Topic: Abide With Me (AU Backstory)

Ayden · Date: 2012-09-03 15:54 EST

((Contains situations of an adult nature.)) ___________________

Seven hours of driving gave Dean a lot of time to think. Maybe too much time. He thought about everything Gabriel had said. He weighed all the pros and the cons. Deep in his gut, he knew saying yes to Michael might be the last conscious decision he was ever going to be able to make. He knew there was a good chance he wouldn't survive. He knew there was a chance he'd have to kill his own brother to save the world. He knew his family wasn't going to like his decision, and he knew if he couldn't get Sam on board, it was all for naught anyway. He knew Cas wasn't going to be happy with him, but he saw no alternative. If this was going to be his last hurrah, the last few days of his life before he became Michael's condom, then it was time to get his life in order.

There was something he had to do, someone he had to see, before the sh*t hit the proverbial fan. There was a long list of people whose lives had touched his over the years, but of all those people, there were two in particular that he wanted to see, that he wanted to say goodbye to before it was all over. No one but Sam knew he'd kept in touch with them after all these years, dropping a postcard in the mail now and then without a return address. He'd kept promising visits, but like his father before him, though he had good intentions, the job always seemed to get in the way, and his visits were few and far between.

"Welcome to Lake Manitoc," a sign proclaimed on the side of the road as the Impala neared the sleepy little Wisconsin town. It didn't take long before Dean was pulling the Impala up in front of the house. The sun was just setting, the sky ablaze with fiery hues of orange and red. It would be dark soon. He hadn't stopped for food, forgetting to eat in his haste to arrive, as if food wasn't important, as if he was running out of time.

He quietly watched the house for a few minutes while the sun sank lower in the western sky. He'd once saved a life here, and that life had made an impression on him. A connection had been made that he'd been unwilling to sever, but it occurred to Dean in that moment that in a way, he was just like his father, never settling down, never making any promises he couldn't keep. After a while, Dean gathered his courage and got out of the car, both dreading and anticipating this moment, more goodbye than hello.

The house was the same it had always been, perhaps a little more run-down than in previous years, but no less loved and lived-in for that fact. Two rooms were illuminated - upstairs, a bedroom light was on, Zeppelin's Ramble On audible from the open window, and downstairs, a woman was visible tidying up the kitchen, clearly putting away leftovers from the evening meal. About the only difference from Dean's very first visit here was the lack of the sheriff's car out the front. That detail had been missing for five years now, and would never be seen again. But the inhabitants had grown together and moved on, and there was always a welcome in this house for the man making his way up the path toward them.

Despite everything, despite his reasons for coming here, Dean had to smile when he heard the guitar strains of Led Zeppelin drifting out of the upstairs windows. He lifted his head, seeing the light on in the window, knowing there was a teenage boy up there who wouldn't be alive if it hadn't been for him and Sam. That was the reason he did what he did, and that was the reason he was considering saying yes to Michael. He didn't expect his family to understand; he didn't expect Cas to understand; he didn't expect anyone to understand. The boy in that room upstairs deserved a chance to live and so did his mother, and Ayden and Bobby and Ellen, and yes, even Sam. This wasn't their fight; this wasn't their responsibility. He'd started this and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to finish it.

"Lucas!" The familiar voice called audibly from the kitchen to that upstairs room, the mother calling to her son to turn his music down as she leaned against the counter. Even from the street, her indulgent smile was visible as the predictable response made itself known.

"All right, all right," Lucas called back, and a moment later, Zeppelin was suddenly a lot quieter. The teenaged boy passed by his window; a thunder of footsteps on bare wooden stairs announcing his arrival downstairs before he burst into the kitchen, laughing at his mother's genuine shriek of shock.

Dean made his way up the walk and onto the porch, unnoticed as of yet, listening quietly to the goings on inside the house, the sounds of normality. His thoughts turned back to the early days of his childhood, when it was just his mother and himself, his father often missing for reasons of his own that Dean hadn't entirely understood then and still didn't. He'd once told Lucas to take care of his mother, just like Dean had done, and he was happy to know the boy had listened. After a moment, he gathered his courage and pressed a thumb against the doorbell, at least announcing his presence.

The laughter didn't stop just because the doorbell rang. It simply faded away as mother and son went their separate ways, one to the door, the other to another room at the back of the house. The face that greeted Dean as the front door was opened was reminiscent of the ten-year-old boy he'd first met five years before, but infinitely closer now to manhood. No longer marked with the grief of his father's death, or the fear of the strange psychic link Peter's ghost had forged with the child during that horrific encounter, Lucas Barr's grin was wide and easy-going as he recognised their visitor. "Zeppelin rules!"

"Hey, Lucas," Dean smiled as the now teenage boy greeted him at the door. He lifted a hand to give him a high five, just like he'd done when he'd first met him and like he'd done every time he'd seen him since. It was like a secret handshake with them, a shared greeting that had become a tradition between them, better than a hug because it was all theirs. "You're getting tall," he remarked, more in personal observation of the time that must have passed since his last visit.

Lucas' hand thumped against Dean's in a solid hit as he stepped back, not needing to invite the hunter in. "Heard that's what happens when you get older," was the boy's less than respectful response to his friend's remark as he shut the door, lifting his voice to call out. "Mom! Dean's here!"

Andrea's voice answered, pinning her location down to back in the kitchen once again. "Give me a minute!"

"Yeah, well....I'm getting older, but I'm not getting any taller." Dean stepped into the house, darting a glance around at the now familiar surroundings, noting the small changes since he'd last been there. The house was looking a little worn, but Dean knew it wasn't the way a house looked that made it a home - it was the people who lived there. "Bad time?" he asked Lucas, hearing Andrea's voice in the kitchen.

The teenager snorted with laughter, shaking his head. "She's playing OCD with the cleaning, you know how it goes," he grinned, clapping Dean firmly on the shoulder. "Go on through, she won't care. Hey, since you're here, you think I get to stay up later tonight?" A glint of opportunistic glee showed itself in Lucas' eyes as he gave Dean a light push toward the kitchen.

Ayden · Date: 2012-09-03 16:02 EST

Dean chuckled, the first time he'd laughed in days. It felt good to immerse himself in a little bit of normal for a change. It was good for his heart and his soul. "That's up to your mom, I guess, but I'll put in a good word," he replied as he got shoved toward the kitchen. "Andi?" he called. "I'm coming in and I haven't wiped my boots." He tossed a mischievous wink at Lucas before starting toward the kitchen.

"Yeah, yeah ..." Andrea's laugh echoed Lucas' the closer Dean got. "Laugh it up, see if you get to eat us out of house and home again anytime soon." This was a blatant lie one way or the other; Andrea never minded putting food on the table for Dean when he made an appearance, and he certainly didn't mind eating whatever was put in front of him. When he stepped into the kitchen, she was just setting the microwave to heat up the leftovers she had been about to put in the fridge, turning to smile welcomingly to the hunter. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" One slender arm reached up to give Dean a warm hug, under the cover of Lucas' snickers.

"What, no smooch this time?" her son teased, thumping himself down at the kitchen table. "Want me to shut my eyes and cover my ears?"

Dean smiled at Andrea's greeting, not minding that he hadn't gotten a kiss. He was pretty sure he'd get one at some point before his visit was through. He didn't come here for that. He came here because this was his sole refuge from the darkness that was made up his life, and because he had come to genuinely care for these two people who reminded him so much of himself and his mother when he was a boy. "Are you old enough not to giggle and mention cooties?" Dean teased with a good-natured smirk, ducking his head to brush a kiss against Andrea's cheek. "It's good to see you, too." He'd been here less than five minutes and already his heart felt lighter, like a heavy burden had been lifted.

