November 25th, 2012

The Hoffman family were in a state of shock. Not only had Becky roused herself from her studies to spend an entire hour on the phone with some boy she'd just met, but now she was going out to meet him. It was astonishing for them to see, since this was a girl who had eschewed all social contact in order to advance her studies since she was about six years old. Of course, there was good reason for that, but it wasn't something they talked about in mixed company. So, in honor of this unusual event, she'd been subjected to a couple of hours of her older sister fussing over her hair and clothing, patiently sitting through it until she was allowed to go.

With her father's confused reminder about a one o'clock curfew in her ears, she left the house and hopped into her battered little car to coax it toward the center of town and the pizza parlor where she had agreed to meet Sam Winchester for a meal. She didn't know if she was early or late, or even what to expect from the evening, but he intrigued her enough that she had abandoned her studies for him. That was all she needed to know, for now. Leaving the little car parked safely off the main street, she tucked her hands into her pockets and headed toward the pizza parlor, hoping she wasn't going to be sat alone for too long.

The Winchesters were just as shocked to find out that Sam had a date, though they had not found out from him, but from Ayden, who seemed to delight in teasing him about it and about their first meeting, reminding him not to repeat the incident. Becky may have forgotten and forgiven him once, but he doubted she'd forgive him if he were to throw up on her shoes a second time. Both Dean and Ayden had offered their cars up for the evening, but in the end, Sam had chosen to take his father's Impala, since it was the car he was most accustomed to driving in his own time. Jo had fussed over her son a little more than necessary, the entire family relieved that Sam had decided to do something as ordinary as going on a date to get his mind off missing Hope. As it happened, Becky didn't have to wait at all. Sam had beat her to the pizza parlor and was sitting quietly alone while he waited, wondering if he was going to get stood up.

Tucked into her coat, Becky smiled as she recognized her date waiting for her by himself, pushing the door closed to shut out the winter chill. Shaking her hair out, she undid her coat as she walked toward him, dipping her head to catch his eye. "Hello," she greeted him, confident and shy at the same time. "Is this seat taken?"

For some odd reason, he hadn't taken off his coat yet, maybe not really believing she'd actually join him. From the look on his face when she approached, it seemed he was genuinely surprised to see her, as if he'd already convinced himself that she was going to stand him up. He had already ordered himself a beer, slightly annoyed at having been asked for a driver's license to prove his age, but that annoyance passed as soon as she arrived at his table. "Hi, uh..." He awkwardly moved to his feet, a little unsure of date etiquette. "Yeah, I mean, no..." He waved a hand at the chair in front of him. "Please, join me."

"Thanks." Shucking off her coat to hang it over the back of the chair, she shook her hair back out of her face and slid into the seat he indicated, laying her arms comfortably folded onto the edge of the table. "You know, you looked like you were expecting to be stood up."

"You look, um..." He trailed off, as they both spoke at nearly the same time, him to offer a compliment and her to point out how very uncertain he looked. He shrugged his shoulders as the two of them retook their seats. "I'm not very good at this sort of thing." No, he wasn't a virgin, but he couldn't really remember the last time he'd been on a date either.

She smiled at the almost compliment. "Well, if it helps, neither am I," she assured him. "My sister used to set me up on blind dates all the time, but I usually bore people. I'm not that interesting a person. She gave up after six months."

Sam rolled his eyes, chuckling a little. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as he thought. "Yeah, I know what that's like. To be honest, I think Ayden's trying to play matchmaker between us. She seems to think I spend too much time alone, I guess."

Becky snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes with him. "Oh, yeah, the girl who's been dating her best friend for the last two years to avoid actually dating is now setting people up," she laughed, shaking her head. "Blind leading the blind, huh?"

