

"I didn't need backup," she retorted. "I handled it just fine on my own." Dean felt his frustration boiling over. She was fucking stubborn, and for the first time since he'd met her, it wasn't so charming.

"It's not about needing backup, Lorelai! It's about being smart and not taking unnecessary risks." The air around them crackled and her eyes flashed with defiance.

"I don't need you to tell me how to hunt, Dean. I've been doing this long before you came around."

"Yeah? And how's that been working out for you?" The words slipped out before Dean could stop them and he wasn't even sure what he'd been aiming for, but it was clearly another nerve struck and he regretted it instantly. Her face turned a shade paler, he could see her hands clench where they were twisted up in her arms, and her eyes narrowed further.

"Don't you dare think that just because we've shared some good times and I've let you in on a few personal details you know me or what I've been through," she said, her voice low and dangerous. Dean took a deep breath, trying to reign in his emotions and the situation at the same time. Her words stung, but he figured his had too, and hers had a truth to them he didn't like. A truth that, if he had any hopes of changing, they'd need to be able to work through this.

"You're right, Lor. I don't. But I do know that if we're gonna do this – if we're gonna work together," he amended quickly when he saw the look on her face, "then we need to trust each other. Completely. That's the only way this works."

For a moment Lorelai stared at him, her jaw set and eyes still blazing, and for a long moment neither of them spoke. Slowly, though, she let out a breath, her body relaxing just a fraction.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to this," she admitted quietly, her voice losing some of its edge, and Dean felt a wave of relief. "I'm used to working on my own… I don't really know how to do the partner thing and I've done a pretty bad job of if when I've tried. I tried to warn you."

Dean nodded sensing a crack in her defenses, and despite the situation found himself fighting back a smirk.

"It's alright, I get it," he told her, his tone softening. Her arms dropped back to her sides and Dean lent forward in his seat, taking the opportunity to grab one of her hands and tug her towards him. She stepped between his legs and ended up seated on his right, and Dean took her willingness to be close to him as a good sign. "I just need you to know that I've got your back, just like I know you've got mine."

Lorelai bit her bottom lip, her dark blue eyes sparkling, and Dean once again found it hard not to lose himself in them. She looked away, her gaze dropping to the floor while she took a deep breath. By the time she met his eyes again he could make out a faint blush on her cheeks and found himself reaching out push some of her hair out of her face before he could stop himself.

"That's fair. I get it. You've gotta trust me too, though. I do know what I'm doing."

A smile erupted across Dean's face, laughter threatening to break loose, and he nodded.

"Oh, trust me, sweetheart, I'm fully aware. You've got a deal." Lorelai offered him back a tentative smile before letting him pull her in for a kiss.

"So we'll head back over to the building tonight?" she asked, breaking the kiss but resting her forehead against his. Dean nodded, licking his lips and keeping his hand cradling the back of her head.

"Yeah, after dinner," he agreed. Dean had just a second to register the coy smile on her face before she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his once more, this time deepening the kiss and leaving no question in his mind whether she wanted more.

"Good," she mumbled. "Gives you time to remind me just how well you can have my back."

Her words ignited something in him, and Dean smiled, wasting no time in pulling her closer and laying claim to her mouth again.

"As many times as you want," he promised, relishing in the feel of her hands skimming down his chest and wondering where this woman had been all his life.

Lorelai Baudelaire was a badass.

At least, that's all Dean could think later that night as he watched her slip out from the hold Garber – their friendly janitor-turned-vengeful-spirit-whisperer – had her in, only to flip him onto the ground and pin him in a feat Dean wouldn't have believed possible if he hadn't witnessed it himself. She made it look effortless, the way she immobilized his arms, keeping them behind his back and in place with her legs, while she yanked the man's head back by his hair and used her other hand to press a knife against his throat – a knife Dean hadn't even realized she'd had, but one she was certainly comfortable handling. The look on her face was deadly, and he had no doubt she wouldn't hesitate to use the weapon at her disposal.