"I'm old enough to be asking for advice," Lucas countered with a grin, averting his eyes from the chaste exchange of affection between his mother and friend. It was a strange little dynamic, this one - the infrequent, irregular visits that might or might not include Sam; the way Dean was slipped easily into the family as though he'd never been away, but always with the knowledge that it couldn't last. It wasn't so much love that wrapped him up inside this familiar little house as the sense of belonging, that there was a place for him here if he ever found a way to step back from The Life and its dangers.

Andrea smiled back to Dean, rolling her eyes at her son's less than subtle approach to his current problem. "Sit down and sort out his love life," she told Dean, the gentle swipe of her thumb against his cheek as fond a caress as any a true lover might give. "And as for you -" She met her son's cheeky grin head on with one of her own. "You get to stay up until Dean's finished eating, and then bed. School night." As Lucas complained good-naturedly, she turned away to put together the kind of home-cooked meal Dean only ever got at the Singers' home.

Dean laughed at the exchange between mother and son, feeling like part of the family, though he clearly was not. It wasn't just the fact that he and Sam had saved both their lives; it went deeper than that. He'd made some kind of connection with the two of them that defied explanation, and he knew that if he was ever able to live a normal life, he'd want to live it with them. "Should I teach him bad pick-up lines, like the one I used on you?" he smirked as he pulled his Dad's leather jacket from his shoulder and threw it over the back of a chair. Taking off the jacket was always a sign that he was planning on staying a while, possibly overnight.

Andrea's laugh, full and rich, filled the kitchen. "Yeah, I don't think "Kids are the best" is gonna work on a fifteen-year old," she told him, slipping herself out of the conversation neatly to let Lucas have some time with the man who was the closest thing to a decent male influence on his life.

The teenager was pulling faces at the exchange at his expense, waiting impatiently for Dean's full attention. "Kids are the pits," was his sage offering as his mother slipped away, brown eyes flickering to the jacket now decorating the back of the chair with pleased relief.

Dean didn't really think of himself as a father figure in Lucas' life, and yet that's what he'd become. He'd never tried to take the place of his father or made any presumptions about where he stood in their lives. He couldn't make any commitments, and yet, he'd been there when they'd needed him, drifting in and out of their lives, keeping in touch and helping when he could, not unlike his own father's relationship with Ayden and her mother. Dean had learned from Bobby that family didn't end with blood, and as far as Dean was concerned, Andrea and Lucas were part of his own extended family. Dean smirked at Lucas' comment as he pulled a chair out and took a seat at the table. "Said like a true teenager. I take it you don't think girls have cooties anymore."

"If I thought they did, would I care what they think of me?" A furtive glance was offered toward Andrea's back before Lucas leaned forward, evidently more than prepared for this conversation. For all Dean knew, the teenaged boy could have been storing it up for months, just hoping the hunter would drop by. "Her name's Christie, she moved here with her family last year. She likes my music - at least she always has something to say about it. But how do I know if she's just being nice or if she likes me?"

Dean leaned in, resting his arms against the table, turning serious as he contemplated this all important issue in a teenage boy's life. "What else does she do' Does she smile when you look her way' Does she find excuses to talk to you? Does she giggle with her girlfriends when you're around?"

Lucas turned a sardonic gaze onto Dean. "You know some weird girls," he said, drawing on his vast experience of one elementary and one high school to form that opinion. "She's a girl. They're always giggling. And how am I supposed to talk to her when she's always got this pack of giggling idiots huddled around her" Seriously, what do they do in the toilets that needs all of them at once?" Utterly befuddled by this habit of young single females, Lucas shook his head, at a total loss.

A gentle hand touched Dean's shoulder as Andrea came over to the table, setting a steaming plate laden with meatloaf and mashed potatoes in front of their guest. She knew his eating habits too well to try and feed Dean anything that even looked like it might be a vegetable. "I'll leave you guys to it," she told them, knowing her son well enough to understand that he wanted man-to-man time with Dean while it lasted. Touching a kiss to Dean's temple, she squeezed his shoulder, reminding Lucas with just a look of his new bedtime, and stepped away, slipping out of the kitchen and out of earshot.

Dean's attention was drawn away from Lucas' dilemma by the plate of homecooked comfort food that Andrea had just placed in front of him. To Dean, the simple, ordinary meal of meatloaf and mashed potatoes was like manna from heaven. Oh, to have such simple problems, he thought to himself, the rumbling in his stomach reminding him that, unless copious amounts of coffee counted, he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He turned a grateful smile up at Andrea, not just for the food, but for everything - for welcoming him into her home, despite knowing that he couldn't stay, for making him feel like part of the family, and even for allowing him to help Lucas sort out a problem that was normal for a teenage boy his age.

Ayden · Date: 2012-09-03 16:06 EST

Once she was out of earshot, they could really get down to business and talk about girls without a girl overhearing them. Dean chuckled at Lucas' question as he picked up a fork and cut into the meatloaf. "Beats the hell outta me," he replied. "I think they cluster in the bathroom and plot the best way to torment us."

"Huh." Lucas nodded sagely, happy to agree with this assessment. "It's not like they need help pulling their panties down or anything," he added, glancing toward the door his mother had exited through before adding with a grin that was far too knowing for his age, "Well, not at school, anyway. Seriously, man, how'd you do it' You walk through town and you could have any woman you wanted. Teach me that."

Dean nearly choked on a forkful of meatloaf at Lucas' comment, coughing to clear his throat and catch his breath. The comment was unexpected from a kid who'd once been practically mute and who had obviously fallen prey to the dangers of teenage hormones. He gestured with a hand toward the fridge, croaking, "Beer," though he'd have gladly accepted a glass of water at that point.

The sheer smug triumph that radiated from Lucas at having reduced Dean to a wheezing, coughing mess was palpable as the boy rose to his feet, clapping the older man hard on the back on his way to the fridge. "What, am I not supposed to know about the birds and the bees yet?" he asked, pulling a bottle from the shelf with a clink of glass. "'Cos, you know, Mom explained all that years ago."

Dean coughed again when Lucas slapped him on the back, lifting a hand to wordlessly tell him that was too much information, but at least, Andrea hadn't asked that of him. He wouldn't have even known where to begin. "Dude..." he started, his voice still a little bit hoarse from the meatloaf that had temporarily lodged in his throat. He briefly wondered at the irony of that. What would Michael do if Dean choked to death on a piece of meatloaf" It was almost too funny to consider. "I don't wanna know, and I could not have any woman I want, trust me."

"Uh-huh." Lucas didn't sound convinced, and his expression backed up that theory. He opened the beer before setting it onto the table beside Dean's hand, dropping down into his chair once again. "I've seen them, dude. Is it the car" Seriously, I need to know this stuff if I'm ever gonna get laid."

"Laid?" Dean echoed, brows arching upward. Whatever happened to talks about what might or might not be hiding under his bed and what to buy his Mom for Christmas" Had it been that long since he'd visited" The kid seemed to have grown up practically overnight, just like Sam had once, a long time ago. Dean chuckled sardonically. "Dude, you want your mom to castrate me" I am not telling you how to get laid."

"Well, then you need to tell me how to stop my wood from pointing at Christie every time she walks by, or I'm gonna start working it out for myself," was the teenager's no-nonsense answer. For someone who'd barely spoke five words during the entire three days when the Winchesters had first met them, Lucas had grown into a ruthlessly blunt young man. "It's not like you don't know how. You want me to get buckshot in my ass because I did it the wrong way?"

Dean chuckled again at the kid's bluntness, reaching for the bottle of beer. "I'm afraid there's no cure for that. You just gotta learn to keep it in your pants." He took a swig of beer before setting it back on the table. "Look, you want to impress her" Just be nice." He couldn't very well teach Lucas how to become like him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. There was, after all, only one Dean Winchester. The world wasn't ready for another. "Seriously, you don't need a leather jacket or a sweet car to impress a girl. Are you looking to date this girl or just get laid" There's a difference."