"Uh..." Sam muttered awkwardly, wondering just how much he should tell her about her former dorm-mate, who was no longer dating, but betrothed and expecting a child, if Gabriel was to be believed anyway. "It's kind of complicated," he told her, wondering what the hell he was doing. How was he supposed to date anyone when he couldn't tell her even half the truth about his own life"

"Well, I figure she's been seeing someone on the side, someone she didn't want anyone at college to know about," Becky shrugged. "It's her own business, no one else's. She's cool, though - next to me, she's the youngest in our year. It's nice knowing someone else skipped a few grades on the way up, too."

Dare he tell her Ayden wasn't planning on returning to school after break or should he leave that for her to share on her own" He decided to take advantage of the subject and ask a few questions of his own. "So, what are you majoring in?" he asked, which was as good as asking what she wanted to be when she grew up.

"Classical Literature," she told him with a grin, knowing that was a major mostly pursued by the rich kids who didn't have to get a job after they left uni. She paused to order a Coke from the waitress - too many people knew her around town for her to be able to get away with ordering a beer. "And minoring in Ancient History. I'm kinda fascinated by it, you know?"

"You plan on becoming a college professor?" he asked further, wondering what the hell kind of job you could get with that kind of degree. He didn't think there was much call in the want ads for people with her particular qualifications. He picked up his own beer and took a sip, wondering if he should have ordered a Coke instead.

"No, I-I want to be here. I do. I wouldn't have called you if I didn't want to get to know you better." Oh, God, he thought. What was he saying" Get to know her better" What was he supposed to tell her when she started asking about him' About Hope" About his life" He was starting to feel panicked, and he didn't want to do that on a first date. "Look, let's-let's just start over. Let's pretend we've just met and we know nothing about each other." Which was pretty close to the truth, anyway. He held out a hand to her, his smile devastatingly handsome, even if he was completely unaware of it. "Hi, I'm Sam Winchester."

Whether he knew it or not, that smile was more than enough to restore her sense of equilibrium, bringing an echo of it to her own face. She was definitely on the right side of stunning when she smiled, though like him she wasn't really aware of her own looks. Slipping her hand into his, she shook it with a small giggle. "Hello, Sam," she greeted him as though it were the first time. "I'm Becky. Well, Rebecca Hoffman, but everyone calls me Becky."

It wasn't the giggle that took his breath away, but the smile. Though she might not realize it, she was the most beautiful girl he could ever remember meeting, much less dating. Not dating, he reminded himself. One date. It was one date. He was only interested in friendship, but if that was the case, why was he still holding onto her hand" "Becky," he echoed. "Nice to meet you. Would you like to join me for pizza?"

Her lips twitched with sweet amusement, unable to resist her response. "Only if you include sausage," she told him mischievously, glancing down at their joined hands as though only just noticing that she'd been holding on far longer than she really should have been. With a softer version of that stunning smile, she slipped her hand from his to take a sip of her Coke. "So ....read any good books lately?"

He chuckled again, letting go of her hand at last and reaching for the menu again, just as the waitress wandered over to take their order. He ordered for them - one large pizza with cheese, sausage, and pepperoni - before turning his attention to her question. How was he supposed to answer that' Sure, he'd read books - ancient tomes he was willing to bet she'd never heard of. "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone?" he quipped with a smirk.

"You asking, or telling me?" Becky countered laughingly, leaning forward onto her arms once again. "You know, I never understood why they changed the name of that book for an American audience. The Philosopher's Stone is an established alchemical goal. It's not like us in the States don't have the means to research it if we don't understand it."

He furrowed his brows at her, a little surprised by her commentary on a popular children's book. He'd wondered the same thing once, but had already reached a conclusion. "It's a kids' book, Becky. I don't really think most kids know the difference," he replied, picking at an invisible spot on his beer mug.

"Well, yeah, but don't you think it's a just a little insulting to America's kids?" she pointed out, easily passionate about anything vaguely academic, not to mention supernatural. "I mean, it's still Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in England and all over Europe, but not here. It's like they assume none of us know our own background."

Sam looked up from his beer glass, curious why she was so passionate about something that wasn't even real. It was just a kids' book. There were a lot more important things to get passionate about, and yet, the mere fact that she could get passionate about something as ordinary a book intrigued him somehow. "I have a confession to make. I never really read it. I just saw the movie."

