November 25th-28th, 2005
"That kid's got something locked up in his head," Dean mused with a shake of his head, tossing his keys onto the dresser as he and Sam made their way into the motel room. It wasn't late, but it felt like it was, and Dean wasn't sure if that was because of the daylight that seemed to be diminishing by the day, or the added stress of trying to take care of Sam and find their dad on top of an already generally stressful job. He figured it was probably some combination of both.
Sam nodded, pulling off his jacket and tossing it onto the bed.
"Yeah, but you can't force him to talk, Dean. It's trauma. At least you got him to draw you something, that could be a good sign."
Dean rolled his eyes, his fingers mindlessly ghosting over the folded-up paper still in his pocket while his thoughts drifted back to Lucas. It wasn't hard to put himself in the kid's shoes, and he had hoped opening up himself might help him find his voice… Sam was probably right, that Lucas drawing him something was a good sign, but it wasn't enough.
"Yeah, well we need something to help us figure out what's out there, a – a description, a sound, something. Not a drawing of some house with a red roof."
"He'll come around when he's ready," Sam reasoned, but Dean wasn't in the mood, and he let out a sigh of frustration.
"We don't have time to wait for him to come around."
"And that's why we'll keep working it in the meantime. We'll figure it out, man."
Dean knew his brother was right, but he was itching for just something to go right.
"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, flopping onto the bed he'd claimed as his own earlier while Sam paused, considering.
"The sheriff seem a little off to you? He didn't seem too eager to dig deeper. Maybe he knows more than he's letting on."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Dean muttered. His eyes lingered on the notes they had spread out on the table, but the details still weren't fitting together, and he was starting to feel a ache forming behind his eyes. The lack of bodies or any other evidence, the water, Lucas – none of it was adding up. "Something's definitely out there, and it's gonna hit again."
Sam grabbed his towel and headed towards the bathroom.
"We'll keep looking into the other victims. Maybe we'll find another lead. You heading out for food or staying here?"
"I'll figure something out," Dean shrugged, and Sam didn't wait before ducking around the door, closing it behind him with a crisp click.
Dean immediately found himself rubbing a hand down his face, trying to fight off the exhaustion that was threatening to overwhelm him in that moment. It'd been over a month since his dad had disappeared. It'd been almost a month since the thing that had killed his mother had killed Jess. And there weren't any leads on either of them. The cherry on top was the fact that Sam, despite his protests and attempts to prove otherwise, was clearly not okay, and Dean… well, he had a better poker face, and he wasn't doing quite as bad as Sam… but Dean wasn't sure that was saying much.
With time to kill, he hauled his duffel into his lap and began to dig, shifting through it looking for his own notes. They'd gone through their dad's journal more times than he could count at this point, and they'd already gone through it again that afternoon trying to find something to help them figure out what they were dealing with. Dean doubted his own journal would yield anything better, but it was another place to look.
It was as he was rooting around his belongings that his hand brushed against something hard yet almost velvety, and he paused, realizing it was one of the books Bobby had lent him. He thought about moving past it, pretending it wasn't there, but after half a beat Dean sighed and pulled the tomb out as well, searching for the others as well.
It had been ten weeks, almost to the day, since Lorelai had walked out of his life… since he'd let her walk out, if he were being fair… and it hadn't become any easier of a pill to swallow. Since he'd decided to leave it alone he'd been doing his damndest not to let the witch into his thoughts, but it was easier said than done, and this case in particular was stirring memories he didn't want stirring.
The drownings reminded him of the case they'd worked in Virginia, and he saw more of Lorelai in Andrea than he wanted to… the way she'd called him out in front of the motel, how she was with Lucas, the haunted look in her eyes when she'd talked about Chris.
Dean still didn't want to let his mind dwell, he knew from experience that was a slippery slope, but he realized that this time it might be worth reopening that wound a bit. After all, as he'd learned in the aftermath of their split, the world she'd revealed to him was a lot bigger than just her, and maybe her world had some information to offer.
