So if you look at the dates, you'll notice we've reached the pilot. I know that in the show they say Sam was only gone for two years. I probably could have left it that way, but four years always made more sense to me since Sam's in his senior year of college, and I believe at one point Kripke said they meant to change Dean's line from "two years" to "four years" when they decided to make Sam twenty-two instead of twenty. So I changed it ️ Enjoy!
October 29th - November 2nd, 2005
"Lai!"
Lorelai's bag had barely hit the ground when a four-foot-tall mass barreled into her with a force that threatened to knock her to the floor. A smile, larger than she'd sported in weeks, spread across her face as she returned the embrace, looking down fondly at her goddaughter.
"Julie-bug!" she cried back in greeting. From the corner of her eye, she saw Nick making his way down the hall at a slower pace. He was regarding them with his customary mix of amusement and exasperation, but Lorelai didn't have much of an opportunity to pay attention to him as Julia broke their embrace, only to tug down on her hand excitedly.
"You made it! Dad said you might be late, but I knew you'd be here! Do you like my costume?" Lorelai refrained from sending the dirty look she wanted to in her friend's direction and instead took in the 8-year old's getup. She was decked out in black pants and a black t-shirt, with a familiar, very 80's-esque magenta blazer over top, a chain hanging from her neck, and a light blue bandana tied around her neck like a scarf over that. Bless Nick's heart, she could see he'd tried to help Julia with her hair, though the end result was Julia looking like she just didn't understand when to lay off the hair gel or properly style her bangs. Still, it was a recognizable outfit and Lorelai beamed at her.
"Dude, it's awesome! Joan Jett's iconic. Is that my old blazer?" Julia bit her bottom lip, and nodded up at her, wide eyed and still looking ready to jump up and down in excitement.
"Mom may have stopped by last week with some photos and old Halloween costumes. Guess what inspired the idea?" Nick informed her as he drew level with the girls. They shared a look, both remembering their own Halloweens pre-Lytton.
"Nanna still had your whole costume, but the pants and your shirt didn't fit so I wore my own," Julia shared while Nick leaned over her to hug Lorelai the best he could with the one free arm he had. Lorelai returned the embrace and couldn't help but feel some of the adrenaline and stress she used to fuel herself on the road start to fade upon being surrounded by such a comfortable and familiar presence. For half a second her traitorous mind asked why she couldn't have just made this work, why she couldn't have just fallen in love with the man everyone had expected her to – it would have been so much easier.
But then Nick went in to kiss her on the cheek, and not only did the sensation not invoke any of the stirrings of desire in her that her other paramours had, but he opened his mouth to whisper in her ear, and the disapproving tone that came out brought her crashing back to reality, serving as the startling reminder of how ill-suited they were for one another to begin with.
"You've still got blood on your neck."
Lorelai slapped a hand to her neck as Nick pulled away, giving him a sheepish smile that did nothing to soften the irritation shining in his eyes.
"Well, you look great!" she told Julia earnestly, who had begun eyeing her bag anxiously.
"Lai, you're still coming to the parade, right?" Between her pleading eyes and Nick's underlying disapproval, Lorelai felt the familiar ball of guilt starting to build in her stomach.
"Of course I am," she promised, ruffling Julia's hair before reaching for her bag again. "Just give me a few minutes to put my stuff down and get changed."
"Yay!" Julia actually did start jumping up and down at that point. Lorelai hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and returned to unlocking her door, looking over her shoulder to Nick.
"Sorry," she mouthed. It took a moment, but Nick deflated and gave her a soft but genuine smile, stepping in closer while he kept Julia in his peripheral.
"It's alright," he muttered. "We'll meet you downstairs?" Lorelai kicked the door open and nodded.
"Yeah, I'll walk over with you guys."
Nick nodded and went on to round Julia up, guiding her towards the elevators at the end of the hall, while Lorelai finally made her way into the apartment.
She'd hardly been home in the past month, as was the norm during Katie's school year, and inside felt as empty as it was dark. Lorelai halfheartedly flipped on lights as she made her way through the living room and down the hall towards her bedroom, where she unceremoniously dumped her bag onto the bed before grabbing a change of clothes and ducking into her bathroom. She spared her reflection a passing glance while she turned on the tap and frowned.
Most of the time the constant travel, by some miracle, didn't wear on her physically, but even Lorelai had to admit it had been a while since she'd run herself so hard. Since her promotion, aside from a weekend trip home for Hermione's birthday, she'd been on back-to-back-to-back-to-back cases, hardly pausing long enough to send in the required reports and putting off any and all of her in office duties despite even Conklin's protests that he needed her to at least make an appearance to keep them both out of trouble.
Nick had been right about the smear of blood on her neck – blood she was sure had come from the group of poachers she'd been dealing with just an hour before that had decided to duel rather than accept arrest and go quietly – but that was the least of her concerns. The bags under her eyes were more upsetting, as was her dry skin and dull, frizzy hair. The smudges of dirt along her arms almost made her rethink not opting for a Halloween costume herself. She was feeling pretty confident she could pull off the Muggles' idea of a zombie right about then with minimal to no effort, or their cartoonish idea of a ghoul.
Knowing she didn't have time for a shower until after the Halloween parade, Lorelai made due with some cold water, cleaning charms, and the stash of WonderWitch products she kept on hand courtesy of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, and by the time she was ready to walk out of the apartment she felt like she at least looked herself – even if she was so exhausted and beat down she could have crawled into her bed and not come back out for a whole week. She'd have time to rest when she was dead. Until then, the best thing she knew how to do was stay busy, and the little girl waiting for her downstairs would certainly help her see to that.
"Aw, come on, Lai! One more story, pleeaasee." Lorelai couldn't help but chuckle, shaking her head even as she leaned forward to kiss Julia on the head and re-tuck her covers later that night.
"Nope, that's it for the night. I promised you one story, and you already got three."
"But it's a special occasion!" Lorelai gave her goddaughter a skeptical look.