She chuckled softly, not laughing at him at all. "Yeah, well, I've got all the books and all the movies," she admitted with a charming shrug. "I might disagree, but that doesn't stop it being a good yarn, right?"

"Now who's the nerd?" he teased with a smirk. "Or is it geek" I always get those two mixed up." Okay, so she was another bookworm, just like him. That was one thing they had in common anyway. "Are you gonna invite me back to your place to binge watch Harry Potter?" he asked, with that smirk still in place, but at least he was smiling now.

"What, you want me to put you to bed with a cup of cocoa and read you a bedtime story now?" she countered with an impish sparkle in her eyes. "Isn't that kind of forward for a first date?" She grinned, hooking her hair back behind her ear. "It's geek, I think. Whatever it is, I am definitely it."

"Maybe not a cup of cocoa," he replied, not realizing what he'd said until he'd said it, noticing the sparkle in her eyes and unable to stop himself from flirting in return, if that was what she was doing. He watched as she pushed her hair back behind an ear, secretly wishing he could do it for her. "That makes two of us then."

"Always good to know I'm in good company," she giggled softly. Her curiosity had been piqued when they'd spoken at the donut shop, however, and she figured now was as good a time as any to ask him what was on her mind. "Do you mind if I ask you something" Nothing vastly personal, I promise."

He took advantage of the brief lull in conversation to take another swallow of his beer, tilting his head slightly in curiosity at her question. "No, I'm not a virgin. Yes, I believe in love at first sight," he found himself saying before he could stop himself again. "Sorry, kidding. What do you wanna ask me?"

She spluttered on her own drink, catching it before she spat at him, thankfully. "Oh, that was mean," she accused in amusement, wiping her mouth and chin quickly, trying not to laugh too loudly. "No, I was just curious. Most people, if they express interest, give me the weirdest looks when I tell them I'm reading Homer. You didn't even blink. Are you familiar with him?"

He smiled, amused by her laughter, though he wasn't going to say whether he really had been kidding or not. "Homer?" Sam echoed, taking another swallow of his beer, almost as if to stall his answer to a question he thought better left to Ares. Homer was a poet, not an historian. How many times had he heard Ares say it' He'd grown up hearing the stories of Ares' life and the rest of the Olympians first hand. They were often very different from what Homer had written or what anyone had written down regarding the gods of old. "I've read Homer," he admitted, averting her gaze.

His mouth dropped open a little. She seemed to have a pretty good grasp of the ancient world, and he thought maybe she didn't need him to draw her a crude map, after all. He wondered what she'd say if he told her he'd already been there; that he could take her there someday if she wanted him to. Okay, maybe that was going too far. He hardly even knew her yet. He couldn't tell her that he'd been there; he couldn't tell her anything, and he felt that gap growing between them again. He realized that this was in part what he and his family were fighting for - so people like Becky could live their lives and pursue their dreams and follow their heart's desire without having to worry about Hades ending it all. "A year. That's a long time."

"It seems so now," she nodded, sobering as she spoke. "But a lot can happen in a year." There was more weight behind her words than most people would have put there. She'd lived through the aborted Apocalypse, and there was more than a hint in her eyes that she knew just how precarious some things really were. Meeting Sam's gaze, she sighed softly, and the words came without thought. "Besides, that's all the time my grampa can spare me for. I've gotta go into the family business, and he's getting old. He wants me initiated before he dies, and he freaks out about that pretty much every day."

"Initiated?" he echoed, arching a brow. The only time he'd ever heard talk of initiation was some silly high school pranks or as part of something far more serious - something he had told none of his family about as yet, not even Ayden - not in this time, anyway. "What kind of business?" he asked curiously, assuming she had a perfectly logical explanation, despite the irony of her statement.

