May 9th-10th, 2006
After only being able to sleep in fits and spurts for the better part of a week, the days were starting to blur, bleeding into each other without clear beginnings and endings. No matter how hard she racked her brain, Lorelai couldn't quite remember if it were Tuesday or Wednesday – a realization that struck her in a few ways. It didn't feel like last week that she'd been back in London, catching up with family and friends, maybe not feeling particularly fantastic about the state of her life but at least feeling normal. It felt like a fucking lifetime ago.
In all honesty, Lorelai realized she was struggling to remember what it felt like to just exist without the pain that had ranged from a constant dull ache at its best, and an all-consuming blinding inferno at its worst, or the demons and shadows that had become her constant companions, if only in her own skewed reality.
Sitting in Dean and Sam's room, however, about an hour after she'd followed Dean out of bed, Lorelai found herself feeling something she hadn't felt for quite some time. Something that her brain had long decided was generally too dangerous to allow.
Hope.
Despite her own uncharacteristic bout of optimism, the room was still tense, and Lorelai shifted on the bed, her hands wrapped firmly around the cup of coffee she'd just poured while Dean paced, hand covering his mouth as he processed everything and Sam eyed them both warily.
"So let me get this straight," Dean began after a moment, turning to his brother and stilling as he did. "This chick gets beaten and abused by her parents, forced into some… I don't know, magical conversion camp? Gets tortured by the clergy, until mommy dearest decides to just finish the job and take her out? And then once she's dead these… what did you call them? Vinda –"
"Vindicari," Lorelai and Sam offered at the same time.
"Vindicari decide it's worth their fucking time now that they can't actually do anything. So they go dig her up and move the body to protect her spirit? Even though anyone with half a fucking brain knows that the only way to prevent someone turning into a violent spirit is to salt and burn the bones."
"Yeah," Sam confirmed blandly with a nod of his head. "That's about the size of it, yeah."
Dean let out a frustrated sound, his hand spasming as if he were about to make some sort of gesture before he turned to Lorelai instead.
"And what did you say these assholes were? Some kind of, what? Magical Nazis?"
Lorelai shrugged and sipped at her coffee, turning the phrase over in her head.
"They were an extremist group that believed in total separation from the non-magical community barring annihilation of non-magical persons. They weren't the first, certainly weren't the last, and definitely not the worst. Especially back then. There was a lot of anger over the witch trials and the imposition of the Statute of Secrecy. It was –"
But Dean was done listening, waving a dismissive hand in her direction in time to resume his pacing. She and Sam shared a look, Sam subtly shaking his head before they both turned their attention back to Dean.
Sam had been ready to burst by the time she and Dean had made their way back to him that morning. On a whim she had reached out to Nick a few days before asking him to send whatever records MACUSA had on the history of the area. She hadn't been expecting much – not only had Marietta Kedward been born and raised by Muggles, but she'd died before MACUSA had even formed.
So even when the records arrived, she'd pushed herself to continue using the limited cognitive abilities she had left focusing on the historical records Sam and Dean had dug up, figuring that was her best shot. Lucky for her, Sam hadn't been as presumptive.
If this case had taught her anything, it was that perhaps she'd become too trusting of her instincts and gut reactions. After all, it was impossible not to want to kick herself for being stupid enough to put the locket on in the first place. In the moment she hadn't thought anything of it – how long had they each worn the goddamn Horcrux around their necks without issue? Aside from Ron's temperament. And, of course, she'd been so confident that destroying the cursed object would take care of any potential fallout, she hadn't so much as paused to consider what the consequences would be if it didn't.
Cocky. Arrogant.
They were criticisms she'd heard leveled in her direction for some time. Criticisms Lorelai had staunchly denied as instinctively as breathing. There was a small part of her that thought she might reconsider if she lived to have the chance.
"And you think you figured out where they reburied the girl?"
Dean's voice broke through Lorelai's thoughts, and she let her eyes dart between him and Sam. The younger Winchester nodded, pushing papers across the table in Dean's direction, jabbing a finger at something Lorelai couldn't see from where she was sitting.
"Pretty sure. Should be in this general area. Old Charles Town. It's about three hours from here."
Dean cursed and ran a hand down his face again, his feet resuming their efforts to wear a hole in the threadbare carpet.
While she and Dean had been getting…reacquainted, Sam had stayed up, combing through the records she'd hardly glanced at, finally uncovering the reason a simple gravesite had been so hard to find.
They hadn't been able to find Marietta Kedward in Kinston because she hadn't been there since 1696 when the Vindicari, a group of anti-Muggle extremists that had been wiped out by 1713, had come to town, burned the Church her family had belonged to along with many of its members to dust, and absconded with the body. MACUSA, in its infancy but established by then, had dispatched Obliviators immediately, leaving no record of the incident to be found in any of the records she'd been scouring the last few days with the Winchesters.
When Sam had revealed he'd found Marietta's original resting place, and that it had been one of the places Dean had checked out on day one, Lorelai had nearly expected him to hurl one of the books they'd been all but glued to through the window in a fit of rage. He'd managed to contain it to a rather loud exclamation of 'son of a bitch', accompanied by a particularly hard kick at one of the chairs, but just barely.
"Since when do you mind a bit of a drive?" Lorelai challenged. Dean shot her a look that was a mix of skepticism and annoyance; one she met with her own quizzical stare.
"It's not the drive I mind, sweetheart. It's the fact that your clock's almost up and it's time we don't have. Not to mention, we aren't even sure burnin' the damn bones will do the trick."
"Uh, guys –"
"So dramatic," she quipped, feigning a nonchalance she hadn't actually felt in days. Dean's eye brows shot up, the corners of his mouth twitching down.
"Dramatic? Lorelai, this ain't a joke! If we're wrong –"
"So let's hope we're not wrong."
"Guys –" Sam tried again, but Dean was too busy staring back at her in disbelief to notice.
"That's your answer? Let's hope?"
"You got a better one?"
"Guys!"