Sam's reluctance to accept their lake monster theory wasn't unfounded, but Dean still wasn't willing to rule it out entirely. Whatever was out there had freaked the kid out, and monster would fit the bill… though any monster he'd heard of would have also been unlikely to leave a survivor. But there was a whole list of magical creatures he knew next to nothing about, and maybe that's why he and Sam were coming up dry.
He let his eyes skim over the notes he had from the water wraith first. Whatever was going on in Lake Manitoc didn't fit the bill, but it was another box to check off, something to rule out. The notes also let him check off naiads and water djinn, so that was something. Setting them aside, he faltered for a moment, his eyes landing on the book that had been sitting beneath the compilation of papers.
America's History of Wizards and the Non-Magical Community.
It had been one of the first books Dean had read after the information Lorelai had left in the folder. He'd been torn between fascination and utter boredom because, despite the moving pictures and casual reference to things he wouldn't have expected to see outside of a fantasy book, like fucking dragons and giants, the thing was still written like the history books they got in grade school for Social Studies class. Until he'd gotten to the chapters discussing the wars, and Lorelai's comment about having fought in one suddenly made sense.
Dean forced himself to set the book aside, knowing that while it held plenty of answers, they weren't the ones he needed right now. Instead, he picked up the next one, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, his fingers idly tracing the gold embossing decorating the navy cover. It wasn't the first time he'd read through the book, but he found his eyes widening anyway at the detailed descriptions, accompanied by the moving illustrations that still blew his mind as he flipped through the pages and settled back against the headboard.
He skimmed past entries on Acromantulas and Billywigs, pausing briefly on the section about Dragons before reminding himself to focus. As he got to the water creatures, Dean leaned in closer, scanning for anything that might fit what they were dealing with.
Grindylows caught his attention - nasty water demons with long fingers perfect for drowning victims. But they were usually found in Britain, not American lakes. He read about Kelpies and Merpeople, shaking his head slightly at how different they seemed from the Disney version - though he knew from experience that Grimm's fairytales were much closer to any realities than the water-downed movies made for kids.
Dean was so engrossed in reading about a serpentine water creature called the Horned Serpent that he almost missed the sound of the shower turning off. Quickly, he shoved the book and his notes back into his duffel bag, grabbing the TV remote and flipping it on just as Sam emerged from the bathroom.
"Find anything?" Sam asked, toweling off his hair.
"Nah, nothing yet," Dean replied casually, pretending to be invested in some random sitcom. "You?"
"In the shower?" Sam asked skeptically, before shaking his head and shooting Dean a bemused look. "No, but I was thinking we should look into the history of the lake tomorrow, see if we can pinpoint the earliest drowning."
Dean nodded, standing up. "Sounds good. I'm gonna grab a shower."
As he closed the bathroom door behind him, Dean let out a breath. The book had been fascinating, but ultimately unhelpful for their current case. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to learn from Lorelai's world. He just hoped they'd figure out what was going on in Lake Manitoc before anyone else got hurt.
"You're a right pain in the arse sometimes. You know that, right?" George huffed as he navigated his way through the cluttered backroom of Alacester Alley's Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The location was only a few years old – they'd opened it around the time Lorelai began her training with MACUSA. Getting it off the ground had been the last major thing she'd done before really stepping back. But despite its newness relative to the other locations, it was no less busy, and when their store manager came down with Dragon Pox heading into the Thanksgiving break rush, George had come to her rescue, offering to come spend the weekend and lend a hand.
Fully versed by then in Lorelai's aversion to the wizarding public, George had volunteered to work the front, leaving Lorelai to man the back, keeping production going to restock the floor and fill the, quite frankly, ridiculous number of owl orders they'd received. Without looking up, Lorelai rolled her eyes and kept her focus on the cauldron in front of her.
"You'd be lost without me, and you know it," she jabbed back. Off to the side, she heard the swivel chair being pulled out from under the desk, promptly followed by George's weight dropping into.
"Lost without you?" he laughed, leaning back and propping his feet up on the desk. "Please. I've managed just fine these past few years, thank you very much."