"Uh ..." If Sam thought he was a bad liar, Becky was truly atrocious at it. She looked at him with wide eyes, inwardly kicking herself for being so free with her speech. How the hell was she supposed to explain this" "Uh ....well, my-my grampa is, uh, a custodian of a-a sort of library, and, uh ..." She looked panicky for a moment and gave up. "Sam, I shouldn't have said anything. I don't want to lie to you, but I can't tell you what my grampa and my dad do, what I'm going to be doing eventually. I'm really sorry, I know it sounds totally crazy, and I wouldn't blame you if you decided never to speak to the weird bookworm again. It's odd and annoying and ....I wish I hadn't said anything."

"A library?" he asked, with a puzzled look on his face. He only knew of one library that was so secretive it couldn't be spoken of with ordinary people, but it was completely ludicrous to believe she could possibly be part of that. It was ridiculous, impossible, even. She was just a girl with an interest in classical literature who was part of some eccentric family who had a private library of some sort. He had told her his name, and she had said nothing of it. If she and her family were part of that secret society, then that name should mean something to her, shouldn't it' There was one way to find out, though it was risky. He studied her for a long moment as if debating what to do, the pizza forgotten for the moment. Where had he seen that damned necklace before" After a long moment, he reached for the pen and paper, pausing a moment, the pen hovering over the pen for an interminably long moment before he set the pen to paper and drew something on the page.

It was hard to tell what he was drawing there, until he moved his hand and let her see the paper. Drawn in black ink was the image of a six-pointed star, the top and bottom rays larger and longer than the other four, enclosed by two circles. The star was not the same as the pentacle Sam wore on his chest. The star he'd drawn on the paper was known as an Aquarian Star, and it was the symbol which belonged to the Men of Letters, a secret society of members who were sworn to keep safe many esoteric secrets known only to those few who were initiated into their ranks.

Sam held his breath while he waited to see Becky's reaction to the Aquarian Star, his heart beating hard in his chest, unsure whether he was hoping for her to recognize it or have no idea what it was he'd drawn there. There were good and bad points to either scenario, and he could only hold his breath while he waited for her reaction.

Becky's jaw actually dropped when she saw it. She knew that symbol intimately, had known it since she was a tiny child. She was, in fact, in training to join the Men of Letters herself, a legacy promised to the order by her grandfather and father to follow in their footsteps and keep the secrets entrusted to them. To see the Aquarian Star drawn by a man she'd thought she would have to keep it all a secret from was shocking, to say the least. After a moment of wondering, she pulled herself together and carefully turned down the collar of her top, showing Sam a small pin engraved with the same symbol. "Are you a legacy?" she asked him in a very soft voice. It was the only way to know for sure he understood what that symbol meant.

"My great-grandfather was....is an elder," he replied correcting himself from past to present tense, keeping his voice low and glancing around to make sure no one was listening. He wore no pin and had no proof to show her, other than the fact that he intimately knew how to draw the symbol she wore on the inside of her collar. "I'm an initiate. Or at least, I was," he corrected himself again.

She frowned thoughtfully. "I've never heard your surname," she admitted quietly. "But I wouldn't have. They don't share the list with the uninitiated. Would ....would you mind if I asked my father" It's not that I don't believe you, I just ....People have tried to infiltrate before, and it nearly succeeded once. We're trained to be careful."

"I'm not a demon, Becky. My father is Dean Winchester." His gaze swept around the pizzeria again, but no one seemed to be paying attention. Of those who were there, there was a young family more worried about feeding their kids and a group of teenagers too self-absorbed in themselves to notice much of what was going on around them. He tugged at the collar of his shirt to show her a brief glimpse of the tattoo that was etched on the upper left part of his chest. Though it might not prove he was who he said he was, it should at least prove that he wasn't possessed.

She seemed to relax as he showed her the brief edge of that tattoo, recognizing it for what it was. She wore one herself - a painful sixteenth birthday ritual her grandfather had insisted on. Since its discovery, it was required for all Men of Letters to wear, to reduce the risk of demons infiltrating the order. "I-I've never heard of Dean Winchester," she told him, still speaking quietly as she turned her collar up once again. "But from the way you say it, he must be important, so there must be some record of him. My father or my grandfather would know. So what happens now?"