"Oh? And what occasion would that be?"
A few hours back in New York, one home cooked meal, and a shower later, and Lorelai was amazed at the difference it all made. Being off the road was always a mixed bag, a roller coaster that she could never fully remember the twists and turns to, but the moments with Julia were the most consistently bright and healing. Katie as well, when she wasn't at school.
"Halloween!" Julia laughed, and Lorelai made a face before shaking her head.
"Don't be silly! Halloween isn't until Monday, and you know it."
The parade had been a success, and although Lorelai had been frustrated to have to come home under a deadline, she was very happy she'd made it. Julia had been ecstatic to introduce Lorelai to all of her friends at the Community Center, Nick had been happy to see her but even more so relieved to have someone his own age to hang out with for the day, and she was pitiable enough lately that he'd refrained from his normal complaining about her constant travel. She didn't begrudge him for being wrong about how Dean would take the news, mostly because she'd never believed him anyway and he'd been far from the only one convinced she was being overly dramatic, but it hadn't stopped Nick from feeling bad anyway after hearing how spectacularly wrong he'd been. She'd been miserable enough in the aftermath to allow herself the small enjoyment of the I told you so moment.
"Yeah, but I got to wear my costume today and go trick or treating."
"That wasn't trick or treating. Don't you remember how much candy we get when we go to Nanna and Popop's house?" Julia's brown eyes widened comically, and a large smile spread across her face.
"Yes! Can we go tomorrow?"
"Monday, Jules." The little girl pouted for a moment, but then turned a hopeful eye to Lorelai in a way that made her wonder if her influence truly had been too much on the girl.
"Can I come stay with you tomorrow night since I have to wait all the way until Monday to go trick or treating?" she begged, emphasizing the wait as if it were the worst punishment in the world rather than the way the calendar had worked out. "You'll still be here, right?" Lorelai had begun to laugh, but softened at the anxious note Julia's voice had taken.
"I promise, I'll still be here tomorrow. But you can only come stay with me if you go to sleep. Otherwise, your Dad's going to complain I'm a bad influence."
"What's that mean?" Lorelai smirked and dropped one more kiss to Julia's head, moving to stand up.
"Never mind. Just get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning, Bug." For a moment, it looked like Julia wasn't going to go down so easy, but in the end, she nodded and settled back into her pillows.
"Alright. Goodnight, Lai. I love you." Lorelai smiled. She'd never have guessed an eight-year-old would be able to have her so wrapped around her finger.
"Love you too, Jules. Sleep tight."
Lorelai closed the door as gently as she could, silently casting a protective spell over the doorway out of habit before turning and padding down the hallway to Nick's living room, where she could already hear him and Ian complaining at whatever game they had going on the TV.
"Ooh, Lorelai! Thank Merlin, I've had enough hockey talk to last the rest of the year!" Olivia said from her spot at the counter as soon as Lorelai appeared in the doorway. She'd worked her dirty blonde hair into a purposely messy half up-do and donned a royal blue dress that complimented her coloring and made her eyes pop. From the couch, Ian snorted and looked at his girlfriend skeptically.
"I'm sorry, did you just say that as if Lorelai was a welcome relief from talking about hockey? Liv, she's worse than me and Nick put together. We didn't even watch hockey until she browbeat us into it."
"As if it was a hard sell," Lorelai threw back. Ian shrugged and took a swig from his beer, while Nick looked up in mild interest but mostly concern as they locked eyes.
"She go down okay?" he asked. Lorelai shrugged, coming to stand next to Olivia and reaching for the small bag she'd left on the counter.
"Easy enough. She wants to come stay with me tomorrow." Nick only looked at her in false surprise.
"You don't say." Lorelai rolled her eyes, pointedly waiting for an answer. Eventually he smiled and took a drink, leaning back into his seat. "It's fine, Lorelai. I wouldn't expect anything else."
"You sure she's not Lorelai's?" Ian joked, and Olivia lightly smacked the back of his head.
"Ian!"
"Believe me, man, I wish. Marissa was a fucking nightmare," Nick bemoaned, shuddering a bit in the process. Lorelai and Olivia both frowned. Eight years still hadn't been enough time.
"A nightmare we tried to warn you about," Olivia pointed out.
"Yeah, well, we were seventeen, and she was hot," Nick countered.
"And easy," Ian added, earning a look from both of the girls, but Nick was already nodding his agreement.
"Very easy."
"Not to mention airheaded," Lorelai tacked on with a false brightness.
"And bitchy," Oliva joined in, and Lorelai nodded her agreement.
"Super bitchy."
Nick narrowed his eyes slightly, but Lorelai only grinned back. It was an old routine by then, but neither her nor Olivia had gotten tired of the I told you so they could still lord over his head when it came to his fling with Marissa Simms.
"Yeah, well thankfully Julia doesn't seem to take after her too much," Nick cut across them, "and you two haven't had to see her since she bailed, so maybe we can move past it." Olivia and Lorelai both snorted.
"Fat chance," Lorelai told him, "but I'll drop it for right now because we have somewhere to be."
"You sure you don't want to come?" Olivia asked Ian, but he shook his head, a genuine smile on his face.
"Nah, Nick and I'll hang here. You two enjoy your girls' night out."
"Won't be much of a girls' night, Nolan's meeting us too," Lorelai pointed out, but at the uncomfortable looks her friends exchanged she realized what was coming even before they silently decided who would be the messenger of her brother's latest disappointment.
"Actually, Nolan called while you were in with Julia," Olivia finally announced, trailing off awkwardly. Lorelai rolled her eyes and looked in Nick's direction. He immediately sighed, knowing full well the thoughts already swirling through her head, and opted to put Olivia out of her misery.
"Jane's not feeling well," he supplied flatly, his body language indicating that he bought the excuse just as much as Lorelai did. Which was not at all. She nodded, and plastered a smile on, refusing to let the disappointing but predictable news dampen her evening, and biting back the string of curses that immediately came to mind at the thought of her sister-in-law.