Lorelai finally glanced up from her cauldron, arching an eyebrow at him, even as she took in his appearance. His ginger hair was disheveled, and there was a smear of what looked like purple powder across his cheek. Despite the clear exhaustion in his eyes, his mouth was quirked up in its usual mischievous grin.
"Oh really?" she challenged. "And who was it that came up with the Grim Gash Bracelets last month for Halloween? The ones that flew off the shelves faster than we could make them."
George's grin faltered for a moment before he recovered. In all fairness, it had been the first non-defensive product she'd thought of in longer than she could remember, but it had been a success. It made the wearer's hand look like a mangled, bloody stump and George and Ron were already talking about coming up with more variations for next year.
"Alright, fair point," George conceded. "But I'll have you know, Ron's been a surprisingly competent partner. Who would've thought my little brother had it in him?"
"I did," Lorelai snorted, stirring the bubbling bright blue liquid counterclockwise. "That's why I suggested him in the first place, remember?"
George rolled his eyes, but he was looking at her with a certain amount of fondness.
"Yeah, yeah. Always two steps ahead, aren't you?" Lorelai smirked, adding a pinch of powdered moonstone to the cauldron before George continued on. "Though, you know, for part-owner of this place, you're doing a bang-up job of avoiding the actual customers," he teased.
It was Lorelai's turn to roll her eyes.
"I'm providing a valuable service back here, thank you very much. Besides, we both know I'm much better at hexing dark wizards than I am at customer service."
"Yes, we do," he agreed solemnly. "Remember that time you made that kid cry because he asked for your autograph?"
Lorelai groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Are you ever going to let me live that down?"
"Not a chance," George grinned, crumpling up a spare scrap of paper and tossing it at her head. "Come on, take a break. I brought lunch."
It was only then that Lorelai noticed the brown paper bag George had dropped on the desk. Her stomach growled traitorously, reminding her that she'd been so absorbed in her work she'd forgotten to eat. Again.
"Alright, alright," she conceded, finishing the step she was on and casting a stasis charm over the cauldron before conjuring a second chair. George produced two sandwiches and a couple of bottles of butterbeer, setting them out between them. As they ate, George filled her in on the chaos in the main shop.
"It's bloody chaos out there," he said around a mouthful of sandwich. "I swear, every wizard in New York decided to do their Christmas shopping today."
Lorelai nodded sympathetically. "Black Friday's always a nightmare."
"Yeah, well you Americans are absolutely mad. I'll try not to complain though, we've already broken last year's sales and it's not even dinnertime yet."
Lorelai nodded, a sense of pride swelling in her chest. Even though she wasn't as involved in the day-to-day operations anymore, the shop's success still meant a great deal to her. It was Fred's legacy, after all.
"That's fantastic," she said sincerely. "I'm glad you were able to come help out. I know Ron's probably going crazy trying to manage things back home." But George was already waving a hand dismissively.
"Ah, he'll be fine. Angelina's helping out at the Diagon Alley location, and Verity's got Hogsmeade under control. Besides, I couldn't very well leave you to handle this lot on your own, could I?"
Thinking of home brought a momentary shadow across Lorelai's face, but she pushed it aside quickly, long accustomed to the mixed feelings she harbored. It was easy enough, anyway, to focus on the warmth in George's voice. It meant more than she knew how to say the way he'd always had her back.
"How are Angelina and the kids?" she asked, steering the conversation away from herself. George's face, of course, lit up, as it always did when talking about his family.
"They're great. Freddie's started showing signs of magic - set the curtains on fire last week when Angie wouldn't let him have a second helping of pudding."
Lorelai laughed, the sound genuine and warm. "Sounds like he's living up to his namesake already."
"Don't I know it," George grinned, a hint of wistfulness in his eyes. "And Roxanne… she's getting more mobile by the day, and she's starting to get that look about her. Like she's got something to say but she doesn't know how. She's got Angie wrapped around her little finger."
"As if you're any better," Lorelai teased. "Last time I visited, you could hardly bring yourself to put her down."
George had the grace to look sheepish. "Yeah, well... she's got those big, puppy dog eyes of hers. I'm powerless against them."