Sam frowned a little at her question, not really sure what happened next either. What were the chances of meeting someone on a random date who happened to be part of the same secret organization that you were part of? It was too bizarre. If Sam didn't know better, he'd have blamed the Fates, but they had already finished them off, and as far as he knew, Ares was in the process of taking care of the last of them. A small smile found its way to Sam's face as he considered that. She was a student of Homer, and his uncle - or soon to be uncle - was a Greek God. He wondered what she'd think of that. It gave him a little chuckle.

"Private," she clarified, determined to get a clear answer out of him. She was actually thinking of a specific place outside town, as well, though this was only the first date. Considering sharing hot springs in the middle of winter was perhaps getting more than slightly ahead of herself on the whole.

"Hot springs, then," he answered without hesitation. "Cabin, tent, or hotel?" he asked, curious whether she enjoyed the outdoors or preferred to be pampered. He finished off that slice of pizza he'd been working on, licking pizza sauce from his fingers.

"Cabin," she answered with her own smile. "I'll sleep in a tent if I absolutely have to, but I'm always grumpy in the morning, and hotels ...." She grimaced, actually squirming. "I hate them. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people have slept in that bed before you. It's wrong."

She paused, considering her next question, and found herself utterly enthralled by the sight of him licking his fingers clean. She was no virgin herself - though her dad didn't know that - but Sam licking his fingers was a sight to savor. Swallowing, she tried to drag her thoughts back off the cliff they'd run to. "Fireworks or movies?"

He seemed completely unaware she was watching him, as he licked his fingers, followed by another swallow of beer, draining his glass. "Hmm, that's a tough one," he mused, his eyes meeting hers again as he set down his glass. "Fireworks in summer, movies in winter. How's that?"

"Mmm, interesting. So you're not the kind of guy who takes a girl to a New Year's fireworks display just so you can cuddle up to keep her warm, huh?" Becky's dark eyes danced playfully as she asked this, wiping her fingers clean on her napkin before reaching for her drink once again.

"Oh, well....New Year's Eve....That's an exception to the rule." He fiddled with his empty glass as he contemplated his next question. "Okay, summer or winter" Swimming or skating?" Of course, that was two questions, but she was really only obligated to answer one.

"Summer." Her answer came instantly, far too easy to complete the image of her as someone who didn't mind roughing it but would rather not, and loved the sunshine. "I can't stand being cold. Heights or water?"

"No roasting chestnuts by an open fire?" he asked, thinking winter was far more romantic than summer, though it all depended on the chosen activity and the company one kept. Anyway, like she'd said herself, winter was about keeping each other warm, but he didn't want to debate the fact. He winced at her next question. "Water. I'm afraid of heights."

"Okay, well, maybe I should have said sunshine, rather than summer," she admitted with a smile. His answer made her smile soften with understanding. "Me, too," she told him in a quiet voice. "I freak out if I have to walk up a metal grate stairwell."

"Me, too! I can't even go on a Ferris wheel without throwing up. Hope used to tease me about that when I was a kid," he blurted, only just realizing she'd only met his sister once very briefly. He ducked his head at the mention of his sister before quickly following his comment up with another question, hopefully avoiding any further mention of his sister. "Plain or peanut?" He could only be talking about M&Ms.

She flashed him a quizzical look when he mentioned a girl's name - she assumed he was talking about his sister, but didn't press the point. He seemed uncomfortable at having said it at all. "Plain," she said with a light shrug. "I'm allergic to nuts."

"Allergic to nuts!" he exclaimed with a gasp. "That's horrible! What do you put on your ice cream sundae?" He made a mental note of her allergy, wondering what would happen if she ate some. "Do you break out in hives or something?" he asked curiously, though it wasn't his turn to ask any questions.