"Emily's still coming though. She said she'd meet us at the bar!" Olivia added brightly. Nick finished the beer he'd been working on and got to his feet, heading in Lorelai's direction on the way to the kitchen.
"Great, let's go."
Ian grabbed Olivia's hand, pulling her towards him, and Nick stepped in towards Lorelai as she turned away to give them their moment. They shared a look, and he ultimately deflated, the sympathy clear on his face and he pulled her against him with his free hand in a brief hug.
"Chin up, we can slip that bad batch of Sinusitis Sours in her food at Thanksgiving and show her what sick really is," he muttered, and Lorelai reared back to look at him, her face full of surprise and suspicion. "What?"
"You're never this nice to me. Who are you and what have you done with Nick Russo?"
"Aw come on, I'm nice to you all the time." Lorelai pretended to think for a moment but then shook her head.
"No you're not. Normally I'd be the one to suggest poison, and you'd tell me I'm too old to pull those kinds of stunts anymore. Am I dying? Do you know something I don't?"
"No," he smirked, "it's just been a while since you've been this pathetic, and offering to cause bodily harm to Jane Seymour has pretty much never failed to cheer you up." Lorelai narrowed her eyes and made to shove him just as he ducked away to drop the empty bottle into the trash.
"Who're you calling pathetic?" she challenged, but Nick only raised his eyebrows over his shoulder while he grabbed a new drink.
"It's me, Lorelai. I've known you literally our entire lives, and I manage all of your case files, so whatever you'd like to tell those two," he whispered, nodding in the direction of Olivia and Ian as he sidled back up next to her, "I'm completely aware that this is your first day off in over a month, and that even still you were out in the field this morning taking in poachers Opfrey was supposed to be handling."
"Well maybe if Opfrey had half a brain –"
"Don't start," Nick cut over her gently and Lorelai sighed, grabbing the beer from his hands and stealing a sip before he took it back.
"Work's just been busy," she defended. Nick regarded her for a moment, silently warring with himself whether or not to press the issue she knew, but despite the fact that he was unconvinced he pursed his lips and nodded.
"Yeah, okay. Just try and have fun tonight, yeah? Jules and I'll see you tomorrow for lunch."
Lorelai breathed in but nodded. How hard could it be really to enjoy a night catching up with her sister and her best girlfriend?
It hadn't been late when Dean made it to Palo Alto. The sun had set, but the streets had been alive with activity, students out and about enjoying the Saturday night of Halloween weekend.
It hadn't been late when he'd gotten there, but it was now, hours later, as Dean found himself still sitting outside staring up at Sam's apartment building.
The past six weeks had been absolute crap, and that was putting it mildly.
Everything that had gone down with Lorelai would have been bad enough on its own. The anger he'd felt in the aftermath was like the shitty gift that just kept on giving, and every time he thought he'd peaked, he'd found a new part of it to be pissed off about. He was pissed that he'd been completely honest with her, while she'd been lying to him the whole time. He was pissed that she hadn't trusted him, that she let it get so far before she told him. He was pissed that he hadn't realized something was up, that he hadn't trusted the voice that said it had all been too good to be true. He was pissed when he realized the depth of her deception and the lengths she'd had to go to in order to keep all of it a secret from him. He was pissed at how much of herself she'd hidden away.
He was pissed that she felt like she had to. He was pissed that he still missed her. He was pissed that he had fallen for her.
Worst of all, he was pissed he'd proven her right.
It had taken him some time to revisit the folder she'd left behind. Oregon had been its own type of frustration – another case of him hauling ass to get where his dad told him to be, only for John to have vanished into the wind, leaving Dean to clean up the mess.
It was hard to be as mad about that as he normally would have been, given how welcome the distraction of a hunt was in that moment. Dean still wasn't totally sure what he'd been dealing with – some freak monster that had a taste for Free Masons and their pets, but decapitation had seemed to do the trick well enough.
He'd actually gotten to meet up with his dad after that, the two of them teaming up to tackle a particularly vengeful spirit in Iowa. Dean had still been fuming and had gone with every intent to tell John what had happened with Lorelai. But then his dad had asked how she was doing, and Dean couldn't form his mouth around the words. It was around then that he realized maybe the issue wasn't as cut and dry as he wanted to believe. He only lasted another day or two before he found himself reluctantly pulling the folder out from his bag, flashlight in hand as he camped out in the Impala in the parking lot of a local greasy spoon.
The contents had made his head spin, and he'd had to take it in chunks. There'd been a new wave of anger when he'd realized how well she knew him to have pulled together what she did, how easily she'd been able to pick out the things that would catch his attention… how well she'd anticipated his reaction.
In the end it had been the list of other hunters that had really won him over. He recognized a few names, but it had been one in particular that leapt off the page.
Bobby Singer. Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
Bobby and his dad had had a falling out, the details of which Dean wasn't sure he even knew, but Bobby had been family. Still was, as far as Dean was concerned. Singer Salvage Yard had been the closest thing to a home outside of the Impala Dean had known past the age of four.
So, he'd made a call. And after Iowa his dad headed west, and Dean went south… but only after he made a detour to good old Sioux Falls. Even with Bobby, Dean had been tight-lipped. The grizzled, old hunter seemed to sense there was more to the story than Dean was telling him, but he didn't push, only handing Dean a stack of books and telling him not to let his fool father cloud his better judgment, and to call him if he wanted to talk.
The books had brought about their own tailspin, but he didn't have a chance to finish them before his life had gone further off the rails.
He'd been in New Orleans a little more than a week when his dad went radio silent. John had been flaky enough lately that the behavior shouldn't have raised a red flag, but something in Dean's gut had told him this time was different, and as the days stretched on and turned into weeks, he felt justified in concluding something was wrong.
And that was how he found himself, lurking in the shadows outside his brother's apartment in the late hours of the night, wrestling with what he needed to do.