"How'd you know which one you want?" There was an earnestness in the teenager as he leaned forward again, the conflicting turmoil of teenaged hormones versus genuine concern blazing through in his eyes. "It's like ....I like her, but I don't know her. I mean, all I really do is sit next to her in Biology and do her dissections for her. She fainted the first time she cut into a frog," he added by way of explanation. "But, you know, I want to kiss her, and the other stuff, too. It's not like I'm gonna just blow my load and walk away; this is a really small town, Dean. You wanna survive high school, you play nice."

Dean frowned for a moment, unpleasant memories of high school momentarily surfacing. He wasn't so sure he was the best source of information, but he could tell Lucas what not to do, if not what to do to gain a girl's attention and affection. "One usually goes with the other, but if you really like this girl, you have to treat her right. Respect her, and remember that no means no." Christ, he thought to himself. I'm gonna start sounding like Dr. Ruth. "Best advice I can give you is just be yourself. Really. Don't try to be me. Be you. Girls can see right through you if you try to be someone else."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah," he drawled sarcastically. "Because a freak whose fear of water runs in the family is just the kind of guy any girl would leap at the chance to date." He rolled his eyes, sighing. "I'm going to die a virgin."

"You're not a freak. Everyone's afraid of something, even me." Dean scooped up a mix of meatloaf and mashed potatoes onto his fork. "You wanna know a secret?" he asked, hungrily devouring that forkful.

"You think you can get it out without Mom coming in and stopping you?" Lucas countered with a smirk. "She's got you so whipped." He laughed, leaning back in his seat, easily shifting his mood away from his hormones to something less awkward conversation-wise.

"You think so?" Dean asked, leaning back a moment to contemplate that. He wasn't sure that bothered him so much, but it wasn't quite true. Andrea had never made any demands, knowing what Dean's life was like and knowing he couldn't be a permanent fixture in their lives. She seemed happy to accept what he could give her, but he knew in his heart that she deserved better. "She should find someone better, someone stable, someone who can be here when she needs them to be."

"She's got me." And while, yes, it was a defensive comment, Lucas' usually cheerful face settling into a slightly offended frown at his misunderstanding of the someone Dean was wishing for Andrea, it was also reassuring. Neither Andrea or Lucas were ever going to be truly alone, and it was thanks to Dean and his brother. No matter what happened next, he could be proud of that.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," Dean remarked. No sooner had the words slipped out of his mouth than he wished he hadn't said them. He wasn't talking about Andrea but about his own mother, but Lucas couldn't know that. Dean circled back, changing the subject once again. "I'm afraid of flying," he admitted, telling Lucas something he rarely if ever told anyone, offering up his one phobia and one of his own weaknesses.

Ayden · Date: 2012-09-03 16:09 EST

The unthinking remark earned a confused look from the teen, not understanding what relevance Dean's opinion of his relationship with his mother had to the conversation at large. It was a confusion easily dismissed, though, in favor of trying not to laugh at the thought of the hunter being afraid of anything. "I guess that's why your car's always maxed out on the milometer then, huh?" he asked with a faint grin. "How the hell did you get scared of flying" Did someone throw you out a window when you were a kid?"

Dean's expression mirrored Lucas' confusion, but for an entirely different reason. Why was he afraid of flying" The first time he'd flown had been with Sam while on a hunt he'd rather forget ever happened, but why he was afraid of flying" He wasn't really sure. It would make sense if he was afraid of fire, but fire had never been an issue. It had always been flying. And dogs. "I..." Dean faltered, the fork in his hand coming to rest in his mashed potatoes. "I don't know."

One thing he had always been able to count on in this house was that no conversation with Lucas was allowed to turn melancholy. It was as though the boy had an active aversion to anything that wasn't cheerful or sarcastic. "Whatever, you're awesome even with weird phobias." He nodded to the plate in front of Dean. "You don't gotta eat all that, you know. Meatloaf sucks as$." He jumped as a feminine voice disturbed his equillibrium.

"I heard that," Andrea called, passing through the hallway on her way to the stairs.

"Stop listening in, then!" Lucas called back to her, his grin sparking into life at the chuckle that described his mother's steps up the staircase and properly out of earshot this time.

Dean blinked out of his thoughts and returned to the present. It was not just the fact that he had come to care for Lucas and Andrea that kept drawing him back here; it was also the fact that whenever he was in their presence, he wasn't allowed to wallow in self-pity or sadness. It wasn't anything Lucas or Andrea said that discouraged it so much as the fact that they shared such an overabundance of happiness and sheer love of life that Dean couldn't help but soak some of it up. A gentle smile crossed his face as he was drawn back to the fond teasing between mother and son, and he picked his fork back up. "I happen to love meatloaf." He pointed his fork at Lucas. "And you should, too."

"As$ suckage in dinner format," Lucas insisted cheerfully, glancing back at the door once again. Satisfied that this time Andrea really was out of the way, he rose to his feet and filched a beer for himself from the fridge, cracking it open and taking a deep swig before any objection could be voiced. Settling back down in his chair, he saluted Dean with the bottle. "If she asks, I'm gonna tell her you did it."

Dean sighed and shook his head, remembering his own teenage years. How old was he had his first beer" Fourteen, fifteen" It was before he turned sixteen, wasn't it' "If she asks, I didn't give you permission." Dean countered. "How old are you now?" he asked, having kept pretty close track of their lives, but apparently not close enough. When was the last time he'd been here" When had Lucas grown up" Was he going to have to give him the condoms speech, or was that overstepping his boundaries" No glove, no love. How many times had Dean broken his own rule, he wondered.

"Fifteen." Another thing Lucas never did with Dean was reference his age with regards to school; there had been enough story sharing for the boy to know that which grade he was in meant about as much to the hunter as Latin did to him. "It's been a while since you came by," the teen acknowledged with a half-shrug, no judgement or blame attached to the comment. He understood, in a way few did, that the road just kept on going for the Winchesters.

"You're a little big to take over my knee," Dean said with a small smirk, finishing off his dinner. Meatloaf or not, it was the best meal he'd had since leaving Sioux Falls. In a way, Lucas reminded him of himself at that age - wanting to grow up too fast, wanting everything to happen right away. In some ways, Dean had never grown up; in others, he'd grown up far too quickly. With everything Lucas had been through in his short life, he wasn't much different. After what had happened nearly five years ago, Andrea had made it a point to keep the darkness from their lives. It was one of the reasons Dean's visits were so rare - he didn't want the darkness to follow him here anymore than she did.

"Yeah, well....you know how it is," Dean replied, picking up his beer and taking a swig. He didn't really feel the need to explain, not to them. They knew first hand what his life was all about. "So, tell me about this girl again," he said, changing the subject back to the original topic of conversation.

Lucas shut his mouth in the process of forming another question, embarrassed by the interest in his most memorable crush to date. "Geez, I don't know." He shook his head, rubbing a hand against the side of his neck self-consciously. "I don't know what to say." But clearly he did, and at length. It was almost a full half-hour before he was done, describing the new preacher's daughter as though she was the only girl in the world worth even glancing at. Dean had opened a can of worms with one simple request.

To his credit, Dean listened, not interrupting except to ask a few questions, remembering his first crush. He'd been about Lucas' age and her name had been Sarah. When he closed his eyes at night, if he tried hard enough, he could still see her face, still remember their first kiss. They'd been young and hadn't gotten very far, but when Dad had told him it was time to move on, he'd been crushed, somehow knowing he'd never see her again. It was then Dean fully realized how different his life was from everyone else and that his life was never going to be normal. By the time Lucas was done talking, Dean was on his second beer.