That time Sam got both their attention, and as if on cue, she and Dean turned to look at him.
"What?"
Sam looked between them uncomfortably before pulling another packet from the mess of papers spread out on the table, this time holding it and looking to Lorelai instead of pushing it towards Dean.
"It's not just the drive that's gonna be a problem. These guys may have been wiped off the map, but these reports say the protective enchantments they put up are still being maintained. Something about no-maj security measures? I don't think Dean and I are gonna be able to get there," he explained reluctantly, finally offering her the pages in his hand.
Lorelai sighed and accepted them, ignoring the soft curse Dean muttered under his breath and instead letting her eyes skim over the information Sam had highlighted. It made sense – abandoned or not, there would be things in the area that would risk breaching the Statute of Secrecy, and even the current, more lenient administration wouldn't risk that. Thankfully, because it was so long abandoned, the charms listed weren't particularly strong.
"Well, that's just great," Dean was complaining. "It's the ele –"
"These shouldn't be a problem," Lorelai cut over him, and in doing so drew skeptical looks from both of the brothers.
"What do you mean?" Dean finally asked as Lorelai handed Sam the report back. She shrugged and sipped at her coffee.
"I mean these shouldn't be a problem." There was a small part of her that couldn't help but be at least a bit amused, watching Dean get so wound up. It was the part of her she was pretty sure was going to hell one day.
"Oh no? Because last I checked, Sam and I don't have magic, yours is on hiatus –"
"Just because I can't use it right now doesn't mean Muggle repelling charms would work on me," she pointed out automatically before realizing her audience likely wouldn't understand nor care about the technicality. Dean opened his mouth, but Lorelai shook her head and continued on before he could speak. "Anyway, that's not the point. These enchantments are pretty basic, I can break you through them. Hang on."
On instinct, she reached for her wand before realizing the effort would be completely useless. Catching herself, she huffed and pushed to her feet, heading for the door and ignoring the somewhat confused looks the brothers exchanged.
"You okay?" Sam called after her. Lorelai grumbled something back before slipping through the door and quickly trudging back towards her own room.
She returned about a minute later, throwing her bag onto the bed and beginning to shuffle through it. Her frustration at not being able to just use a summoning charm continued to mount as she kept grasping at the wrong things until finally her fingers came into contact with the drawstring pouch she'd been searching for.
"Aha!"
"Lor, what are –"
But instead of listening to or answering the question, Lorelai fumbled with the tie, reached in, and finally withdrew her hand, presenting it to them with a flourish, two identical pendants, runes etched deep in their surface, dangling from the cords she'd looped around her fingers.
"If you two wear these, they should counteract the charms placed on the area, and you should be able to see what's really there," she explained. There was a moment of hesitation, but then Sam lent forward, slipping one of the cords off her finger and taking it into his own hands. Dean followed suit, a somewhat wary expression on his face, while Sam squinted and brought the pendant close to his face for examination.
"What're these?" he asked, studying the markings. Lorelai tucked her hair behind her ear and settled back onto the bed, reaching back for her coffee.
"Runes. Done right, they can be more effective than spellwork for certain use cases… definitely longer lasting."
Sam leaned forward, his eyes alight with curiosity, reminding Lorelai of the fifteen-year-old she'd met all those years ago.
"That's fascinating," he murmured, tracing the etchings with his fingertip. "How do you have to etch them? I mean if someone like me or Dean were to try the same thing –"
"Sam? We're on a bit of a time crunch here. How 'bout we stow the magic lesson for later?" Dean interjected, and Sam looked up, seeming to remember his surroundings and nodded, slightly sheepish look on his face.
"Right, yeah. Sorry."
Lorelai watched, hiding her smirk behind the coffee cup as she took another sip. Dean, who looked ready to bust, frowned at pendant still in his hand and then looked to her with a furrowed brow. Unlike his younger brother, he didn't seem particularly interested in the intricacies of how it worked. One of the nagging voices in her head, one that Lorelai reluctantly had to admit she wasn't sure whether was genuinely hers or thanks to the curse, pointed out that whatever had happened between them the night before, his body language didn't exactly scream that he was much more comfortable with the witch thing than he'd been in September.
"So, bottom line – these'll get us where we need to go to find the bones?" he asked, drawing her from her thoughts before the spiral of doubt could really take hold. Lorelai nodded, her own expression turning serious.
"Yes. They should negate the Muggle-repelling charms in the area. You'll be able to see what's really there, same as any witch or wizard."
"Good enough for me," Dean grunted, slipping the cord over his head. The pendant settled against his chest, next to the brass one that kept seemingly permanent residence. Lorelai felt a pang of… something. Nostalgia, maybe? Or longing? She wasn't sure, but she quickly pushed whatever the feeling was aside. There were more important things to focus on.
Sam was still examining the pendant in his hand, a thoughtful look on his face, and Lorelai could practically see the gears turning.
"What about other protections? Curses, traps, that sort of thing?"
Lorelai began to shake her head, but paused, a frown forming on her face. She'd just been contemplating the fact that she needed to stop firing from the hip so quickly. Dean clocked all of it and raised a prodding eyebrow in her direction, and she sighed.
"I don't think you need to worry. The cemetery there itself was nothing special, and the Vindicari would have been satisfied with their Muggle-repelling measures to protect their town – they weren't trying to keep everyone out, just…"
"People like us?" Sam supplied when she trailed off, and Lorelai winced but nodded.
"Yeah. But I don't know for sure. Just because it's unlikely doesn't mean its impossible."
"Great," Dean scoffed. "Lor, I know you don't like sittin' stuff out but you know you gotta –"
"Stay here," she finished for him, earning a look of surprise. "I know. I don't like it, but I know. Just… call me if you see anything weird. I might not be much help right now, but at least I'll probably know what you're dealing with."