In the almost four years Sam had been gone, Dean hadn't spoken to him once. The fight that had split them all apart had been between Sam and John, but Dean had ended up as collateral.
Dean didn't generally let himself think about it very hard or very long… his emotions around it were complicated, and so it was better left untouched.
After three weeks, however, and no word on their dad… Dean was willing to fight through a lot of shit, but this wasn't something he wanted to tackle on his own.
He'd briefly considered calling Lorelai but dismissed that idea even faster. It had less to do with how pissed he still was, though he was still plenty pissed, and more to do with the guilt that was starting to creep in. There was a lot for him to work through… he still wasn't sure how he felt about the whole witch thing, or magic… but the fact remained that despite all of it, he hadn't stopped thinking about her, and he wanted to make things right.
Calling her up after the way he'd acted, after the way they'd left things, and asking her for help tracking down his dad didn't seem like the best way to go about it. And he couldn't expect John to mean shit to her. At least with Sam, John was his dad too.
Reaching out to Sam wasn't much less intimidating, though. Dean was nervous enough that he'd driven all the fuck the way out here instead of picking up the phone. Maybe it was ridiculous, but he was hoping it would be harder to turn him down in person.
It shouldn't have been this hard. Sam was his brother, his blood… there was nothing Dean hadn't been willing to do for the kid. Yet here he was, wasting the hours away, terrified to knock on the door. He'd faced down demons, monsters, and spirits alike, but the thought of facing his baby brother was enough to make him want to be sick.
What if Sam wanted nothing to do with him? What if Sam told him to get lost or get dead? After all, Dean wasn't the one who wrote him off. What reason did he have to believe after four years of nothing that Sam would have any interest?
Still, it was the best option he had, and the only thing he could even begin to stomach. So, with a deep breath and a burst of determination, Dean finally opened the car door and pushed to his feet. Maybe there wasn't anything good waiting for him inside, but he already knew there wasn't anything of value to him sitting and waiting the way he was. Whether he liked it or not, it was time to put on a brave face and give it his best shot. He'd deal with the consequences later.
The bar Lorelai and Olivia had chosen for their night out was thankfully only a few blocks over from the apartment building both Lorelai and Nick lived in and was walkable. Olivia had tried to convince her to go to The Blind Pig, arguing that in keeping with tradition, there was a strict no press rule in effect, but Lorelai had been stubborn after the incident at New Years' and Emily, having borne some of the fallout herself thanks to their physical likeness, had agreed it was usually easier to stick with the Muggles – at least in New York.
And so, with the alcohol flowing freely, and cloaked by the anonymity the Muggle world provided her, Lorelai found herself a few hours into the night having an easier time enjoying herself than she had anticipated. Emily had beaten them there and scoped out a small high-top table near the bar, and the music blaring from the speakers was more pop-y than her personal tastes, but certainly tolerable.
"Those kids are exhausting," Emily was complaining as Lorelai sipped at the vodka cranberry in her hand. In all honesty, she wasn't quite sure what number this one made, but she was buzzed at best. "I swear, I don't know how Mary does it all the time."
"Aw, you mean babysitting for the week didn't make you realize you're missing out and leave you with a burning need to settle down and start popping 'em out immediately?" Lorelai asked with false surprise, and Olivia snorted while Emily shuddered.
"Definitely not. It was a living ad for birth control if I've ever seen one. No, I'm quite content with my two-bedroom flat and seeing Louis a few nights a week for the moment, thank you very much."
Lorelai smiled wryly, tipping back more of her drink. Olivia's eyes predictably lit up in interest.
"Speaking of which, how are things going with your investment banker?" she asked. Emily shrugged, fiddling with a napkin, a faint blush blooming across her cheeks.
"They're going alright," she acknowledged. "It's still early, but I like him. We're going out tomorrow… he has tickets to something."
"I'm sure Howard and Helena are thrilled," Lorelai said dryly.
"Merlin, no, it's too early to tell them," Emily disagreed quickly, looking uncomfortable, and Lorelai grinned widely. Normally she was the one keeping things from their overly invested aunt and uncle. "We'll see how things are going around the holidays."
"At least someone's caught on," Lorelai snorted. Emily looked like she had something to say – probably some reminder that her relationship with the heads of their family didn't have to be so contentious if she would just try – but Olivia, reading the signs, smoothly interjected.
"So Lorelai, how long are you in town? Just the weekend, or –"
"I'll be here at least until Wednesday," Lorelai told them. "Halloween's always a bit crazy at the shop, so I volunteered to take the day and go in, help out. Then Nick has me booked with so many depositions and meetings for Tuesday it'll be a miracle if I make it through the day without offing myself."
Olivia shot Lorelai a disapproving look same way she did every time Lorelai's macabre humor reared its head, but Lorelai only gave back a cheeky smile.
"That's not funny, Lorelai," Olivia complained.
"Oh, I think I'm hilarious," Lorelai disagreed. Olivia's mouth dropped open, a somewhat indignant look on her face, but Lorelai was surprised when Emily interjected, coming unexpectedly to her aid.
"Come off it, Olivia. You know she didn't mean anything by it."
Olivia's mouth closed with a snap, though she still seemed a bit huffy. Her eyes swiveled to Emily instead, but Lorelai felt a wave of guilt as she noticed the flash of pain Olivia tried to hide. Lorelai's mortality was a somewhat touchy subject for Olivia, who unlike Lorelai or Emily, hadn't really lost anyone before, but had lived through the horror of thinking her best friend had died at least twice.
"I really didn't," Lorelai offered, her voice quiet but just loud enough to be heard over the general din of the room. It caught Olivia's attention, and the other girl turned back, surprise evident in her features. "Mean anything by it, I mean. Sorry."
Olivia softened, and they shared a look, understanding passing between them.
"It's alright," Olivia sighed, rolling her eyes even as an affectionate smile found its way onto her face. "Me too."