"Why don't you ask her out' Ask her if she wants to hang out sometime" Come over and listen to your music" Get a pizza or something?" Dean suggested, trying to come up with innocuous ways to get to know a girl. He'd never really had to worry about that sort of thing before. Whenever he'd wanted to get laid, there'd almost always been someone around willing to do it, but that wasn't the same thing as having a girlfriend. The list of women he'd slept with was long and lengthy; the list of women he'd let get close was next to nil.

"What if she says no?" With one question, one grimace, one reluctantly fearful tremble, Lucas had given away the crux of the matter - deep at heart, he was still the ten-year-old boy Dean had first saved years ago, afraid to take a chance on a feeling however natural or unnatural it was. "What if she just laughs at me?"

"What if she doesn't?" Dean countered, understanding Lucas' fear, but also knowing that he head to meet it head on if he was going to conquer it. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." Dean lifted his beer to tap it amicably against Lucas'.

"Screw the world, 'cos Zeppelin rules." The beer bottles clinked together, Lucas tipping his back to finish the dregs left of his illicit beverage. Whether Dean had solved his problem or not, there was something more satisfying about spending time talking something like this through with him, rather than his mother. And speaking of Andrea ...

Ayden · Date: 2012-09-03 16:14 EST

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just see that," her voice interjected with mild amusement as she walked into the kitchen, collecting Dean's empty plate from in front of him. She paused, levelling an amusedly stern gaze at her son.

Lucas rolled his eyes. "All right, all right, I'm going."

Dean smiled, though he was unsure what exactly to think of Lucas' problems. They seemed like normal teenage problems to him, what he knew of them anyway. He chuckled as Andrea rejoined them, catching her son with the illicit beer and knowing Dean had allowed it. He drained what was left of his own beer and set the bottle on the table, sensing without being told that it was time for Lucas to hit the sack. "Lucas," he called, needing to reiterate one point, "just be yourself, and you'll be fine. Trust me."

"If you're wrong, I'm gonna blame all my creepiness on my randy Uncle Dean," Lucas promised, but his smile was grateful as he rose to his feet. "Great to see you again." He offered up another high-fve, not expecting to see Dean in the morning but happy to have had a couple of hours all to himself with the hunter who had been his friend since he was a child. He paused beside Andrea, hugging his mom, letting her ruffle a hand through his hair and kiss his cheek.

"Need me to tuck you in?" she asked in a teasing tone, laughing as he backed up with an expression of supreme disgust.

"God no." His goodnight was echoed by his mother as he left the kitchen, thunderous footsteps declaring his arrival upstairs to begin the tedium of the nightly routine.

Dean smiled again, knowing that all Lucas really had to do was trust in himself and be himself. The rest would come naturally. "Deal," he agreed, the pain he was feeling at that parting hidden behind the smile, knowing there was a good chance he might never see Lucas again. He met the high-five with one of his own, like he always had, noting that Lucas' hand was almost as big as his own now. The boy would be as tall as him someday.

Dean wished, not for the first time, that he'd been his son, but Lucas had once had a father of his own, a father he'd loved, and Dean had never tried to take his place. He glanced away, giving mother and son a moment of privacy to say their goodnights, his thoughts turning once again to his own mother so many years ago.

"Sorry about the beer," he apologized as Lucas' footsteps thumped up the stairs. "He's a great kid, you know. You're amazing with him."

Andrea stayed in place for a long moment, listening to her son preparing for bed - more to make sure he actually was than out of any real desire to listen to Lucas' footsteps trailing back and forth. She snorted a little to herself, dropping her gaze back to Dean with a smile. "You made his night, you know," she told him warmly. "Apparently I just don't give the right advice." She chuckled at this double-standard from her son, fingertips trailing gently against the back of Dean's neck as she turned away. "Don't worry about it, he's been sneaking beer for months. I just pretend not to notice."

He closed his eyes briefly at her touch. How long had it been since he'd let a woman touch him like that' Too long. Too damned long. "He just needs a little self-confidence, that's all. He'll be fine. He's got you." He turned his head to watch her move about the small kitchen, as if waiting for her to alight, so that he could finally capture her for himself.

She finally came to a stop by the sink, turning her head to show him her smile as she turned the faucet, soaping a rough cloth to wash the plate and cutlery in her hands. "Yeah, we're getting on okay," she agreed with a slow nod, dropping her eyes back to the sink as her hands moved over the crockery, through the heating water. "I got lucky - Lucas is really easy to deal with, compared with some of his friends."

"Bullsh*t," replied Dean, calling her bluff. He'd seen enough over the years to know how hard it had been for her to raise a son on her own. He knew it had never been easy, but somehow, she'd made it work. "Luck had nothing to do with it. You worked your as$ off raising that kid. It's because of you he is the way he is." He took absolutely no credit in the forming of Lucas. It was all Andrea, and he knew it. "It's a tough age. Girls, school, hormones..." He picked up an empty bottle, his thumb rubbing at the label. "Temptation everywhere you look."

"But he knows better than most that just because you want something doesn't mean you should try and take it." An image floated to mind of a ten-year-old boy leaning far out from a wooden pier, reaching for something in the water because he wanted it, only for a ghostly hand to snatch him down into the depths of the lake. Andrea shook her head to clear the thought away, turning the water off. Taking up a towel to dry her hands, she turned to face Dean, her smile back in place, one hip leaning comfortably against the counter. "Maybe I should let him know that not all temptation is a bad thing."

Dean't thoughts closely followed Andrea's, remembering the day he and Sam had dove into the water after Lucas, remembering how terrified he felt that they wouldn't find him. It had been Dean who'd dragged Lucas from the water, though it could just as well have been Sam, but it was Dean who'd made a connection with Andrea, and it wasn't just because of a kiss. He picked at the beer label with a thumbnail before turning his head toward her again and arching a brow. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

The grin his querying expression elicited was warm and laughing. She pushed off the counter, tossing the cloth aside as she moved toward the table again. "Now, would I do a thing like that?" she asked innocently, reaching out to take the empty bottles up. Her gaze flickered to the label he was picking at. "You know, they say fidgeting like that is a sure sign of sexual frustration." She held her pause just long enough to tease before sticking her tongue out at him with a chuckle. "Still hungry' There's pie."

Dean didn't want to give Andrea the last night on Earth speech, even though he knew there was a strong possibility that his time left on Earth was growing short. He'd never had to give her that speech before. She'd always instinctively known what he wanted or needed, seeming to want it herself, living for the moment and not worrying so much about the future. He chuckled, unable to stay moody around her for long. "I'm not gonna deny it. My hand has been getting more than its fair share lately, but the rest of me is feeling kinda left out." He smiled warmly back at her. "You know me and pie."

"Given the chance, you'd be the fattest rent boy in all creation," she agreed laughingly, hooking the empty bottles between her fingers as she leaned down to him. There was something off about him tonight, as though he had something to say or something hanging over him that he didn't want to share. She'd never ask what it was, but somehow, Andrea got the impression that this was some kind of goodbye. And if it was, then she was prepared to make it a good one. "It's not cherry," she admitted from a distance of about two inches, brown eyes dancing with teasing amusement. "Think you can handle that?"

Ayden · Date: 2012-09-03 16:17 EST

"I'm an equal opportunity pie lover. All flavors are welcome and appreciated," he grinned back, maybe a little too cheerily, as if he was trying to hide a darker mood that was threatening just beneath the surface. He tilted his head to look up at her as she leaned over him, admiring the angle of the view. Up 'til now, he'd kept his hands to himself, the only display of affection a brief and chaste kiss to her cheek. "How long before he's asleep?"