"Call it off, or your blood's gonna paint the walls," she promised.

Suddenly the pressure let off of his chest, and Dean knew Garber had done as he was instructed, though as the ghost flickered back to life on the other side of the room, he immediately knew Lorelai had only succeeded in redirecting the attention onto herself.

Lorelai dove as the ghost sped at her, landing a kick to Garber's head as she rolled onto her back, pulling out a .45 while she went, and fired off three shots in quick succession. Dean had just enough time to register that the spirit had vanished upon contact before he finally managed to duck through the doorway he'd been heading for, frantically looking around for the altar he knew had to exist.

Of course, as luck had it, the room was bare of anything resembling the supernatural, seeming every inch what you'd expect for a glorified supply closet. There were gallons of various cleaners, boxes of trash bags, mops, a work bench piled with crap… but all of it seemed very ordinary. He was about to run for the workbench, hoping that perhaps there was something there his eyes were just skipping over, when he caught sight of a panel on the side of the room – barely discernable, except the cover had obviously been replaced in a rush and was now slightly askew.

He was racing across the small space while sounds of the altercation on the other side of the wall carried through. There were no more gunshots, but there was a stream of curses from Lorelai that put even him to shame after a particularly large clattering sound, and just as he was tossing the panel covering onto the floor an anguished, but distinctly male scream rent the air, followed by the sound of splintering wood. If he weren't so relieved to see the tell-tale paraphernalia, Dean would have been sad to be missing the show. Instead, he wasted no time in raising an arm and swiping at the whole display, everything smashing to the floor in a cacophony of sounds. The commotion outside stalled, and just before Dean made it back to the door, Lorelai appeared in the frame, a triumphant smile on her face and minimal signs of the struggle visible.

Without thinking, Dean gripped at her waist, but she let him, leaning in and only smiling wider when Garber's scared voice began pleading no. Both of them turned back in time to see the spirit advancing on the bulwark of a man, fear in his eyes, but Dean felt no sympathy, and a glance at Lorelai told him she didn't either. Neither of them so much as lifted a finger as the spirit eviscerated Garber the same way he had the three dead tenants, the only movement they made being to duck back around the door to avoid getting hit with the blood spatter. With its target dead the spirit went up in flames itself, and Dean met Lorelai's eye, trying not to be too distracted by the way she was pressed against him.

"What the hell did you shoot him with?" he asked, nodding to the gun still clutched in her hand. "I've never seen a ghost take a regular bullet like that."

"Not a regular bullet," she shrugged, stepping taking half a step away to tuck the gun back into her waistband. "Iron coated with salt."

Dean raised an eyebrow, impressed but also slightly wary. He had to admit it was clever, using the iron to dissipate the spirit on contact the way salt did while also giving it the force of a real bullet, and a bullet like that would have use past just spirits. But firing at a spirit, you always had to be wary of what was behind the damn thing, and iron could cause a lot more collateral damage than some salt rounds.

"Little risky, but effective," he said carefully. Lorelai seemed to consider his words for a moment while she peered back around the door, assessing the damage.

"Only if you're stupid with them."

She started to move past him towards the door, and Dean let her go, following a few steps behind. His mind turned over their exchange along with the evening's events. He had to admit, her methods were unorthodox but undeniably effective. And while he still thought going off on her own had been reckless, she'd proven she could handle herself in a fight as well as any other hunter he'd worked with – better than some.

Dean watched as Lorelai stepped carefully around the gruesome remains of Garber, her nose scrunching slightly when she found the doorknob coated in blood and guts. For his part, Dean felt no remorse over the violent end the janitor had met. As far as he was concerned, anyone who willingly unleashed a vengeful spirit on innocent people got what was coming to them.

"We should get out of here before someone comes to investigate the noise," Lorelai said, glancing back at Dean over her shoulder. Her dark hair was mussed and there was a smudge of something on her cheek, but the adrenaline was still evident in her eyes, a sparkle there alongside it. Dean felt a swell of affection for the fierce hunter in front of him. She was a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about it.