Lorelai was relieved when the three of them fell back into their conversation, Emily managing to shift the topic away from Lorelai's travel plans to how Olivia's trip to Greece had been with Ian, and then how Katie's birthday had been. Lorelai had been stuck on a case, but Emily had dropped by the school and taken Katie out for lunch.
"I can't believe she's already thirteen," Lorelai mused, while the other two nodded their agreement. "Feels like just yesterday she was this precocious little six-year-old, not even waist-high, pulling my apartment apart looking for more books to read."
"And now she's a teenager," Emily added. "Merlin help us all."
"You're just lucky she's not following in your footsteps," Olivia said, shooting a pointed look in Lorelai's direction. "You were a nightmare at that age."
"Oh, because you were so perfect," Lorelai retorted as all of them laughed.
"Next to you and Nick, I was!" she defended. "You two were always in detention. Wasn't it our second year that you flooded the Charms hallway?"
"They never proved that," Lorelai quipped lightly, though she absolutely had. Emily and Olivia both shook their heads at her, all of them taking a moment to sip at their drinks.
"What'd you two get her, anyway?" Olivia asked.
"I took her shopping when I went to visit and she bought a bunch of new clothes," Emily supplied. Lorelai shrugged when their eyes turned to her.
"Picked up a handful of books I knew she had her eye on and some CDs. Nothing too crazy."
It was deep enough into the evening that Lorelai naively thought she'd managed to avoid the topic she'd been doing everything she could not to think about. So, when Olivia eventually turned to her, an almost nervous look in her eye and her voice taking on a cautious tone, Lorelai wasn't ready for it.
"So, um… have you heard anything from Dean lately?"
The question hit Lorelai like a physical blow, the knife in her heart twisting painfully. She fought to keep her expression neutral, but she could feel the muscles in her jaw tightening.
"Nope," she said, popping the 'p' with forced nonchalance. "Why would I?" Olivia and Emily exchanged a look that Lorelai pretended not to notice.
"I just thought... you know, maybe he'd reached out or something," Olivia said carefully.
Despite everything, it had been Lorelai's deepest hope that he would have. It had been six weeks, though, and Lorelai had long since realized it was a lost cause. Hell, she'd given up hope after week three. At this point, she was just trying to put it behind her.
"Not a peep," she shrugged, downing more of her drink. "But who cares? I like my freedom, anyway, and it wasn't like it was anything serious."
The words tasted like ash in her mouth, but she forced them out anyway, desperate to maintain the illusion that she wasn't falling apart inside. Emily, either not picking up on the tension or choosing to ignore it, leaned forward.
"Come on, Lai. You can't honestly expect us to believe that. You were with him for months, and-"
"Em," Olivia cut in sharply, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. Emily's mouth snapped shut, her eyes widening as she realized her misstep. Lorelai felt a surge of gratitude towards Olivia, even as irritation flared at Emily's pushiness. At least one of them knew when to back off.
"Look," Lorelai said, plastering on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It was fun while it lasted, but it was never going to work out. The hell am I gonna do? Sit around and cry about it? Fuck that." She drained the last of her drink, slamming the glass down on the table with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "I'm gonna grab another round. You guys want anything?"
Without waiting for an answer, Lorelai slid off her stool and made her way to the bar, leaving Olivia and Emily to exchange worried glances behind her back. Glances Lorelai couldn't even pretend to have the patience for.
As she leaned against the polished wood, waiting for the bartender to notice her, Lorelai let her eyes wander over the other patrons. Her gaze landed on a tall, blond-haired man a few seats down, and she felt a familiar spark of interest. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with broad shoulders and a jawline that could cut glass.
The man must have felt her eyes on him because he turned, meeting her gaze. A slow smile spread across his face, and Lorelai felt a thrill run through her. This was familiar territory, the kind of game she'd played a hundred times before Dean had come along and turned her world upside down.
Without conscious thought, Lorelai found herself returning the smile, her body language shifting subtly to something more inviting. The man took the bait, sliding off his stool and making his way over to her.
"Hi there," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Can I buy you a drink?"
Lorelai tilted her head, considering him. "I don't know, can you?" she teased, her voice taking on a flirtatious lilt that felt both foreign and comfortingly familiar on her tongue. Maybe she was a little out of practice, but this at least seemed like easy pickings. The man chuckled, holding out his hand.
"I'm Matt."
"Lorelai," she replied, taking his hand. His grip was firm, his skin warm against hers and smooth. She tried not to think about how different it felt from…
No, she reminded herself, she wasn't going to go there.
"Nice to meet you, Matt."
"So, Lorelai," Matt said, leaning in slightly. "What brings a beautiful woman like you out on a night like this?" Lorelai laughed, managing to make it sound only slightly forced.
"Just catching up with some friends," she replied, gesturing vaguely towards Emily and Olivia. "You?"
"Bachelor party," Matt explained, nodding towards a rowdy group at the other end of the bar. "But I think I've found a much more interesting way to spend my evening."
The line was cheesy, but Lorelai found herself smiling anyway. This was easy. Familiar. No complications, no expectations. Just two adults enjoying each other's company.
"Is that so?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "And what did you have in mind?"
Matt's grin widened. "Well, for starters, how about that drink?"
As Matt flagged down the bartender, Lorelai could feel Olivia and Emily's eyes on her back. A glance towards them revealed Olivia watching her with a mixture of concern and resignation, while Emily looked confused, if not slightly hurt. Lorelai felt a twinge of guilt but pushed it aside. Right now, all she wanted was to lose herself in the familiar dance of flirtation and attraction, to prove to herself (and everyone else) that she was fine, that Dean hadn't left a gaping hole in her life that she didn't know how to fill.
Matt turned out to be charming and attentive, laughing at her jokes and leaning in close to be heard over the noise of the bar. With each passing minute, Lorelai found herself drinking more, the alcohol dulling the persistent ache in her chest and making it easier to ignore the voice in the back of her head that kept whispering Dean's name.