A look of relief passed over Dean's face, even if it was tinged with surprise. She wanted to go with them, hated the idea of letting them clean up this mess she'd gotten herself into, but there was no argument to be made. Despite the temporary relief she'd felt through the night, wrapped in Dean's arms, it was already waning. The hallucinations were only coming in flashes, sometimes she found herself nearly jumping just at the suddenness of them, but they were back nonetheless, and the whispers were starting to build once more at the back of her mind.
"We can do that," Sam agreed. Dean shot him a look, but Sam ignored him and slipped his own pendant over his neck. "We should get going though, it's about a three hour drive."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, but then Sam and Dean began gathering their supplies while Lorelai watched them, a growing sense of unease building in her chest. She drifted to the table, thumbing through the pages spread over it. Quietly, she scanned through them and made three piles. A few minutes later, she slipped two of them to Sam, pulling a book out of her bag and adding it to the package.
"That's everything in the MACUSA reports about the Vindicari, and that's everything about the protective enchantments on the area," she explained. "The book has some of the magical theory you were asking about, with the runes, if you're curious."
It was a small gesture, next to meaningless, but it was the most useful thing she could think to do in that moment, and Sam at least gave her an appreciative look as he took the items out of her hands.
"Thanks, Lorelai. I'll go through this in the car."
"You can call if you have any questions."
Too soon they were ready to go, Sam standing by the door and Dean standing in front of her while she fidgeted awkwardly, suddenly unsure what to do with her limbs. She could see the tension in his body and it wasn't hard to understand why.
There was no guarantee that they were going to find Marietta Kedward's bones in Old Charles Town. There was no guarantee that burning the bones would save Lorelai if they did – destroying the locket certainly hadn't. And if they were wrong about this… well… feeling a little better or not, they all knew her time was running up.
"Stay put, alright? Sam and I'll be back soon as we can," Dean told her, and Lorelai huffed back on autopilot.
"Don't go telling me what to do, you know I hate that." Dean rolled his eyes with an exasperated fondness and took a step closer.
"I'm serious, Lor," he told her, dropping his voice a bit, though Lorelai had no illusions – Sam could absolutely still hear them. "Promise me that no matter what happens, no matter what crazy crap you think you're seeing or hearing, you'll stay here."
Lorelai recognized the very real fear in his eyes, and instead of replying with her normal brand of quip, she simply bit her bottom lip and nodded, holding his gaze steadily.
"Promise," she agreed. Some of the tension melted from his shoulders and he hesitated for just a moment, his eyes flickering to Sam before returning to her. Then, seemingly making up his mind, he closed the remaining distance between them in one quick stride. His hand cupped the back of her head, warm and familiar, as he pulled her into a kiss, deep and lingering.
Lorelai melted into the embrace, her hands fisting in the front of Dean's shirt. For a moment, the world fell away, and it was just the two of them. All the fear, the uncertainty, the unresolved tension between them - it all faded into the background.
When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Dean rested his forehead against hers. "We'll be back before you know it," he murmured, his voice low and intense. "Just hang in there, okay?"
Lorelai nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Dean pressed one last, quick kiss to her lips before stepping back, his expression shifting back to determined hunter mode.
"Alright, Sammy," he called, grabbing his keys. "Let's hit the road."
As the door closed behind the Winchester brothers, Lorelai felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She sank down onto the bed, her head in her hands, and tried to ignore the growing dread in the pit of her stomach. It was going to be a long day, and all she could hope was that it wouldn't be her last.
Outside, Dean settled behind the wheel of the Impala, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Sam slid into the passenger seat, the papers and book Lorelai had given him balanced on his lap. As they pulled out of the motel parking lot he glanced over towards Dean.
"So," he began, the amusement in his voice poorly hidden, "you and Lorelai, yeah? Couldn't help but notice you didn't make it back to the room last night. And just then back in –"
Dean's jaw clenched, his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead. This was the last conversation he wanted to have right now.
"Not now, Sam," he warned. But Sam, perpetually unable to back down easily, pressed on.
"I'm just saying, it's nice to see you two working things out."
"Yeah well, we'll be working things out till we're dead," he quipped sarcastically, only to feel like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on his head as the words hit him and the reality of their situation re-registered. Lorelai's time was running up, and if this trip was a bust…
"Dean?" Sam seemed to have noticed the shift in Dean's mood, and the amused tone had been traded for one carrying concern.
"I'm fine," Dean grunted, staring determinedly out at the asphalt stretching ahead of them and trying not to grind his teeth. The rumble of the engine was soothing, a familiar comfort he tried to focus on, but it still did little to ease the tension coiling in his muscles or the pit that had formed in his stomach. Sam shifted in his seat, the papers in his lap rustling as he repositioned himself.
"Look, man, I know you're worried about Lorelai. We both are. But we're gonna figure this out, okay?"
Dean didn't respond, couldn't respond… so he nodded and without really thinking reached for the radio, turning the volume up a bit. And when Kashmir faded out and Gimme Shelter began to ring through next, Dean bit the inside of his cheek, absolutely refusing to do anything but keep a straight face.
As he drove the sun was climbing higher in the sky, the bright light and clear skies a sharp contrast to the turmoil churning inside him. The fields and farmland blurred past, and Dean was happy to lose himself in the monotony for a bit while Sam continued to shuffle through the materials from Lorelai.
Eventually, Sam sighed and picked his head back up. From the corner of his eye Dean could see his brother looking in his direction and quirked an eyebrow, silently begging the question what.
"These Vindicari guys were seriously bad news," Sam began, his voice taking on that familiar tone he used when diving into research. "According to these reports, they believed in total separation from non-magical people, even going so far as to advocate for their elimination."
Dean's brow furrowed, his mind momentarily distracted from thoughts of Lorelai sitting back at the motel. It hadn't really sunk in before, when he'd still been trying to process the initial information Sam had given him and Lorelai about Marietta's body having been moved, but now he remembered Lorelai had been saying something along those lines when he'd cut her off. Unpleasant thoughts tugged at the corners of his mind… passages from the books Bobby had given him. Passages about the war Lorelai had fought in... and Death Eaters he thought he remembered.