She chuckled softly, kissing the tip of his nose. "Give it half an hour," she suggested, straightening up. "He was up at the crack of dawn this morning practising on those damned drums, he'll be out like a light anytime soon." Leaving the empty beer bottles on the counter to wash before recycling, she pulled open the fridge again, drawing out a pie dish. "Should I slice this or watch you shove it in whole?"

"Is he thinking about playing professionally?" Dean asked, the subject returning once again to the kid he'd watched grow up in bits and pieces over the last five years. He chuckled again at her question. "One slice at a time is fine. I don't want to eat you out of house and home."

Andrea's sigh was comically resigned as she set about cutting a generous slice of the peach pie and loading it up with cream for him. "He's in a band," she told Dean. "Set it up with a couple of his friends a while back. They're getting better," she added with admirable restraint. "All I can say is thank God they practise in Harry's dad's garage. I can only just cope with the drumming." Chuckling once again, fondly amused by her son's less than stellar forays into the world of music, she returned to the table, pie in one hand, another beer in the other, setting both down in front of Dean.

"I'd help more if I could, you know," he said as he followed her with his eyes. He meant both monetarily and otherwise, having left some money behind here and there over the years when he was able, even though she'd insisted they didn't need his help. He reached for the fork, turning his gaze to the pie, trying hard to make small talk and ignore the reason for his visit, even as it loomed over their heads like a storm cloud. "What's he want to do' Does he want to go to college?"

Lowering herself down into the chair beside him, Andrea twisted to watch as he ate, her head resting on her hand. "And you know I wouldn't take it," she smiled in answer to his offer, knowing that she and Lucas had more financial security than Dean had ever had. A nine-to-five job in a laundrette wasn't the most glamorous of careers, but it kept the money coming in. "He's thinking about joining the Wildlife Service," she told Dean, her smile hinting at the inside joke only he, Sam, and Lucas could have guessed at. "Can't imagine where he got that idea from. But we're fine - Dad set up a college fund that I never used and we kept paying into it, so I can afford to get him to college."

Dean dove into the pie, gobbling up half the slice in as much time as it took Andrea to tell him that much. He licked peach filling from his lips, missing a bit that remained at the corner of his mouth, arching a brow at the news. "So long as it really is the Wildlife Service," Dean remarked as he scooped up another forkful of pie, covered in cream.

"Hey, I'm just glad it isn't the Federal Marshals or the CIA," she laughed back at him, shaking her head. Whatever really motivated Lucas to do what he wanted to do, she'd always expected it to be inspired by Dean and Sam. They'd made a heavy impression on him when he was at his most vulnerable, and to their credit, it had been a good impression. Her lips quirked into a lopsided smirk at the decoration of filling on Dean's lips. "You eat like a child," she chuckled, reaching over to wipe that smudge of peach away with the pad of her thumb. "I should put a bib on you."

"I'd rather you put something else on me," he smirked as she wiped pie filling from his mouth. He paused a moment, searching her face, wondering how much he should tell her, knowing she wouldn't like what he had to say, what he'd never really said before. "You should stop waiting for me, Andi. Find somebody who'll take care of you and Lucas, treat you the way you should be treated. Everytime I come here, I wonder if this will be the last time. If next time I come, I'll find someone else here instead of me. And part of me thinks that would be a good thing. You deserve a good guy."

He'd said something like this to her once before, and all it did was confirm one suspicion that had been rising over the minutes as they talked, a suspicion that thankfully had never even crossed Lucas' mind. Andrea's smile turned a little sad. "This is goodbye, isn't it, Dean?" she asked very gently, lowering her hand to curl her fingers about his wrist. "Just like last time. Only you really don't think you're coming back this time, do you?" She didn't ask him why, or what was coming. The weird that was his life didn't really have a place in this house. She'd be able to move on, to stop waiting, the day she accepted that he really wasn't coming back to them. Only time could give her that, and only Dean could give her that time.

He set the fork down, the pie at least temporarily forgotten. He wished he didn't have to broach this subject, to tell her he probably wasn't coming back. As much as he didn't want to bring any darkness to this house, she deserved to know the truth. He turned his gaze to the fingers that were wrapped around his wrist, closing his eyes a moment, wishing things could be different, but they couldn't. This was his life, and they had both always known it might come to this someday. "I want you to know if I could have a normal life, I'd want it to be with you," he told her very quietly. You're my heaven, he thought to himself, unable to speak those words, unsure if she'd understand.

"Then that's good enough." Her hand left his wrist, rising to gently stroke her knuckles over his cheekbone with fond affection. She'd always told herself she would never fall in love with him; she should never let herself fall, knowing that one day he'd be gone. But if he could have stepped away from The Life, he would have been her heaven, too. "You've never lied to me, Dean. You never promised me anything you couldn't give me. So let me make this a gentle goodbye." Her hand turned, her palm cupping to the strong line of his jaw, somehow holding the pain of a final cut deep inside, out of sight. He didn't need to know how much she and Lucas would miss just the possibility that he might drop by on any given day. "Don't say it until it's time to go."

There was only one other time that he'd let her see his pain, that he hadn't tried so hard to hide it from her, even though he didn't want her to see it, and that was just before he'd gone to Hell. He'd told her then that he didn't think he was coming back, really and truly believing he wasn't, just as he did now. Only once before had he allowed her to see the depth of his pain, the anguish he tried to hard to hide. It was like that again, the past repeating itself, only this time he really and truly saw no light at the end of the tunnel, no happy ending, but maybe if he was lucky, he'd have peace. He wasn't in love with her either, or so he told himself, but if he'd been able to live a normal life, all it would have taken was a tiny push and he'd have happily spent the rest of his life with her and Lucas. "I have no regrets, And. Not a single damn one." Not where she was concerned, anyway.

She held his gaze, her smile soft, as understanding as she could be even sat outside the circle of darkness that was his life and the dangers in it. But she didn't like to dwell, and she didn't like to see him in pain when there was no need to feel it right in that instant. "Well, you'll have one if you don't finish that pie," she told him with wry good humor. "I'd hate for you to head out without knowing that every bite tastes as good as the first."

Ayden · Date: 2012-09-03 16:21 EST

To hell with the pie, he thought. It wasn't pie he'd come here for. He could get pie at any damned diner along the way. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if she wanted him to go, if it was too painful for her to have him remain here any longer. He'd thought he'd at least stay the night, but he wouldn't ask if he wasn't welcome. "Right," he replied, looking back at the slice of unfinished pie, picking the fork back up but only pushing what remained of the pie around on the plate. He wondered if he should tell her that he hadn't just come here to say goodbye, but to find the strength and the courage to go on.

Andrea watched him detach himself, and she almost could have laughed if it hadn't been so heartbreaking to see. Her other hand rose, cupping his face beween her palms, turning him to meet her gaze once again. "That was a joke," she told him gently. "I know, my timing sucks." Leaning close, she kissed him; a true kiss, the kiss even Lucas had expected her to bestow the minute Dean walked into the house. Gently drawing back, she let him see the smile in her eyes. "It doesn't change anything," she promised him, casting aside any fear that knowing this was the last time might alter the sense of home in this last refuge. "Not tonight."

Dean's eyelids drifted closed as her lips met his, the pie completely forgotten, the fork left laying on the plate. He lifted a hand to touch her face, fingers sliding back through her hair. One more night was all he could give her; one final night was all he asked. I could have loved you, he thought as he looked into her eyes. Maybe he already did. "I don't want to leave," he told her quietly, almost afraid to speak, afraid she'd hear the feelings he was trying to hide.