A comfortable silence fell between them as they finished their lunch. Lorelai found herself studying George's face, noting the lines around his eyes that hadn't been there a few years ago, the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes the way it used to. The loss of Fred was still a palpable presence between them, even after all these years.
"Katie seems good," he commented after a moment, and Lorelai nodded, sipping on her butterbeer.
"She is. It's been nice, having her home for a few days."
"You two're still coming home for Christmas?" George asked, and Lorelai gave him a soft smile.
"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world," she told him genuinely. Something seemed to ease in him at that, though his eyes still narrowed slightly, focusing in on her even as he settled further back into his seat.
"And how're you holding up?" he asked, voice wary but soft. "And don't give me that 'I'm fine' bullshit. I know you too well."
"I am fine," she sighed, earning a skeptical look from her brother-in-law, which only made her roll her eyes. "I am," she insisted. "C'mon, I said fine not good."
George snorted at that, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and amusement.
"'Course," he corrected, and Lorelai let her own chuckle slip out. "My mistake. Don't know what I was thinking."
Lorelai fiddled with the label on her butterbeer bottle as they settled back down, squirming under George's gaze. It had always been useless trying to pretend with him.
"I'm... managing," she finally admitted. "Work's been busy, which helps. And having Katie home for the holiday was nice. I don't really know what else to say. Things are pretty… status quo."
George nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. "And Dean?"
The name sent a jolt through Lorelai's system, and she couldn't quite hide the flinch. She did her best not to let herself think about him anymore. It had been ten weeks… the ship had sailed.
"What about him?" she asked, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile. It did, however, give George all the answer he needed, and she was relieved when he let the subject drop. She ignored the frown that appeared briefly on his face, and the way he eyed her with concern when he thought she wasn't paying attention.
Their conversation drifted to lighter topics after that, catching up on mutual friends and swapping stories about their latest magical inventions. Lorelai found herself relaxing for the first time in weeks, the tension in her shoulders easing as she bantered with George.
All too soon, however, the sounds from the main shop grew louder, signaling another rush of customers. George sighed, pushing himself to his feet.
"Duty calls," he said ruefully. "You sure you don't want to come out and help?"
Lorelai scoffed, vanishing the extra chair with a wave of her wand before pointing at the cauldron.
"Fat chance. Besides, I need to finish this to get the last of the owl orders out. I'll come out in a bit to restock, though. I promise."
George raised his eyebrows in exaggerated shock as he made his way back to the door.
"That would be a first. Don't worry, I'll be sure to alert the media," he teased. Before Lorelai could respond, he was gone, disappearing back into the chaos of the shop.
With a sigh, she turned back to her work, removing the stasis charm and picking the book she was working out of back up. But as she raised her wand to cast another charm, she found her mind wandering. To green eyes and freckles, to stolen moments in cheap motel rooms, to the ache in her chest that never quite seemed to go away.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered, running a hand through her hair before reaching for the jar of Billywig Stings. "Why can't I just forget you?"
But she knew the answer to that question, even if she wasn't ready to admit it to herself. So instead, she threw herself back into her work, losing herself in the intricacies of potion making – by and far not her best skill – trying to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest that no amount of magic seemed able to fill.
True to her word, she eventually emerged from the back room to help restock shelves. The shop was still bustling with activity, and Lorelai had to dodge more than one excited child as she made her way through the aisles, arms laden with boxes of Skiving Snackboxes and Extendable Ears.
She was in the process of arranging a display of Wildfire Whiz-bangs when she felt a tug on her sleeve. Looking down, she found herself face to face with a wide-eyed little girl, that had to have been around Julia's age, no more than seven or eight years old.
"Excuse me," the girl said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you really Lorelai Baudelaire?"
Lorelai pushed down the panic that threatened to rise immediately. This was exactly the kind of interaction she'd been hoping to avoid, she hated being recognized, and there was a good chance the girl's parents were nearby. But her eyes were so full of wonder that Lorelai couldn't bring herself to brush the kid off, as much as she wanted to.