"Yeah, I'm comin'," Dean replied, following her towards the exit. As they hurried up the basement steps he found himself watching the confident sway of her hips, the memory of how they'd pressed against him earlier that evening still fresh in his mind.

Outside, the night air was cool and damp. Dean inhaled deeply, savoring the feeling of a job well done. Beside him, Lorelai also seemed to relax as they made their way across the parking lot.

"So, celebratory drink?" Dean asked, bumping his shoulder against hers playfully. Lorelai laughed, the sound light and musical to his ears.

"I think we've earned it," she agreed.

Soon they were tucked away in the corner of a bar across town, drinks in hand. Dean sipped at his whiskey, the smoky burn sliding down his throat. Across from him, Lorelai stretched before leaning back in the stool she claimed and sipping on her cocktail.

"So, I'd say this was a job well done," he told her. Lorelai's lips were still molded to the glass, but she nodded her agreement. Her eyes flashed with amusement, and she leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. The movement brought her closer, allowing Dean to catch the floral scent of her shampoo mixing with the lingering wisps of gunpowder and blood despite the fact that they'd stopped off to clean up.

"Yeah, I guess you're alright." The mischievous glint in her eye told him she was teasing, and Dean smirked.

"Yesterday I was 'amazing'." Lorelai pretended to think for a moment, before shrugging, her expression softening a bit after that.

"Well I can't have you getting a big head, can I?" Dean bit back the retort that came to mind, deciding it was too easy, and tipped back more of his whiskey.

"So… back to New York in the morning?" he asked a moment later. Lorelai looked mildly surprised but nodded, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth when she did.

"Yep. Gotta get home in time to make it look like I didn't throw a rager while the kid was out of town. My place is a sty." Dean refused to let himself believe he heard any amount of regret in her voice. He wasn't dumb enough to think one good hunt together was going to magically alleviate whatever inner demons she was fighting. "What about you?"

Dean shrugged, fingers absentmindedly smoothing over the phone in his pocket.

"Probably check in and see what my dad's up to. He went out to check in on how my brother's doin', but he should be back at it again by now."

Lorelai's eyebrow raised in interest, and before he knew it, Dean found himself reluctantly telling her the cliff notes version of Sam's decision to leave the family business.

He didn't like talking about it, or thinking about how shit things had felt since everything had gone down, but somehow Lorelai managed to pull a smile out of him by the end, and soon enough that conversation gave way to lighter ones in which they both shared a little more than they had before. Mostly they swapped funny stories - like the time Dean had put Nair in Sam's shampoo, and the time Sam had dressed up as Batman and jumped off the roof thinking he could fly. Lorelai, in turn, told him all the ways she used to drive her siblings up a wall, ranging from adding hair dye into her sister's hair products to sneaking into parties with her older brothers' classmates to breaking her twin sister's nose with a soccer ball. It was the most she'd talked about her siblings so far, and Dean did his best to commit the information to memory. Nolan was her self-described closest sibling, but Dean sensed there was a bit of a rift between them the same way there was one between him and Sam, and from her stories he suspected Harry was actually the sibling she was closest with currently.

And as they lingered in the bar, ordering more rounds and swapping more stories, a calm he hadn't felt since Tullahoma settled back over him, and Dean reveled in the moment. He made sure to avoid any talk of the future… he still wanted to be with her, but he understood too… or at least he was starting to think he did.

Eventually closing time forced them from their refuge. Outside the night had grown cooler, and Dean easily draped an arm around her, both of them laughing as they semi stumbled back towards the Impala. The threat of morning was starting to press in on the little bubble they'd made that night, but Dean determinedly kept it at bay. There would be a goodbye, but he didn't think it would be as final seeming as the last one had, and for now that was good enough for him.

Thank you everyone so much for reading 😊 It means so much to me that other people are enjoying this story. Hope you all enjoy!