He'd made peace by then with the fact that, despite the huge secret she'd been keeping, Lorelai was still the woman he'd fallen for. As she'd told him that day, she was still her… still the person he'd gotten to know, and even without the knowledge of her involvement in the war, he'd known she was good.
Her family too. He was willing to concede that. He suspected her friends as well, though he hadn't them… and as far as he could tell, really, there were plenty of good witches and wizards in her world.
But there was no denying there was a sinister part to her world as well. One that made him deeply uncomfortable.
"Elimination?" Dean asked even though he already suspected the answer. Sam nodded, a grim expression on his face.
"Pretty much. They saw anyone without magic as a threat to their way of life – including kids born to magical parents without any magic of their own. The reports talk about raids on non-magical communities, kidnappings… even murders. They wanted retribution for the witch trials."
"Jesus," he muttered, a chill running down his spine. "And these assholes are the ones who moved Marietta's body?"
"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "Looks like thy saw her as some sort of martyr… or at least an example of why no-majs are so dangers. A witch, born to and persecuted by non-magicals, killed by her own family for her abilities? Like Lorelai said, they burned that whole church to the ground when they got her. Seems like these guys were big on retribution. That, and using Marietta to rally around the cause seem to be why they did it."
If possible, Dean's grip on the steering wheel tightened further. The idea that there were people out there who hated him simply for being born without magic... it was a lot to process. He'd spent his whole life hunting the supernatural, protecting people from the things that went bump in the night. To think that there was an entire hidden world out there, filled with people who might view him as less than human... it made his skin crawl.
"That's messed up, man," Dean muttered, shaking his head. "I mean, we've seen some crazy shit, but this... this is a whole other level." Sam nodded grimly in agreement.
He unwittingly thought of Lorelai, and the fact that she'd hidden what she was from him the entire length of time they were involved. He was still pissed, but at least in this moment, he felt sick realizing she'd been worried he'd see her as less than human, the same way these Vindicari, and the Death Eaters saw him.
A worry he'd only validated reacting the way he had.
"Yeah, it is," Sam said, interrupting Dean's train of thought. "But these guys are long gone and at least we know where she is now. Last laugh's on them I guess, seeing as our job is to save a witch."
Dean took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Sam was right. They had a job to do, and Lorelai was counting on them. Everything else – the anger, the confusion, the hurt, the self-loathing – it could all wait.
Sam moved from reading through the papers to cracking the spine of the book Lorelai had handed him, and silence fell between them once more, leaving Dean to the sounds of the engine, the music, and his thoughts. Despite his best attempts, his mind kept drifting back to Lorelai, alone in that motel room. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard, willing the minutes to tick by faster.
It was about an hour and a half in when Sam's voice cut through the fog, mercifully suggesting the one thing he'd wanted for at least the half hour but unwilling to allow himself.
"Hey, maybe we should check in on Lorelai? It's been a while, and I've got a few questions about some of this stuff anyway."
Dean hesitated for a moment, determined not to sound as eager as he felt, before nodding.
"Yeah, alright. But put it on speaker."
Sam pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts before hitting call. The sound of ringing filled the car while Dean adjusted the radio volume back down, each tone ratcheting up the tension in Dean's shoulders. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lorelai's voice came through the speaker.
"Hello?" She sounded tired, her voice slightly hoarse.
"Hey, Lorelai," Sam greeted, his tone deliberately light. "Just wanted to check in, see how you're doing. And, uh, I had a few questions about some of this stuff you gave me to read if you're up for it."
There was a pause, and Dean could almost picture Lorelai forcing a smile onto her face. "I'm fine, Sam. What d'you got?"
As Sam launched into his questions, Dean listened intently, trying to pick up on any signs that Lorelai might be worse than she was letting on. Her responses were clear and coherent, but there was an undercurrent of strain in her voice that set Dean's teeth on edge.
"That make sense?" Lorelai asked after explaining something about the intricacies of runic magic Dean hadn't been paying attention to.
"Yeah, thanks," Sam replied. "So, uh, how are you really doing? Any changes?"
There was another pause, longer this time. When Lorelai spoke again, her voice was quieter. "I'm... fine. The hallucinations are back, but they're not as intense as before. And the voices... they're getting louder, but I'm keeping my wits about me."
Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He wanted nothing more than to turn the car around, to go back and wrap Lorelai in his arms, to shield her from whatever horrors she was facing. But he knew that wouldn't help. The only way to save her was to keep going, to find Marietta's bones and put an end to this curse once and for all. He just hoped that they were right and that this would work.
"We're making good time," Dean said, speaking up for the first time since the call began. "Should be there in about an hour, hour and a half tops. Just hang in there, Lor. You're gonna be fine."
He needed her to be fine. The alternative wasn't an option.
"I know," Lorelai replied, her voice soft. "Just... be careful, okay? Both of you."
"Always are," Dean assured her, though they all knew it was a lie. "We'll call you if there's any issues."
After they hung up, silence fell over the car once more. Dean's foot pressed harder on the accelerator, urging the Impala to eat up the miles faster. Beside him, Sam returned to his reading, occasionally muttering to himself as he made notes.
The landscape outside the windows blurred as they sped down the highway, the lush greenery of South Carolina giving way to more rural surroundings. As they neared their destination, Dean could feel a palpable shift in the air. It was subtle at first – a slight heaviness, like the air before a thunderstorm. But as they got closer to Old Charles Town, the feeling intensified.
"You feel that?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam. His brother nodded, his expression grim.
"Yeah. Maybe we're hitting the protective enchantments Lorelai mentioned? We're close, it would make sense."
Dean's hand unconsciously went to the pendant around his neck, his fingers tracing the etched runes. He'd seen a lot of weird crap in his life, dealt with all manner of supernatural creatures and curses. But this... this was different. This was stepping into a world that, up until a few months ago, he hadn't even known existed.
As they approached the outskirts of what used to be Old Charles Town, Dean slowed the Impala. The road ahead looked normal enough – overgrown and neglected, but still visible. Yet there was something... off about it. Like looking at a painting where the perspective was just slightly wrong.