"So make believe you don't have to," she suggested under her breath, just loud enough for him to feel the words rather than hear them as her breath painted his lips with familiar heat. "Just for one night." The tip of her nose stroked against the side of his, her eyes gazing into his, telling him without words what neither of them had ever really had the courage to admit to. That she'd been lying to herself for years when she said she didn't love him; only love could have kept her waiting indefinitely all these years, and only love could help her let him go now it was time. But she wasn't prepared to say it, and make the parting harder on him.

He wondered if coming here was a mistake. He'd always avoided saying goodbye, always avoided telling her how he felt about her, assuming she knew without having to say so. He'd come here when time was running out before, broken, scared, a wreck, and she'd given him the strength to go on, to keep fighting when there was no hope. It wasn't fear this time that was the enemy; it was leaving all those he loved behind, and even if he couldn't say the words, those he loved included Andrea and Lucas.

"If I didn't have to..." He broke off, eyes meeting hers, reaching for her hand, linking his fingers with hers, close enough to feel her breath against his cheek. There was no point in talking anymore. No more words to say. "Andrea..." Her name was a whisper of a prayer against his lips, the unsaid goodbye tearing him apart inside.

Whatever else might come to pass, whatever he was about to face, tonight, now, in that moment the only thing that was real, that was right in front of him, was this woman and the last refuge of normality she offered him. Andrea wasn't going to pull those blinkers off his eyes; it was up to him to do that when he was ready. They owed one another one last night, if this was all they were going to have. Her lips covered his once more in a gentle, brief caress, her fingers smoothing over his cheek as she drew away to stand. Her hand entwined with his urged him up onto his feet, the unspoken invitation there for him to take.

He lost himself to her kiss, focusing his mind on just this one moment in time - a moment that belonged solely to the two of them. No angels, no demons, no one to interfere. Two hearts, two souls interwined for one night. Five years ago, she'd stolen his heart with one simple kiss, a kiss not unlike the one she offered now. He'd come to trust her with his heart, like he had no other. The kiss Dean offered in return was soft and tender, evidence of how much he loved her, without saying the words.

He let her pull him to his feet, letting her take the lead, accepting her invitation without speaking, letting the kiss that burned against her lips speak for him. For one last night, they belonged to each other, though in truth, his heart would forever belong to her.

She didn't get far, caught up in the kiss that was his answer to her invitation, loosing her fingers from his to touch and caress, trailing the brush of her palms against his cheeks, over the firm line of his shoulders to loop her arms around him, drawing herself close. In Dean's arms, she could forget the tragedy that had brought him into her life, the losses she'd suffered. She could just be his, and pretend, for a little while, that they were a family.

Dean wound his arms around her waist, pulling her up against him, the tenderness of the kiss turning deeper, smoldering desire not only of the flesh, but of the heart and soul. Like her, he could almost forget the tragedy of his life when he was in her arms, almost forget the dark cloud that was looming overhead, the heavy weight of responsibility. All he needed in that moment was to know that someone loved him, someone cared, someone would remember and miss him when he was gone.

That was something guaranteed to him, even if he hadn't chosen to come by tonight. In this house, at least, Dean would be missed, not just by a woman who loved him in the most secret part of her heart, but also by a boy, almost a man, who looked on him as an older brother, a father figure. This was the family Dean had kept secret from everyone but Sam; this was the family who would mourn the hardest for him, never knowing truly what had happened. But for now, for tonight, that sense of loss was a long way off. Andrea drew him with her, stepping back on quiet feet to guide him from the kitchen, never once truly breaking the kisses that passed back and forth between them even when her hand left him to search for the light switch. She wasn't letting go.

He followed as she lead him through the house, knowing the way by heart, even in the dark. This house had witnessed both the laughter and the tears through the years, the laughter outweighing the tears. It was the laughter he remembered best, that he cherished, forgetting the tears. He felt happiest when he was here with her and Lucas, calm and at peace. He returned her kisses again and again as he followed her through the house, each kiss that much deeper, that much more demanding, that much more passionate, more wanting.

As the passion rose, it swept away the sadness, the sense of loss that threatened to make itself known even in the midst of this exchange. She stumbled at the bottom of the stairs, her heel catching on the bannister, knocking herself back against the wall and dragging him with her with a laughing gasp at her own clumsiness. His name was on her lips in the seconds that passed without contact, unafraid of being caught by a teenager who was, by now, already asleep, himself content in the knowledge that he didn't need to worry about his mother for one night.

Ayden · Date: 2012-09-03 16:24 EST

Dragged against her as she stumbled against the wall, he found himself laughing, even as he caught her around the waist to keep her from falling. He smothered her lips with another ardent kiss, even as she whispered his name. The bedroom was too far away, and he wasn't sure he could wait. "Is he asleep?" Dean asked, lips grazing her neck, breath ragged with desire.

Caught back against the wall, Andrea couldn't care less where they were or how urgent things were becoming between them, lit up from the inside as much by Dean's laughing with her as by his kisses. Her head tipped to one side, eyes rolling back with eager desire as her fingers teased through the short crop of his hair. "If he isn't, he knows better than to come looking by now," was her breathless, laughing answer to the searching question, her lips brushing his ear as her arms tightened around him.

"He asked how to get laid," he admitted quietly, sharing just a tiny bit of his conversation with Lucas as his lips explored her neck, just enough to let her know what was going on with her son without completely breaking the unspoken but assumed promise of confidentiality. Losing his patience and not wanting Lucas to catch them, Dean pulled away from her just long enough to sweep her up in his arms and carry her up the stairs to her room.

Her reaction to this titbit of information was predictable enough. She swallowed the laugh before it could get too loud, though, cradled close with her arms about Dean's neck once again as he hurried them up the stairs and along the corridor. "I guess it's time I started buying him condoms, then," was her only comment on the subject, cutting herself off with trailing caresses of her parted lips against his neck. Spontaneity was all very well, but in a family house, privacy was what counted.

He hastened toward the bedroom, effortlessly carrying her in his arms, pushing the door open with his body, his lips seeking hers as stepped inside, pressing his back against the door to close it, ensuring a small amount of privacy. He purposefully carried her toward the bed, lips still locked to hers as he laid her back, pulling himself away so that he could fumble with his boots.

Laid back, she fumbled to light the lamp beside the bed, wanting to see him in more than just moonlight in the moments that were to follow. Her toes flexed, kicking her own shoes away into a corner of the room as she sat up, reaching out to him. It didn't matter to her if her fingers touched cloth or skin, so long as she could touch him.

The first time would be hurried, as though they were new lovers hungry to taste each other for the first time. The hundredth or the first, it didn't matter. Each time was like the first, exploring and memorizing each other all over again. Dean didn't want to think about it being the last, but if it was going to be the last, he was going to make damned well sure he burned himself into her memory forever. He pressed greedy kisses against her lips as he worked her free of clothing, starting with her shirt, fingers grazing her skin as he peeled the layers of clothing away.

Experienced enough in hurried passion as much as slow and easy love, she barely missed a beat as he drew her shirt up and over her head, ducking out of the cloth to surge close to him once again, drawing her fingers down over his back as her lips played with his. A moment later, and she was drawing his shirt up, baring his skin to the cooler breeze from the open window that offered a background of normal sound to the thick silence that had fallen between them. Hurried or not, hungry or not, every touch and kiss and look was savored, stored against the day when there would be no more to remember.

There was no need for words, no thinking, no speaking, only doing what came naturally and by instinct. As skilled in bed as he was behind the wheel of his car, he knew what to do with a woman from years of experience, and he knew what this particular woman liked better than any other. He pulled away from her briefly, just long enough to yank his shirt over his head. She'd seen him this side of him a dozen times or more, and there was nothing left to hide. No new scars he had to explain, but those of a wounded heart. He hadn't yet told her of Ayden and wasn't sure he was going to. The less he told her, the better, only sharing as much as he felt was necessary for her to understand him and his life. With skilled hands, he unwrapped the remaining vestiges of clothing that kept her hidden from him, memorizing her with his eyes, burning all of her loveliness into his brain. He wanted to remember; he needed to remember - this was part of what he was fighting for, what he was sacrificing his own life for.