By the time Matt suggested they head back to his hotel room, Lorelai was well and truly drunk. The room spun slightly as she stood, but she managed to keep her balance, shooting a quick thumbs up to Olivia and Emily before allowing Matt to guide her out of the bar.
The cool night air hit her like a slap to the face, momentarily clearing her head. For a split second, Lorelai considered turning back, going home to her empty apartment and facing her demons head-on. But then Matt's arm slid around her waist, and she leaned into his solid warmth, pushing away the nagging doubts.
The taxi ride to Matt's hotel was a blur of wandering hands and heated kisses. By the time they stumbled into his room, half the clasps and buttons of Lorelai's dress were already undone, Matt's lips trailing fire down her neck.
As clothes hit the floor and bodies tangled on the bed, Lorelai closed her eyes, willing herself to get lost in the sensations. Matt was skilled enough, his touches confident and sure, but something was missing. There was no spark, no electric connection that made her feel like she was flying and falling all at once.
She pushed the thoughts away, focusing instead on the physical pleasure. It was fine, she told herself. Good, even. But as Matt moved above her, his face contorted in ecstasy, all Lorelai could think about was green eyes and freckles, calloused hands that knew every inch of her body like a well-loved map.
When it was over, Matt pulled her close, his arm draped heavily over her waist. Lorelai lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling more alone than ever. The alcohol in her system made her limbs feel heavy, her eyelids drooping despite the fact that she knew she should get home.
As sleep threatened to take over, though, and quiet permeated the space while Matt slumbered next to her, Lorelai couldn't help but breathe sigh of relief. The combined effects of the alcohol and her physical exertion had finally slowed the constant stream of thoughts in her mind, and Lorelai welcomed the break, drifting off to what she hoped would be a dreamless sleep.
"I mean, come on. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you," Sam berated while he followed Dean down the steps of his apartment building.
"You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him."
Dean could feel his own frustration building as he retreated down the stairwell of his brother's apartment building with Sam trailing behind him. Over the last few months, he'd grown used to having a partner that was equally eager to jump into cases and help out with whatever crazy shit was going on. Dean had expected some push back from his little brother, he'd known this wasn't the world Sam wanted to be part of, but he had also hoped to have enough credibility that Sam would have heard his predicament and taken it seriously.
"You remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He's always missing, he's always fine." Dean stopped and turned around, halting Sam in his tracks. He still wasn't getting it, and Dean was losing patience.
"Not for this long. Now are you gonna come with me or not?"
"I'm not."
Dean felt his own face darkening, and he bit back the urge to tell Sam exactly how immature and selfish he was being.
"Why not?" he questioned instead.
"I swore I was done hunting. For good." Dean rolled his eyes and resumed making his way down the stairs. Fucking drama queen and a half he thought to himself.
"Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad," he called back, Sam trailing behind him once more.
"Yeah?" Sam threw back challengingly, the front door now looming. "When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45."
"Well, what was he supposed to do?" Dean posed, pausing with his hand on the knob to look Sam in the eye again.
"I was nine years old!" Sam vented. "He was supposed to say, don't be afraid of the dark."
"Don't be afraid of the dark?" Dean repeated back incredulously. "Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there." Something in his words seemed to strike a chord, and Sam visibly deflated a bit, his voice softening ever so slightly.
"Yeah, I know, but still. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed, and Dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her…" Dean glanced outside, remembering a conversation he'd had himself not all that long ago about what the same crusade meant to him rather than John.
"- but we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find."
"We save a lot of people doing it, too," Dean reminded him promptly, his resolve only deepening. For a moment he saw a different face bathed in moonlight, a feminine one, her dark blue eyes brimming with emotion, and her fingers curled in the front of his shirt while she used his arm as a pillow and looked up at him somewhat nervously.
I just don't want anyone else to go through what I did, she'd admitted. It's too late for me, you know? But it doesn't have to be for everyone else, and it's a healthier outlet that just self-medicating myself into an early grave.
"You think Mom would have wanted this for us?"
Sam's question startled Dean from his memory, but only served to further raise his ire, and he rolled his eyes before slamming the door open. Maybe trying to enlist Sam hadn't been his best idea.
"The weapons training, and melting silver into bullets?" Sam continued, following after him down towards the car. Dean ground his teeth, determined not to match his brother's emotions. "Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors."
"So what are you gonna do?" Dean finally snapped as they reached the Impala. Turning to face Sam, the apartment building came back into view, and he was surprised at the wave of resentment and anger that flared. The normal reasons were there – the isolation he'd felt in the last four years, being cut off after everything he'd done for Sam because of something their dad had done, the extra burden that had been placed on him as a result – but it was mixed with something else now too. Flashes of the beach and the Baudelaire clan flooded his mind. Despite the way it all turned out, he remembered how welcomed he'd felt, and how real the possibility had felt – even if it was just for a short time – but how real the possibility had felt that he could still find a somewhat normal life that could coexist with the realities he faced every day. What a fucking pipe dream. "You just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?" he spat.
"No. Not normal. Safe."
"And that's why you ran away," Dean accused, falling back on his old injuries, the other ones being too fresh and too personal to allow in.
"I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone. And that's what I'm doing."
"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If he's not dead already. I can feel it," Dean told him, bringing both of them back to the focus on their little family reunion. Sam was silent and Dean breathed in, knowing what he needed to do.
"I can't do this alone," he finally admitted. Sam didn't need to know that if it weren't for his hot-headed tendencies, he likely wouldn't be alone.
"Yes, you can." Dean looked away for a moment, wrestling with his urge to just say fine, fuck you, and walk away.
"Yeah, well, I don't want to." Sam sighed, and Dean could almost see the gears turning in his head.
"What was he hunting?" Dean smiled and tried not let his grin spread too wide. Family was a pain in the dick, but it counted for something.
Harsh sunlight filtered through the break in the hotel curtains the next morning, pulling Lorelai from what had ended up being a restless sleep. Her head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind her eyes in time with her heartbeat, and her mouth felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton. She blinked, disoriented for a moment before the events of the previous night came rushing back.