"This is it," Sam said, his voice low. "According to the map, the cemetery should be about half a mile ahead, just past what used to be the town square."
Dean nodded, easing the car forward. As they crossed what must have been the boundary of the old town, he felt a strange tingling sensation wash over him. It wasn't painful, just... weird. Like walking through a spider web you couldn't see.
The ruins of Old Charles Town slowly came into view. Crumbling stone foundations peeked out from beneath overgrown vegetation, the skeletal remains of long-abandoned buildings reaching towards the sky like gnarled fingers. The air felt heavy and still, as if the very atmosphere was pressing down on them.
Dean parked the Impala at what appeared to be the edge of the old town square. As he and Sam climbed out of the car, the silence hit him like a physical force. There were no birds singing, no insects buzzing. Even the wind seemed to have died down, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake.
"Well, this isn't creepy at all," Dean muttered, reaching into the trunk to grab their gear. Shovels, salt, lighter fluid, matches – the usual tools of their trade. He tossed a shotgun to Sam, who caught it deftly.
"Yeah," Sam agreed, his eyes scanning their surroundings warily. "Let's find this cemetery and get out of here. This place gives me the creeps."
They set off in the direction Sam had indicated, picking their way carefully through the overgrown ruins. Every step felt like a violation, as if they were trespassing in a place that didn't want them there. Dean couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, even though he knew logically that the town had been abandoned for centuries.
As they neared the cemetery, the air grew colder. Dean's breath fogged in front of him, despite the warm spring day they'd left behind at the motel. He tightened his grip on his shotgun, the hairs on the back of his neck coming to stand while every sense was on high alert.
The cemetery, when they finally reached it, was a sorry sight. Ancient headstones, many of them cracked or toppled, poked out of the overgrown grass like crooked teeth. At the center stood a large stone mausoleum, its once-grand façade now crumbling and covered in moss.
"Alright," Dean said, his voice low. "Let's start looking. Keep an eye out for anything that might be Marietta's grave."
They split up, each taking a section of the cemetery. Dean moved carefully between the graves, squinting to read the faded inscriptions on the headstones. Most were in Latin, which didn't help matters. He was about to call out to Sam to see if he'd had any luck when a sudden chill ran down his spine.
Dean spun around, shotgun raised, just in time to see a flickering figure materialize near the mausoleum. It was a young girl, her face contorted in a mixture of pain and rage. She wore old-fashioned clothing, torn and bloodstained, and her eyes... her eyes were terrifying. There was a wild look in them, inhuman almost, pupils dilated leaving no color behind but black, the whites of her eyes totally bloodshot. The cherry on top of the fodder for his nightmares were the claw marks marring the skin around them, as if she'd at one point tried to scratch them out… Dean guessed in an attempt to rid herself of the same gruesome imagery that had been plaguing Lorelai for the past week.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, already moving to put himself between his brother and the apparition. "We've got company!"
The spirit – Marietta, it had to be, he was sure – let out an unearthly shriek. The sound reverberated through the cemetery, making Dean's teeth ache. He fired off a round of rock salt, watching with grim satisfaction as the spirit dissipated.
The victory was short-lived, however. Almost immediately, Marietta reappeared, this time right in front of him. Before Dean could react, he felt an icy grip around his throat, lifting him off his feet. He gasped for air, struggling against the spirit's supernatural strength.
"Dean!" Sam's voice sounded far away. Through the spots dancing in his vision, Dean saw his brother racing towards him, shotgun raised. Another blast of rock salt, and suddenly Dean was falling. He hit the ground hard, coughing and gasping for air. Sam was at his side in an instant, helping him to his feet.
"You okay?" Sam asked, his eyes darting around for any sign of the spirit's return. Dean nodded, still trying to catch his breath.
"Yeah," he wheezed. "Peachy. Let's find this bitch's bones and torch 'em before she comes back for round two."
They moved quickly after that, checking every grave with renewed urgency. It was Sam who finally found it – a small, unassuming headstone tucked away in a corner of the cemetery. The inscription was worn almost smooth, but Dean could just make out the name: Marietta Kedward.
"This is it," Sam said, already reaching for the shovel. "Let's do this."
Dean grabbed the salt and walked the perimeter of the grave, shaking out a generous amount. He knew it wouldn't hold forever, but after their first encounter, he figured any time he could buy would be good. And then he joined Sam digging, working as quickly as they could. The air around them seemed to grow colder with each shovelful of dirt, and more than once Dean caught glimpses of Marietta's spirit flickering at the edges of his vision.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably closer to one, Dean's shovel hit something solid. They quickly cleared away the remaining dirt, revealing a simple wooden coffin, weathered by time but still intact.
"Alright," Dean said, climbing out of the grave. "Let's finish this."
But before they could reach for the salt and lighter fluid, a piercing scream filled the air, and the wind suddenly picked up strongly enough to blow a combination of dirt and salt in their faces.
Dean was still blinking the debris out of his eyes when Marietta's spirit materialized between them and the grave, her face twisted in fury. With a wave of her hand, she sent Sam flying, his body crashing into a nearby headstone with a sickening thud.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, but he had no time to check on his brother. Marietta was advancing on him, her wide, bloodshot eyes fixed on his face with murderous intent.
Dean fired off another round of rock salt, but this time the spirit barely flinched. She raised her hand again, and Dean felt himself being lifted off his feet. He struggled against her invisible grip, his lungs burning as the air was forced from them.
Through the haze of pain and oxygen deprivation, Dean saw Sam stirring. His brother looked dazed, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead, but he was moving. Their eyes met, and Dean saw the moment Sam understood what needed to be done.
As Marietta's icy fingers closed around Dean's throat once more, he saw Sam lunge for the duffel bag. In one fluid motion, his brother poured salt and lighter fluid into the open grave. Dean's vision was starting to go dark around the edges when he heard the distinctive scrape of a match being struck.