With urgent speed, they came together in a clash of limbs and longing, each barrier of clothing stripped away with loving laughter and teasing desire, blissfully easy in each other's company. There was no need to impress, no need to pretend to be more or less than what they were, and that lack of pretense simply made their coming together more powerful. Not the type to simply lie back and enjoy, no matter how skilled he was, Andrea held her ground as the moments passed through desire and passion to the exotic thrill of burning ecstasy, trading kisses that touched the soul as she trembled with him.

That first coupling was brief, but burning with passion and urgency. It always seemed that way with them - the first time full of awkward urgency and longing, as though each had awaited this moment for too long and could wait no longer. The second time Dean took his time with her, exploring and memorizing her body not only with his eyes. Tasting, touching every last inch of her, knowing just what to do to relight the spark of passion that burned deep inside. He took his time, as if he had all the time in the world, as if there was nothing more important than this. He delighted in making her moan, teasing, coaxing her nearly to the pinnacle of passion, before taking her completely, claiming her again, making her his at least for one final night.

And, like always, it was over too soon, the stresses and worries of the days leading to this one night released in each other's arms only to overwhelm them with lazy weariness. Still thrumming, listening to the wild beat of her heart battling his through her chest as they lay together in that intimate tangle of limbs, she brushed a soft kiss to his lips, her smile saying more than words ever could. I wish I could tell you I love you.

Her smile was answered with a small frown, as if he could read her mind or was echoing her thoughts. He wished this moment could last forever, but he knew it was the sweet brevity of it that made it so precious. He couldn't tell her what he was feeling, not in so many words, but it was there in his eyes and on his face, the reluctance to leave her, the dread of what might come in the days ahead. "Andi ..." he started, shortening her name as if it was his own personal term of endearment. "Some things are gonna happen in the next few days. Bad things. I need you to know I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you or to Lucas, okay?" he told her, tracing her smiling lips with a finger as he settled himself close, heart slowing its racing as weariness came over him, not only physical but mental and emotional.

She caught his finger with a kiss, trusting eyes burning into his without a moment's thought for the possibilities of what might happen if he couldn't keep this promise. "You mean besides losing you," she corrected him gently. As much as she didn't want to hurt him, she needed Dean to know that he would be missed. He would be remembered, no matter what. "You've never let anything bad happen to us. Why break a winning streak now, huh?" Her palm flattened over his heart as she nestled close to him, fighting to stifle the yawn that tightened her jaw.

Ayden · Date: 2012-09-03 16:27 EST

As weary as he was, he knew he wouldn't sleep. Sleep was a luxury he just couldn't afford, not until he was back in Sioux Falls. He didn't really want to sleep, though his body demanded it. Time was too precious. He'd have plenty of time to sleep when he was dead. "I've been careful. No one knows about you, about us. No one but Sam, but I-" His frowned deepened, as he looked to her and he closed a hand around hers. "If-if something happens to me, I'll make sure you aren't left wondering." It wasn't so much if as when, but he didn't want to tell her that. He wasn't completely sure how things were going to turn out, but she had to be prepared for the worst case scenario.

How did you answer a promise like that' Andrea was suddenly at a loss for words; it was one thing to know he was saying goodbye, quite another to know that he truly expected it to be his last goodbye. She swallowed against the sudden thickness in her throat, dropping her gaze from his to hide the telltale brightness before he could see it and feel the burden of her loss on top of everything else. Her thumb stroked over his, gentle, soothing, giving her time to be calm before she spoke. "Thank you." What else could she say"

He suddenly wished she'd turned off the light. As much as he wanted to memorize her, he wished he could hide his face from her, hide the sadness he was feeling inside, the dread, the fear even. It wasn't so much the fear of death. He'd died plenty of times before. It was the fear of failure. He'd spent his whole life trying to protect Sam and now it seemed it had all been in vain, after all. He smiled a little when she thanked him. It was more than he got from most people. Most people had no idea of the conflict that was going on right under their noses or of the sacrifices he and Sam had to make for their sakes.

Would it have been so hard for either of them to say those three little words, though both knew how the other felt without saying them, he wondered. It felt selfish to ask her to remember him, and he'd already told her not to wait. He didn't really see himself coming out of this thing alive, and he wanted her to move on. She deserved to be happy, even if it couldn't be with him. "I'll always remember you," he told her quietly, brushing a gentle kiss against her bare shoulder.

She closed her eyes, curling close to him as his lips touched her skin, wrapping her arms around him once again just to savor these quiet moments of almost chaste intimacy. "We'll never forget you," she promised him in a fervent whisper, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck and jaw. I love you. "I'll miss you."

He sighed softly as he felt the soft touch of lips against his skin, not trusting himself to talk for fear she'd hear the tears in his voice. There had been so few tears between them, the laughter always overcoming the tears. He'd never wanted to burden her with his troubles, keeping them buried deep inside, coming here to forget about them for a while, but he'd reached the end of his rope, the point at which he could pretend no longer. He turned to her, taking her in his arms to hold her close, burying his face in her hair so that she couldn't see his distress or know how their parting was tearing him up inside.

Even if she couldn't see it, she could feel the tension in him, knowing that it could only be from the goodbye they were staying so carefully away from speaking aloud. Her fingers stroked lovingly through the hair at his nape as she held him, brushing gentle kisses to his skin, letting him hold her as long as he needed to. She wasn't going anywhere, not until it was time to let go.

He didn't want to break down in front of her. He didn't want to lose control, but if he was ever going to tell her how he felt, it had to be now. For the moment, he only nestled quietly in her embrace, needing to hold her close as much as she held him. Another memory to hold onto to give him the strength to get through this. After a long moment, he pulled away finally, wiping a hand across his face before she could see the telltale tears. "You know..." he started, chosing to share something he'd never spoken of before. "When I was in Hell, and Alastair was doing his worst, I'd try to think of you and Lucas and it would help me get through it."

She didn't recognise the name, just one of many details he had never shared with her, choosing to keep her unaware of the worst of his experiences. But she could guess. It was Hell, after all. Her palm cupped to his jaw, brown eyes soft as she managed to muster up a tiny smile in the face of this revelation. "Then I should have told you something a long time ago," she heard herself say, unashamed of the tremble that betrayed how close she was to joining him in tears. "I love you, Dean. I've loved you for years, I should have told you. I just didn't want you feeling guilty every time you had to leave us."

His eyes widened a little, surprised and yet not so surprised at this latest revelation. His lips parted slightly, as if to say something in return or preparing to kiss her, but he said nothing. He only looked at her, realizing he'd already known that she loved him, that he felt the same way about her. All his life he'd longed to hear those words from someone, anyone, but had been denied. Sure, he knew there were people who loved him, but just one he wanted to hear it. Why was that so much to ask" "Andrea, I..." he broke off, dropping his gaze as his voice broke, overcome by his own flood of emotions.

"I'm sorry I never told you," she murmured to him, easing as close as she could, hating that somehow she'd broken the strict control he always had over himself, that he had broken down now when he'd never let it happen before. Her arms curled around him, not expecting anything in answer to her quiet declaration nor really needing to hear him say the words. She'd broken her silence and, it seemed, broken him in the process.