Beside her, Matt snored softly, his arm still thrown across her midsection. The weight of it felt suffocating, and Lorelai carefully extracted herself, moving slowly to avoid waking him or aggravating her hangover.
As quickly and as quietly as she could, Lorelai found her scattered clothes and pulled them back on. It felt like the walls were closing in on her by the minute, and suddenly all she wanted was to be back in her apartment. It was as she pulled her boots on, her hand reassuringly running over her wand, that she glanced back at Matt's sleeping form.
In the light of day, he was… fine. Still attractive, and he'd been pleasant company… but Lorelai just wanted to get as far away as possible. He was another nameless, faceless encounter that left her feeling hollow and unsatisfied, and she felt a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with the hangover.
Lorelai slipped out of the room without a backward glance, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that echoed in her chest. The elevator ride down to the lobby was mercifully short, and soon she was out on the street, the crisp morning air helping to clear some of the fog from her mind. She walked about two blocks, relishing the feel, before she finally ducked into an alley. After double checking she was well and truly alone, she pulled her wand and turned on the spot, relaxing when the familiar lobby of her building materialized around her.
Inside her apartment, Lorelai downed about half a bottle of water before heading straight for the bathroom, stripping off her clothes and stepping under the hot spray of the shower. She stood there for a long time, letting the water sluice over her body, as if it could wash away more than just the physical remnants of the night before. And although not entirely effective, she at least felt marginally more human by the time she stepped out.
Cleaned and dressed in a pair of comfortable leggings and an oversized sweater, Lorelai turned her attention to the bag she'd dumped unceremoniously on the bed the day before. She wasn't planning on being home long, but she knew she needed to properly unpack, restock, and pack a new bag for her next excursion, and now was as good a time as any.
It only took a few waves of her wand to have her things pulling themselves out from the depths of the magically expanded bag and sorting themselves. While they did, Lorelai made mental notes of things she needed to restock before heading out again. More Dittany, definitely. A new pair of dragonhide gloves, her old ones were wearing thin. She'd need to swing by the apothecary for some ingredients, too.
It was a methodical process, well-practiced from years of living out of a suitcase. Clothes went into the hamper or back into drawers, depending on their state. Weapons were carefully cleaned and stored away. Books were returned to their places on the shelves.
It was as she was hanging up a jacket that something caught her eye. Tucked into the frame of her mirror was a photo she'd forgotten about – her and Dean, taken during the weekend he'd spent with her and her family in the Hamptons. Dean's arm was slung casually around her shoulders, hers around his waist, large smiles on both their faces. They looked… happy… carefree… and it felt like she was being mocked.
A wave of anger and hurt washed over Lorelai, so intense it made her dizzy. Without thinking, she yanked the photo from the frame, her fingers trembling as she held it.
For a moment, she was tempted to rip it to shreds, to destroy this tangible evidence of what she'd lost… of how stupid she'd been to let her guard down. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she wrenched open one of the dresser drawers and shoved the photo inside, slamming it shut with enough force to rattle the lamp on top.
Lorelai braced her hands on the edge of the dresser, taking deep, shuddering breaths as she fought to regain control. She couldn't fall apart, not now. Not when Nick and Julia would be here soon for lunch.
With tremendous effort, she pushed the emotions down, locking them away in that dark corner of her heart where she kept all the things that hurt too much to face. She had a lifetime of practice at this, after all. And squaring her shoulders, Lorelai turned away from the mirror. She had work to do, a goddaughter to entertain, and a life to live. And if sometimes, in the quiet moments between breaths, she felt like she was drowning in all the things left unsaid... well, that was nobody's business but her own.
Tuesday night came too soon, and as Dean pulled back up to Sam's apartment building, there was a mix of emotions swirling around in his chest he wasn't quite sure what to do with. Despite the events of the last few days, they hadn't turned up anything that made him feel better about where their dad was, except for maybe the coordinates – but the fact that John had left the journal behind created more concerns than the fears proof of life set to rest.
Working with Sam again… the fact that Sam had agreed to come had been its own miracle, and it had been easy enough to pick up with him, almost, at times anyway, as if the past four years hadn't happened. But the reminders had been there.
Their argument on the bridge still rung in Dean's head, though he wasn't sure that was fair to put on Sam. His feelings about the "truth" and relationships were complicated these days. He'd been in Sam's position with Cassie, and he'd been in Jess's position now too. Both times the truth and blown things to hell. He also knew, however, that there'd have never been any type of future with Lorelai or Cassie until those truths had come out.
And so maybe his dad had been right, that someone with their life just couldn't have those kinds of connections. He didn't want to believe that, but he was struggling to see an alternative.
Then there was the fact that Sam coming with him had been temporary. Here he was, dropping Sam back off to this life he'd constructed, with his girl and a law school interview, while Dean would be going on to Blackwater Ridge, Colorado on his own. For as good as the last few days had been, this was the stark reminder he didn't need that it had only been temporary.
Sam climbed out of the car but paused and turned back after he shut the door, leaning into the open window – another problem Dean would have to fix. Because, of course, why not add a list of car repairs to the growing pile of shit he had to take care of?
"Call me if you find him?" Dean pursed his lips but nodded. There was plenty he wanted to say, but none of it seemed worth it. "And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?"
The offer still wasn't what Dean wanted, but it was more than he thought he'd get, an inkling of hope… and so he nodded.
"Yeah, all right." There was a beat of silence and then Sam tapped the car door twice before turning and walking towards the building. It was in that moment that Dean found himself leaning towards the passenger side, whatever filter he'd been trying to keep in place faltering, and his mouth moving of its own accord.
"Sam?"
His brother stopped and turned back, curious. Dean tried to put on a winning expression, one that conveyed a lightness he didn't actually feel.
"You know, we made a hell of a team back there."
Sam gave him a small smile and nodded.
"Yeah."