The spirit's scream of rage turned to one of agony as flames erupted from the grave. Dean felt the heat as he fell, gasping for air as he hit the ground. Through watering eyes, he watched as Marietta's spirit writhed, consumed by ethereal flames, before vanishing in a burst of light. And for a moment, the only sound was the crackling of flames and Dean's ragged breathing. Then Sam was at his side, helping him sit up.
"You okay?" Sam asked, his voice laced with concern. Dean nodded, still struggling to catch his breath.
"Yeah," he managed. "You?" Sam touched the cut on his forehead, wincing slightly.
"I'll live. You think that did it? The curse is broken?"
Dean was already fumbling for his phone, his fingers shaking slightly as he searched for Lorelai's number. The phone rang once, twice, and Dean felt his heart constricting with each unanswered sound. Finally, on the fourth ring, Lorelai's voice came through.
"Dean?" She sounded breathless, almost surprised.
"Lor," Dean said, relief flooding through him. "Are you okay? Did it work?"
There was a pause, and Dean could hear Lorelai taking a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier… cautious, but lighter.
"Yeah, I think it did. The voices, the visions… they're gone."
Dean sagged in relief and let out a shaky laugh, the tension of the past few days finally starting to ease.
"Thank God," he breathed. "We're on our way back. Just… just hang tight, okay?"
"Okay," Lorelai agreed, and Dean could hear the smile in her voice. "And Dean? Thank you. Both of you."
As Dean hung up, he caught Sam watching him, a knowing smile on his face. "She okay?"
Dean nodded, unable to keep the relief from his expression. "Yeah, she's okay. It worked."
As he pocketed the phone and finally climbed back to his feet, Dean let out a long breath, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He looked around the cemetery, at the smoldering remains of Marietta's grave, at the crumbling reminders of a world that sought to exclude people like him and Sam.
"Come on," he grunted, starting to gather up their stuff. "Let's get out of here. I've had enough of this magical crap for one day."
When they climbed into the car a few minutes later the air between them felt lighter, though Dean found a different kind of anxiety blooming in his chest as he navigated them back to the highway that would lead them back to Lorelai.
They still had a lot to figure out, and it would have felt naïve to let himself think it would be easy. He hoped, though, that maybe they could do it. There were a million reasons why it was a bad idea… ways it could go wrong, differences he wasn't sure they'd be able to get past… but he didn't want to go back to what the last eight months had been. He only hoped she didn't want to either.
"God there has got to be a better way to dig graves," Sam complained later that night as they both climbed out of the Impala. Dean stretched, his muscles aching faintly after the activities of the day, and surveyed his little brother with a smirk. He'd gotten dirty too, sure, but Sam had definitely taken the brunt of this one.
"You're so delicate," he teased, earning himself an eyeroll.
Dean slammed the car door shut, while Sam pulled out their room key, and they turned towards the bank of doors. With the clock done ticking, they'd been less rushed coming back. There'd been a stop for gas, another for dinner at a diner they passed by, and the further they'd gotten from Old Charles Town, the lighter Dean had felt.
"Whatever man, I call dibs on the shower."
Dean had a half-formed retort about it being his right as the oldest, but his eyes caught the window a few doors down from theirs and whatever he'd been about to say died in his throat. The lights were on, and Lorelai's silhouette was just visible behind the drawn blinds.
"Yeah, you go ahead. I'll be there in a bit," he said distractedly instead. In his peripheral, Dean saw Sam's features morph from confusion to understanding when he followed Dean's gaze, and Dean bit down the aggravation at the overly interested look he ultimately received.
"You gonna pull your head out of your ass and tell her how you feel?" Dean shot Sam a withering look, the kind that usually at least put pause to Sam's prodding, but this time it had seemingly no effect.
"I didn't say anything about feelings. And I ain't having this argument with you again. I just wanna make sure she's alright. That is what we're here for after all, you know, to save her. Should make sure our efforts weren't for nothing." Sam looked unconvinced but for once didn't argue, and instead began walking backwards to their room. Dean supposed he should be grateful Sam didn't point out they already knew she was fine – if not from the first phone call, certainly from the second that he'd made before they left the diner to see if she wanted them to bring her back anything.
"Whatever, dude. You could do a lot worse than Lorelai Baudelaire. In fact, you regularly do."
Sam turned and dipped into their shared room before Dean could say anything, leaving him standing out on the sidewalk between the two rooms.
"Bitch," he found himself muttering as he ultimately turned and headed in the opposite direction. It wasn't because it was Lorelai, he reasoned with himself. This was just what he did – saving people, hunting things. Job wasn't done until he knew everyone was alright, so sue him for wanting to see it with his own eyes.
Dean knocked and stood outside Lorelai's motel room, suddenly feeling unsure of himself. The relief of knowing she was okay warred with the uncertainty of what came next, and the apprehension from earlier returned full force. He didn't have long to wallow in it though, as he heard footsteps almost immediately, and Lorelai was quickly pulling the door open.
The sight of her nearly took his breath away. She still looked tired, dark circles still lingering under her eyes, but the underlying fear and anxiety that had been etched into every line of her face and constantly brewing in her eyes were gone. In their place was a spark of life, a hint of the vibrant woman that had infiltrated his mind and stolen his heart the year before. Her movements, he noticed, seemed more natural too… less stiff.
"Dean!" she greeted, a genuine smile spreading across her face.
"Hey," Dean said, his voice gruffer than he intended. "Sam I just got back. Figured I'd check in, make sure you're really okay."
Lorelai's smile morphed into a smirk and she stepped back, opening the door a bit wider in invitation.
"I'm okay," she confirmed, stepping back to let him in. "Better than okay, actually. Come in."
As Dean entered the room, he was struck by how different it felt. It was cleaner, he thought, and the air seemed somehow lighter. Gone was the oppressive atmosphere of fear and desperation that had permeated the space just hours before, and glancing around he could see she'd fixed the damage he'd caused the door the day before, as well as the bathroom mirror. Magic, he assumed, which was more proof the last seventy-two hours were truly in the past.