She hadn't broken him; just the opposite. Though it was always hard to say goodbye, he was no coward. He knew what he had to do, and he'd do it. Knowing she loved him didn't change anything about saying goodbye. It didn't make it any harder or any easier, but it gave him the strength and conviction to do what had to be done. To know that there was someone who'd missed him when he was gone made the fight more personal, it gave him something to fight for. He wasn't just fighting for the good of the world; he was fighting for family, and if Andrea and Lucas weren't family, he didn't know what was. "Don't..." he started, his voice hoarse with breaking emotion. "Don't apologize." He turned back to her, green eyes shining with unshed tears. "You know why I keep coming back here?"

Any other time that question would have sparked a wry attempt at bad humor, but tonight, Andrea wouldn't dream of deliberately cheapening the last moments between them. She shook her head, knowing what she had hoped for and what was reality could be worlds apart. "I hoped it was because you had something here worth coming back for."

He smiled sadly through his tears, brushing an thumb against her cheek fondly. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, Andi." His smile faded, his expression turning solemn, summoning the courage to finally tell her how he felt, after all the years of silence. "I love you, too. I have for a while now."

As he turned solemn, her lips lifted into a soft smile, her cheek turning to press into his touch as she laughed just a little, the sound barely expressing any mirth. She sighed, nestling close to touch a kiss to his lips. "Our timing really sucks, doesn't it?" They could have had so much time, and yet neither one had dared to share the one thing that would have bound them closer while there was still life to live together.

Ayden · Date: 2012-09-03 16:33 EST

He savored that kiss, however brief, the threat of tears fading now that they'd both confessed their true feelings, smiling at the irony of the moment. "Yeah, but it doesn't change anything, And. I don't..." The smile faded as the reality of what he was about to do set back in. "I don't think I'm gonna make it through this time, and I need you to know what you mean to me. What you've always meant to me. You're..." He paused to try and gather the right words. "You and Lucas, you've been my refuge through it all. You're both part of what keeps me going. Without you, I don't think I'd have made it."

"Oh, Dean ..." Her smile was gentle, wary of dipping into his frown and making the worst of his feelings deeper with sympathy that could be mistaken for pity. "Without you, neither of us would be here. You gave me back my son, and not just because you pulled him out of the lake. I'm glad you've been able to come here and just ....be yourself, without all the monsters and the evil things that are all around you. All I ever wanted was to give you a little peace, if I could."

His fingers trailed against her cheek, looking into eyes he knew so well he saw them in his sleep. "You did, Andrea," he told her softly. "You do," he corrected himself, brushing a thumb against her cheek, his head nestled on the pillow close to hers. "I'll wait for you," he told her, even though he'd told her not to wait for him. I'll save a place for you in Heaven. He pressed his lips against hers in a soft, sweet kiss, fingers gently cupping her cheek. If there ever was an angel in his life, it was her.

Lying close, wrapped up in the gentle glow of the lamp's light and one another arms, it was almost possible to forget the trials and tribulations of the real world outside the window. Here, now, there was just them and their newly-declared love, better late than never. Andrea breathed him in, memorising every last nuance that made up Dean. No one found love like this more than twice in a lifetime; she didn't expect to find it a third time, no matter how much he wanted her to. "You'd better. I'll be pissed if I have to fight off some chick with wings when I get to where you'll be."

Dean actually chuckled at her comment, lightening the mood a little, despite the underlying topic of death. "Trust me, there's no competition where you're concerned, angel or otherwise." He kissed her again, rolling her onto her back for the third round, if she was up to it. "There's been no one but you in years."

Screw sleep, she could go one night without it. This was more important. "Oh, really?" she teased, rolled onto her back beneath him easily, arms looping about his neck as she traded him one gentle kiss for one laughing one. "And here I thought you were any port in a storm." Brown eyes twinkled, obviously not believing that for a second.

"I used to be until I met you," he admitted with a teasing grin. His mood had shifted, pushing his troubles aside once again in the wake of her teasing. There would be plenty of time to brood later. Right now, he wanted to live life to the fullest for at least one last night. He pressed another kiss against her lips, sighing softly, his body reacting to that kiss with renewed passion, wanting her again. The kiss started slow, deepening as her body came to life once again beneath him, kissing her again and again, each kiss more ardent, more demanding, more needful.

She breathed him in all over again, sharing those kisses as though they were life-giving, reluctant to break contact even for a moment as her body warmed to his once again. Slow undulations rippled from her to him as her hands roamed, memorizing him by touch for the thousandth time, wanting every last detail scorched into her mind, passion and hunger and love combining openly in a sharing of selves that had always been more than merely the sum of their parts.

Now that they had declared their love for each other, Dean held nothing back, claiming her body as he'd claimed her heart. He moved against her and within her, smothering her with kisses, heart beating wildly as his passion drove him onward, one body, one heart, one soul. As much as he wanted her to move on and be happy, he wanted her to remember him, imprinting himself on her the only way he knew how.

Yet he was already indelibly burned on her heart in a thousand little ways that might never have occurred to him. A smile, or a laugh, the way he looked at her at certain times, the way he let her touch him; how good he was with Lucas, how patient and funny and caring; all these came together in Dean to steal her heart away as soon as she'd let herself see them. She rose with him into loving passion, melting into him until they were one breath, one heart, one soul, one body, with no space between for any interloper to slip between the cracks.

If only things were different, he would have happily settled down, married her, made her an honest woman, made her his wife, raised a family, but no matter how badly he might want it, that fate was never meant to be. Even if by some miracle, he was to survive the coming fight, it was too dangerous; he had too many enemies. At least, Dean understood how his father had felt about Ayden and her mother because he felt the same way about Andrea and Lucas. He gave himself to her completely in that moment, at long last admitting not only to her, but to himself, that he loved her and that he always would.

There were many such moments like that as the night faded away, the stars passing overhead in their slow, majestic dance, until finally, exhausted and content, Andrea succumbed to sleep with the dawning sun, curled close enough to Dean that they could feel one another's heartbeat. Her last words before sleep took her were only for him. "Don't say goodbye," she whispered, her eyes closing as she nestled into him. "We'll see you again, love. Someday."

He held her close in that bittersweet moment, wrapping her in his embrace, letting her finally surrender to sleep, as the sun slowly rose to signal the start of a new day. "Someday," he whispered, as he brushed a kiss against her forehead, having no idea when that someday might be, but hoping she and Lucas had a long life ahead of them, no matter what happened to him.

He waited until he was sure she was asleep before slipping away out of her embrace. He quietly got dressed, before moving back to the sleeping form upon the bed. He pulled the blankets up over her, leaning close to press another kiss against her cheek, protective and loving. He paused a moment to close his eyes and breathe her in. "I love you," he whispered, resting his forehead close to hers, before pulling slowly, reluctantly away.

He straightened, not wanting to leave, but knowing it was better this way, easier for them both, easier for Lucas. No long, tearful goodbyes. It was better they remembered him this way. He hesitated before leaving, wanting to leave her with something more than just memories, wanting to leave her with something to remember him by. After a moment's consideration, he tugged the silver band from his finger that he'd worn for years.

It was no heirloom and held no deep meaning, except for the fact that it belonged to him, that he never took it off, that it was as much a part of him as the Impala or the Colt or his father's leather jacket. He looked at the ring that lay in the palm of his hand for a moment, his hand feeling naked without the familiar weight of it against his right ring finger, before leaning over to set it on the nightstand beside the bed where he knew she'd find it. If he couldn't give her a wedding ring, at least he could give her that - a token of his love and devotion, and a symbol of remembrance.

The morning sun was rising, and it was time to go, time to face a new day and the fate that awaited. At least, he knew at last that he'd be remembered, and perhaps more importantly, that he'd been loved.

((I cried when we played this, and I cried editing it, and I'm crying posting it! I'm such a sappy silly! Thanks to Dean's player, as always. Awesome scene!))