It was as good a goodbye as Dean could ask for, especially relative to their last, and so without waiting, he turned his attention forward and started to drive.
And as he pulled away from Sam's apartment building and hit the road, the streetlights cast intermittent shadows across the dashboard. Dean couldn't help the thoughts that continued to churn. He'd meant what he'd said – they made a good team, just like old times. If anything, though, it left him feeling more alone than he had felt before.
It wasn't fair. Dean knew he should be happy for his brother, or at least happier than he was – the fact that Sam hadn't told Jess the truth was still a recipe for disaster – but he knew that by all accounts, what Sam had done for himself was a good thing. But a part of Dean, a part of him he wasn't proud of, felt bitter. Abandoned, even. It was the same hurt he'd been struggling with for years.
His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, a restless energy coursing through him as his thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Lorelai. He missed her. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and he found himself gripping the steering wheel even tighter. He missed her sharp wit, her infectious laugh, the way she could read him like an open book even when he was trying his damnedest to keep his walls up. He missed the warmth of her body next to his, the softness of her skin under his calloused hands.
He still didn't want to call her for help. The idea of her thinking he had an ulterior motive made his stomach churn, and his own feelings were still complicated. But the prospect of searching for his dad alone, especially now that it seemed like a more daunting task, was equally unappealing. And as far as good teams went… well, there was no denying how well they'd worked together. It was one of the things he lo – one of the things he appreciated so much about her.
Dean's eyes flicked to the passenger seat, now empty after dropping Sam off. The success of reaching out to his brother, despite their years of estrangement, gave him a small spark of hope. Maybe... maybe he could call Lorelai. Maybe it wouldn't be the disaster he was expecting it to be.
His hand twitched towards his phone, the urge to call nearly overwhelming, but he hesitated. It was late, he realized, and he had no idea where she might be. If she were in New York, it'd be even later for her. Frowning, he glanced at his watch… and that was when everything started to really fall apart.
The watch was frozen in place. It had been working on their drive to Sam's, he'd last checked it when Sam had been futzing around with the map, figuring out where the coordinates were. He tapped the face of the watch, but it remained stubbornly still.
A chill ran down Dean's spine. It wasn't irrefutable proof of anything sinister, but years of hunting had honed his instincts. Something felt off. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and without consciously deciding to, Dean found himself making a sharp U-turn, tires squealing against the asphalt as he headed back towards Sam's apartment.
The next hour was a complete blur, maybe even longer, Dean wasn't sure. His heart raced as he doubled back along the streets he'd just driven, knuckles white as he ripped the steering wheel. The calm night air seemed to mock the urgency building in his chest.
By the time he made it inside, smoke was already coming from the bedroom, and by the time he'd made it there, flames were already beginning to consume the room. It was far too late for Jess, and Sam was too shocked to think much of his own well-being.
Dean had a whole new appreciation for what his dad had witnessed all those years ago. He'd thought he understood, but standing in the doorframe, he realized no amount of talking about it could have prepared him, and the pieces of the night he'd witnessed, traumatic as they were, paled in comparison.
His heart broke for his brother, for Jess. Fear gripped at him, telling him he needed to get Sam out or they were both toast.
It wasn't until later, after they were outside, with the fire trucks and surrounded by the gawkers that the rest of Dean's thoughts started to catch up with him.
There was no doubt in his mind that whatever had killed his mother had just killed Jess too. He didn't believe in coincidence, and he certainly didn't believe in coincidence of that scale. So the only conclusion he could draw was that after twenty-two years of no leads and dead ends, whatever this thing was had decided to rear it's ugly head again. And it had gone straight for yet another woman involved with a Winchester.
Suddenly, Dean was glad he hadn't called Lorelai. He'd been the first one to tell Sam, when his brother was feeling particularly pessimistic, that their family wasn't cursed. Dean still wasn't sure that they were. But cursed or not, it was a pattern that made Dean entirely too uncomfortable, and the idea of putting a target on Lorelai's back… he didn't care how tough or capable she was. Willingly putting her in harm's way was out of the question.
And it only took one look at Sam to find a different appreciation for the grief he'd heard both his father and Lorelai describe. The grief that came with losing someone you love that way. He still remembered how it had felt that day with Lorelai out by the lake, when he'd thought he'd lost her. When he'd told her that last morning they were together that it didn't matter what she called their relationship or what happened next, that if something happened to her he'd be wrecked, he'd meant it.
Turning away from the building, Dean slowly made his way over to the Impala. The trunk was open, Sam was standing in front of it, head down. Dean wanted to say something but he knew there were no words for what had just happened. Sam was loading a shotgun but met his gaze, his eyes red-rimmed but dry, his face set in anger and heartbreak. There was an understanding that passed between them, dark and heavy.
Lorelai's face flashed in Dean's mind - her bright smile, her fierce determination, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed. For a moment, Dean let himself imagine a different life, one where he could have both the hunt and the girl. But as Sam tossed the shotgun into the trunk with a resolute thud, that fantasy crumbled.
"We got work to do," Sam said, his voice rough but steady.
Dean nodded, a mixture of determination and regret settling in his gut while Sam closed the trunk with a sense of finality. And as he watched Sam, Dean made a silent vow. He would keep Lorelai safe the only way he knew how - by staying far away from her. Lorelai was better off without him, safer without him. He would leave her alone, let her live the life she deserved - one free from the darkness that seemed to follow the Winchesters wherever they went.
He had a job to do, a brother to look after, a father to find, and a monster to hunt. There was no room for anything else anyway.
Thank you all for reading, and for all your reviews, you guys are amazing! Hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint.
As a side note, obviously I used a lot of dialogue from the show in this chapter - I won't say I'll never do that again, because there are points in this story where it fits and it's relevant, but that's not my norm/what this story's going to turn into, and hopefully it didn't come across as a copy and paste of the episode. This was a case where it felt like it fit, and I was interested in maintaining what happened while exploring what might have been going on in Dean's head.
See you next week 😊