"I am," she admitted, crouching down to the girl's level. "What's your name?"
"Emma," the girl replied, her face lighting up. "I read about you in my history book! Is it true you helped defeat You-Know-Who?"
Lorelai felt a familiar tightness in her chest at the mention of the war, but she pushed it aside.
"I was part of a team that helped, yes," she said carefully. "But there were a lot of brave witches and wizards that worked to take him down."
Emma nodded solemnly, trying hard to keep a straight face.
"My mom says you're a hero. She says you still catch bad wizards now. Is that true too?"
At least, Lorelai reasoned, Emma was the daughter of fans instead of one of her many critics. She wasn't keen on talking about the war, but it was better than other things she'd made headlines for. There was always a certain amount of unease, however, talking about her job as an Auror. The drama from the Spring was still too fresh in her mind.
"I do work for MACUSA," Lorelai confirmed warily. "But I'm not really-"
"Emma!" a voice called out, and Lorelai looked up to see a harried-looking witch making her way towards them. "I'm so sorry," the woman said, reaching for her daughter's hand. "She got away from me. I hope she wasn't bothering you."
"It's not a problem," Lorelai dismissed with a lightness she didn't quite feel. "She was just asking about my work."
The witch's eyes widened in recognition. Lorelai felt her stomach churn uncomfortably and tried not to eye the door to the back too longingly.
"Oh! I didn't realize- It's an honor to meet you, Ms. Baudelaire. My husband and his younger sister were raised by his mother in Kent. He'd already moved here, but your brother helped get his family out when the Ministry fell. We never got a chance to thank your family for everything they did for ours."
Lorelai felt her throat tighten, the feeling of the walls closing in mixing confusingly with the swell of pride she felt for Nolan. The borders had closed, at least the magical ones, when Voldemort had taken over, but he'd run an operation, working with Ben who was still in the States, helping smuggle muggleborns and their families out, while she'd been hunting Horcruxes with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"I- There's no need to thank us," she managed. "We all did what we had to do."
The witch nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Of course. Well, we won't take up any more of your time. Come on, Emma. Let's go find those Pygmy Puffs you wanted to see."
As they walked away, Lorelai heard Emma's excited voice. "Mom! Did you see? I talked to a real hero!"
Lorelai closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened them again, she found George watching her from across the shop, concern etched on his face. She gave him a small nod, indicating she was okay, before turning back to the display she'd been working on.
But her hands were shaking slightly as she arranged the fireworks, and her mind was a million miles away. She thought of Fred, of the battle, of all the faces she'd never see again. And for a brief, selfish moment, she wished for the simplicity of her life on the road with Dean. Where she wasn't Lorelai Baudelaire, war hero, Auror, and the family fuck-up all rolled into one, but just Lor, a woman who hunted monsters and tried to make the world a little safer.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of restocking shelves, ringing up purchases, and dodging well-meaning customers who recognized her. By the time they finally closed up shop, George ushering the last of the employees out as he flipped the Closed sign, Lorelai felt like she'd run a marathon. Her feet ached, her voice was hoarse, and she had a headache brewing behind her eyes.
"Merlin's beard," George groaned as he locked the front door. "I'd forgotten how brutal the holiday rush could be."
Lorelai nodded in agreement, slumping against the counter.
"I blame you," she complained. "Remind me again why you thought this was a good idea?"
George grinned, the fatigue in his eyes overshadowed by a familiar spark of mischief. "Because I'm bloody brilliant, of course. Now come on, we've got a party to get to."
Lorelai groaned again, having almost forgotten about Ian's studio opening celebration. He'd taken all of them by surprise recently, announcing he was branching out and opening a recording studio with one of his buddies that had been doing sound engineering longer than they'd been out of school. It had only been in the quiet of last call when they'd all gone out for drinks, while Olivia had been in the bathroom, that Ian had admitted he was hoping it might give him a bit more stability than touring had.
"Do we have to?" she asked. "I'm exhausted."
"Now I know something's wrong," George teased, pulling her upright. "Lorelai Baudelaire? Turning down a party? I've gone bar hopping with you when you've had a hundred and four fever."