"You've been busy," he remarked, raising an eyebrow. Lorelai's smile widened, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.
"My magic's back, look!" Her voice was filled with barely contained joy and Dean watched as she reached into her pocket, noting that the long sleeves she'd been sporting had been swapped out for a t-shirt and that the skin on her arm was back to normal – if he hadn't seen the deep, angry-looking gouges that had been there before with his own eyes he wouldn't have believed they existed in the first place.
She then withdrew the same stick-looking thing she'd wielded in September – her wand, he realized – and before Dean could react, Lorelai flicked her wrist. A shower of gold and red sparks erupted from its tip, dancing through the air like miniature fireworks before fading away. They were beautiful, mesmerizing even, but Dean felt his body tense involuntarily.
Intellectually, he knew Lorelai was a witch. He'd had months to come to terms with the fact, had spent more time than he cared to admit reading the stupid folder she'd left behind and the books Bobby had given him. But seeing it in person, watching her perform magic so casually, was still a shock to the system. Years of ingrained instincts warred with what he knew about Lorelai, about who she was.
Dean tried to school his features, to hide his discomfort, but Lorelai was too damn perceptive. The excitement in her eyes dimmed, her smile faltering. She quickly re-pocketed the wand, her movements almost apologetic, and Dean felt a pang of guilt. He didn't want to be the reason for that disappointment in her eyes, and he didn't want to like any of the assholes that had he'd spent the last few days mentally railing and cursing at.
"Sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to –"
"No, it's… it's fine," he told her, trying to sound more at ease than he felt. "I'm glad you're feeling better."
An awkward silence fell between them. Dean shifted his weight, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. Lorelai tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze darting around the room before settling back on him. Despite the tension, Dean found himself drawn to her. He took a step closer, pulled by some invisible force he couldn't quite name. Lorelai mirrored his movement, closing the distance between them.
"Dean," she started, her voice soft. "I... thank you. For everything. For coming when Katie called, for staying even when I was being stubborn. You and Sam saved my life."
Dean's hand came up to cup her cheek almost of its own accord.
"You don't have to thank me, Lor," he murmured. "I'll always come when you need me. I'm sorry I ever made you doubt that."
Their eyes met, and suddenly the air between them felt charged. Dean's gaze dropped to Lorelai's lips, and before he could overthink it, he was leaning in.
The first brush of their lips was hesitant, tentative. It was a question, an offering. Lorelai responded immediately, her hand coming up to grip the front of Dean's shirt as she pressed closer.
The kiss deepened, months of pent-up longing and unresolved tension pouring out. Dean's arm wrapped around Lorelai's waist, pulling her flush against him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, a soft sound escaping her throat that made Dean's blood sing.
They broke apart, both slightly breathless. Dean rested his forehead against Lorelai's once more, his eyes closed as he savored the moment.
"We should talk," Lorelai whispered, though she made no move to pull away.
"Yeah," Dean agreed, his voice rough. "We should."
But neither of them seemed inclined to start that conversation. Instead, Dean captured Lorelai's lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more passionate. She responded eagerly, her body melting against his.
They stumbled towards the bed, hands roaming, relearning each other's bodies. As they fell onto the mattress, Dean pulled back just enough to look at Lorelai. Her hair was mussed, her lips swollen from their kisses, and Dean fought back a surge of desire at the sight.
"You sure about this?" he asked, needing to hear her say it. Lorelai nodded, her eyes dark with desire.
"I'm sure," she breathed. "I want this. I want you."
That was all the encouragement Dean needed. He lowered his head, trailing kisses along Lorelai's jaw and down her neck. She arched into him, her hands slipping under his shirt to explore the warm skin of his back.
They took their time undressing each other, savoring each newly revealed inch of skin. It was different from the night before, when desperation and fear had driven them. This was slower, more deliberate. A rediscovery, a reaffirmation.
Dean worshipped Lorelai's body with his hands and mouth, drawing out every gasp and moan. He took his time seeking out the spots that made her shiver, the touches that made her breath catch. Lorelai was just as thorough in her exploration, her fingers tracing the planes of Dean's chest, her lips following the path of old scars. His own fingers sought out the jagged scar on her hip, the familiarity grounding him, reminding him this was real.
When they finally came together, it was with a sense of rightness, of coming home. Dean moved slowly, savoring every sensation. Lorelai met him thrust for thrust, her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.
They didn't speak, save for whispered names and soft encouragements. Neither of them, he thought, wanted to risk the fragile peace between them. But in the way Lorelai's fingers traced Dean's face, in the gentleness of his touch, in the way their eyes locked and held, plenty passed between them.
As they neared the edge, Dean's movements became more urgent. Lorelai clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders. When she came, it was with Dean's name on her lips. The sight of her, lost in pleasure, coupled with the clenching heat of her around him, was enough to send Dean over the edge with her.
They lay tangled together afterwards, Dean's arm wrapped around Lorelai's waist, her head pillowed on his chest. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with unspoken emotions.
Dean knew they still had a lot to figure out. There were conversations that needed to be had, issues that needed to be addressed. But for now, he was content to hold Lorelai close, to bask in the knowledge that she was safe, that she was here with him.
As sleep began to tug at him, Dean pressed a soft kiss to the top of Lorelai's head. Tomorrow, they would face reality. They would have to navigate the complexities of whatever this was between them, this thing that months apart had failed to derail. They'd have to see if there was a way of reconciling their very different worlds. But tonight, in this moment, Dean allowed himself to just be.
With that thought, Dean drifted off to sleep, Lorelai's steady breathing a comforting rhythm against his chest.
Of course, with his luck, the day anything went the way he expected would be the day he died.
Dean wasn't sure how much time had passed when he was jolted awake by some noise on the fringe of his consciousness, but it was still dark outside, and despite the fact that he'd been sleeping deeply – deeper than normal – he knew it hadn't been long enough.