"Must be gettin' old," she quipped, and George snorted.
"As if. Come on, a little music and dancing might do you some good."
Lorelai knew he was right, but that didn't stop her from grumbling as they made their way to the back of the shop to Floo. In a swirl of soot and green flames, they disappeared, reappearing moments later in the lobby of Lorelai's apartment building.
As they climbed the stairs to her floor, Lorelai felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. Despite everything, she knew she was lucky to have people like George in her life. People who understood her, who supported her even when she was at her most difficult.
"Katie!" Lorelai called as they entered the apartment. "We're back!"
Katie emerged from her room, a book tucked under her arm and coffee mug in hand.
"Hey," she greeted them with a small smile. "How was work?"
"Absolute madness," George replied cheerfully. "You should've seen your sister out there, working the crowd like a pro."
Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Hardly. I hid in the back room as much as possible."
Katie's smile widened slightly.
"Yeah, that sounds more likely. Are you guys heading out to Ian's thing soon?"
Lorelai nodded, already moving towards her bedroom.
"Yeah, we just need to change quickly. You sure you don't want to come?" but Katie was already shaking her head.
"No, that's alright. I'm about to pop over to Nick's to stay with Julia. Nat and Damien got roped into watching Mary and Jake's kids. Have fun, though!"
As Lorelai disappeared into her room to change, she could hear George and Katie chatting in the living room. Their easy rapport brought a smile to her face. Katie was a good kid. Lorelai knew she'd still been more than any kid should, but Lorelai was proud that she'd at least been able to give her sister a better childhood than she'd had.
In her room, Lorelai quickly exchanged her work clothes for a simple black dress and heeled boots before hurriedly running a brush through her hair and applying a touch of makeup. As she examined her reflection in the mirror, she found a certain green-eyed hunter creeping back into her thoughts, realizing she'd grabbed one of the dresses he'd liked seeing her in without meaning to.
She shook her head, banishing the thought. Tonight wasn't about Dean. It was about celebrating Ian's success and spending time with her friends. With one last glance in the mirror, she squared her shoulders and headed back out to the living room.
George was waiting for her, having changed into a button-down and slacks. He gave a low whistle as she emerged.
"Look at you, all dolled up. I always forget you do clean up nicely."
Lorelai snorted, swatting his arm playfully. "Save it, Weasley. Ready to go?"
After saying goodbye to Katie and extracting a promise that she'd call if she needed anything, Lorelai and George headed out. Downstairs, they apparated to a hidden alley a few blocks over from the studio and began to walk. The crisp November air felt refreshing, at least, after the stuffy shop.
As they walked, George regaled her with stories about his kids' latest antics. Lorelai listened, laughing at all the right moments, but her mind kept drifting. She wondered, not for the first time, what her life might have looked like if things had gone differently. If Fred had lived. If she and Dean had worked things out.
Before she knew it, however, they were standing at the door, and Lorelai forced herself to shake off any lingering melancholy. George was right, after all – she'd never been one to turn down a good party.
Inside, the studio was already buzzing with activity, filled with a mix of musicians, industry types, and friends. The exposed brick walls were littered with art and posters, various instruments and recording equipment pushed to the sides to clear space. The normal lighting was dimmed, floating balls of light hovering in their place like fairy lights, giving the place a warm, inviting glow.
Lorelai spotted Olivia almost immediately, her friend's familiar dirty-blonde hair standing out in the crowd. Olivia waved enthusiastically, making her way over to them.
"You made it!" she exclaimed, pulling Lorelai into a tight hug before turning to embrace George as well. "How was the shop?"
"Busy," Lorelai replied with a wry smile. "But we survived."
"Barely," George added dramatically. "I think I aged ten years in one day."
Olivia laughed, linking her arm through Lorelai's. "Well, you both look great. Come on, let's get you a drink. Ian's been asking about you."
As they made their way through the crowd, Lorelai found herself relaxing slightly. The party was mostly filled with Ian's musician friends and industry contacts, which meant she was less likely to be recognized. Still, she kept her guard up, years of habit making it hard to fully let loose in public.
Ian greeted them warmly, pulling Lorelai into a bear hug. "Thanks for coming," he said, his eyes bright with excitement. "What do you think of the place?"
"It's amazing, Ian," Lorelai said sincerely, looking around. "You've done an incredible job."
As Ian launched into an enthusiastic explanation of the studio's features, Lorelai found herself genuinely interested. She'd always loved music, and the technical aspects of recording fascinated her. For a while, she was able to lose herself in the conversation, the constant weight of her worries and responsibilities lifting slightly.
The night wore on, and Lorelai found herself enjoying the party more than she'd expected. She chatted with old friends, laughed at George's increasingly ridiculous jokes, and even allowed herself to be coaxed into singing a duet with Ian when he broke out his guitar.
It was during a lull in the conversation, as Lorelai sipped her drink and watched the crowd, that Olivia leaned in close.
"I'm really glad you were able to make it," she said, her voice low. "I hate when you're away so much."
Lorelai caught her friend's eye and gave her a soft smile, trying not to think too hard about the flutter of guilt in her chest. Olivia didn't normally complain about Lorelai's transient lifestyle, but Lorelai knew she'd been even flakier than usual. It would just be a few weeks though, she reasoned, until she'd be home for a month for Katie's winter break. She could rest then.
"I know," Lorelai acknowledged gently. "Miss you." Olivia returned her smile, subtly reaching out to squeeze her hand.
"Miss you too."
For a moment, it looked like Olivia wanted to say more, but before she could, Ian appeared, pulling her onto the dance floor. Lorelai watched them go, a bittersweet smile on her face. She was happy for her friends, truly she was. But watching them together, so in love and carefree, it was hard to ignore the way it made her own heart ache for what she'd lost.
She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice George approaching until he was right beside her.
"Alright," he said, holding out his hand. "That's enough brooding for one night. Come on, dance with me."
Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "I don't brood," she protested weakly, even as she allowed George to pull her onto the dance floor.
"Course you don't," George agreed easily, spinning her around. "You just stare moodily into the distance with a furrowed brow for fun, right?"
Lorelai couldn't help but laugh. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"So I've been told," George grinned. "But admit it, you'd be lost without me," he said, echoing her words from earlier.
As they danced, Lorelai felt some of the tension she'd been carrying start to ease. George had always had that effect on her, even in the darkest days after Fred's death. He understood her in a way few others did, and he never let her wallow for too long.
A few songs later, as they rejoined the party, Lorelai felt lighter than she had in months. The grief and loneliness that had been weighing her down seemed less oppressive somehow. She knew it wouldn't last forever - tomorrow she'd go back to work, back to the constant motion that kept her from dwelling on the things she'd lost. But for now, surrounded by friends and family, with George's steady presence at her side, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could face whatever came next.
The party continued late into the night, a blur of laughter, music, and increasingly ridiculous dance moves (courtesy of George). By the time they stumbled back to Lorelai's apartment, the sky was starting to lighten with the first hints of dawn.
"Shh," Lorelai giggled as they entered, her finger pressed to her lips. "Don't wake Katie."
George nodded solemnly, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the lopsided grin on his face. They made their way to the living room, collapsing onto the couch and armchair respectively in a tangle of limbs.
"That," George declared, "was a bloody brilliant party."
Lorelai hummed in agreement, her eyes already starting to drift closed.
"It was," she murmured. "Thanks for coming with me."
George's response was lost as sleep overtook her, the exhaustion of the long day finally catching up. Her last conscious thought was a feeling of warmth and safety, surrounded by the familiar scents of home and family.
I'm so sorry! This was the week from hell - I originally meant for the chapter to be longer, but I decided to break it up so that I could at least get this out. Unfortunately, I will be out of town this weekend for a funeral so no promises for an update, but next chapter will be up no later than Sunday 10/6!
Anyway, hope you all enjoy! You guys are the best for sticking with me. Your feedback, and people reading and enjoying this story was an enormous bright spot on a very unpleasant week. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much!