The warmth of Lorelai's body pressed against him served as a comforting anchor, tempting to lull him back to sleep. And for a moment he allowed himself to bask in the peace of it all, savoring the gentle rise and fall of her chest and the soft tickle of her breath against his skin.
But the nagging sense that something had disturbed his sleep, something beyond his own imagination, wouldn't leave him. So he found his ears straining, trying to identify what had done it and wasn't disappointed when he heard a tapping sound.
For a moment, Dean thought it might be coming from inside his own head, a remnant of some half-remembered dream. But as his sense sharpened, he realized the noise was coming from outside the room.
Glancing down at Lorelai, still peacefully asleep beside him, Dean felt a twinge of regret. He'd give anything to stay in this moment, to pretend for just a little longer that the world outside didn't exist. But years of ingrained habits and the weight of responsibility wouldn't let him ignore the potential threat.
Carefully, he slipped out from under the covers, sighing in relief when Lorelai didn't stir, and began reaching for the clothes he'd discarded earlier. He had time to pull on his underwear, his mind still coming awake, and accidentally grabbed Lorelai's shirt before finding his own. He was still pulling it over his head as he made his way across the room, just in time for the frenzied tapping to start again. One glance through the peephole showed the familiar form of his little brother, and Dean rubbed at his eyes, feeling irritation at the interruption setting in.
"What the hell are you doing, man?" he hissed, swinging the door open. "It's the middle of the night. Lorelai's dead asl-"
"We have to go," Sam cut across him, unfazed by Dean's glare, and Dean frowned, noticing Sam's panic-stricken features for the first time, even as he felt his own confusion growing.
"What's happening?" he asked, suddenly more alert. Behind him, he heard Lorelai stir ever so slightly and he quickly moved just outside the room, gently pulling the door nearly shut behind him in an attempt not to disturb her any further. Upon crossing the threshold, he noticed Sam had two packed bags by his feet, and Dean resisted the urge to groan.
"We have to go. Right now."
"Damn it, Sam. I'm kind of in the –"
"Dean, I had another dream, we have to go."
The words hit like a physical blow and Dean felt a small amount of fear started to flood his body, leaving him feeling torn. He wanted to tell his brother he was being as ridiculous as he sounded, that there was no way they were driving off to God-knows-where based on a random nightmare. But memories of Lawrence made that harder to do, and looking at Sam, Dean doubted he'd hear it anyway.
"Give me a minute," he relented. Sam looked minorly relieved, and his eyes widened, darting towards the curtained window into the room.
"You going to bring Lorelai?" he asked hopefully. The question caught him off guard, but without even thinking about it, Dean found his head whipping around and the glare on his face deepening.
"Fuck no!" he hissed. "We just pulled her ass out of the fire! I'm not bringing her into whatever the hell is going on with these vision-dream-whatevers of yours." Sam met his eyes but frowned, a contemplative look on his face.
"Even you said she's a good hunter –"
Dean rolled his eyes, trying not to snap the way he wanted to. He knew Sam meant well, but the idea of dragging Lorelai into another potentially dangerous situation so soon after nearly losing her made his chest tight with anxiety.
"That doesn't mean –"
"And we don't know what this is," Sam continued as if Dean hadn't spoken, "She's a witch, she might know something or be able to figure something out that we ca-"
"No!" Dean cut across him firmly. Sam looked like he wanted to argue further, but Dean slipped back inside the room before he could do so and closed the door swiftly.
Padding back over to the bed, he was both relieved and sad to see that Lorelai was still sleeping soundly, although in his absences she'd wrapped herself around his pillow. She was still naked under the thin blanket – Dean was happy to see her coloring already looked back to normal – and her dark hair was fanned across the pillows in a beautiful mess.
His eyes caught on her wand, still on the nightstand, easily within her arm's reach, between an empty water bottle and her phone. Its presence was still jarring, a tangible reminder of the vast differences between their worlds. But as he looked at it now, Dean felt a strange mix of emotions. Fear and distrust, yes - ingrained responses he wasn't sure he'd ever fully shake. But also a grudging respect for the power it represented, and the way Lorelai wielded that power to protect others. He didn't have time to dwell, though, and so he shook the thoughts off and silently gathered up the rest of his clothes, pulling them on as he went. Fully dressed, he then stood over her, hesitating.
It felt wrong, leaving her like this. They hadn't resolved anything, aside from some pent-up frustration. He was still angry, and upset. He still had questions. He still had a lot to say to her. But despite all that, being there with her… it had been the thing he'd wanted and been denying himself for months, and now that she was there, so close and in his grasp… it was painful to walk away. He'd kept his distance for a reason, though, and whatever was happening to his brother, whatever had torn his family apart, he didn't want Lorelai anywhere near it, witch or not.
Finally, he grabbed a pend and notepad off the nightstand, scribbling a hasty note before he lent down and kissed her on the forehead. He contented himself with the fact that just because he was walking away in that moment didn't mean he couldn't call her. If he woke her now, she'd be stubborn and want to come, and regardless of all of it, the reality was she'd been put through hell in the past week and needed her rest. She would be no good to them dead on her feet, and he needed to have his head in the game, not distracted by the baggage of their personal relationship or his concern for her wellbeing. There was no other way.
By the time he got back outside, Sam was pacing anxiously by the Impala, and immediately spun on his heel, looking to Dean impatiently for the keys.
"What took you?"
"You're kidding right? That wasn't even five minutes." He pulled the keys from his pocket, and Sam wasted no time in grabbing both his and Dean's bags and striding back towards the trunk.
"Come on!" he complained. Dean sighed, resigning himself to whatever hours of driving he had ahead of him. So much for even the best laid plans.
Over 32,000 words later, that finally concludes what I intended to be one, maybe two, chapters
Hope you all enjoyed and are ready for the next chapter, which will be up next week! From the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much for reading and for the favorites/follows and the reviews. You guys bring the biggest smiles to my face and give me something to look forward to, and I am extremely appreciative ❤ Thank you!