"Um ..." She giggled at his sudden interest in what she considered to be a not so interesting fact about herself, but played along as best she could. "It depends how much nut I'm exposed to. A tiny bit, and I get hives, but if I ate a peanut M&M, my throat would swell up and I would suffocate. Cheery, huh?"

"Wow, no Cracker Jacks either then," he started. "Or peanut butter or Reese's Cups or Snickers bars," he said, his brain going over a list of all the things he could think of that were made of peanuts. The waitress stopped at the table to drop off the bill and ask if they wanted anything else, and Sam looked to Becky for an answer.

"No, nothing like that," she chuckled. "It was Reese's Cups that found me out with the allergy in the first place." She looked up at the waitress, glancing at Sam in time to meet his gaze. "Uh ....do you wanna share a sundae" One without nuts, obviously."

Sam smiled back, pleased with that idea. "Sure, but....You're not allergic to chocolate, too, are you?" he asked, only partly teasing. Being allergic to nuts was one thing, but if she was allergic to chocolate, too, then he thought that was a real tragedy.

Becky giggled, shaking her head. "No, I can handle chocolate," she promised him as seriously as she could manage, which wasn't very, to be fair. The waitress glanced between them, inwardly bemoaning the fact that this handsome guy was obviously on a date with a pretty girl already.

"One chocolate sundae with two spoons, please," Sam told the waitress, folding his arms on the table once she'd departed. "Think we reached twenty yet?"

Becky laughed, leaning forward herself. "I wasn't keeping count," she giggled once more, one hand again rising to tuck her hair back behind her ear. "Thank you for calling me. I'm enjoying myself, and that hasn't happened for a while."

"Thank you for asking for my number," he countered with a smile, resisting the urge to reach for her hand. It was only a first date, after all. "Maybe we should thank Ayden for introducing us."

She smirked suddenly, mischief lighting up her eyes. "You could always pretend it went terribly when you get home," she suggested. "Really make her suffer for setting you up with the awful girl who didn't shut up about her wrong theories on Homer and the Ancient World."

Sam's mouth dropped open, the spoon poised in mid-air, the smirk gone from his face. For all his understanding of Greek Mythology, Ancient History, and the Olympians, in general, what she was telling him was way over his head. He might not personally have the answers to her questions, but he was pretty sure Ares or Apollo did. "What would you do if you did find out' Write a paper about it?"

"Record it in the archives," she said softly. "We know so little about the beings that are in power right now, anything that we learn has to be recorded and protected. What if it comes to a point where the pantheon has to be removed again? It happened once before. I mean, the only reason they got power in the first place, millenia ago, was because the angelic host was completely decimated in the battle against the Titans. Which, incidentally, is when Thera went up in smoke."

"Can I ask you something?" he said, changing the subject a little. While it was all well and good that she wanted to find out what had happened all those years ago and it seemed her curiosity stemmed from her connection with the Men of Letters, his curiosity about her went deeper than that.

"Sure." She nodded, not minding that the subject seemed to be changing. She knew her passion about things that often went deeper than other people were prepared to go tended to either bore or embarrass her companions. "Ask away."

He was neither bored nor embarrassed. In fact, he found her fascinating, but it seemed one question led to another and another as he tried to sort out what exactly it was that she wanted to do with her life, and he thought maybe he should just ask her straight out. "Don't take this the wrong way, but if you really want to find out what happened to Atlantis, why are you wasting your time studying Homer and Sappho?"

She chuckled. "That's a good question," she admitted. "I'm not actually studying the subjects because of their content. I'm studying them for the skills they teach me about researching, double-checking, following a tiny snippet back through written record to its source. That, and these poets are the only voice we have left from that time period. It's a good grounding for where my interest lies. Does that make any sense?" She wasn't entirely sure she'd explained that very well at all, but hoped he could see where she was coming from with it.

"So, what do you want to do when you grow up?" he asked as he offered her another spoonful of ice cream. He was dying to tell her about Ares and Apollo and the other Olympians and was having a hard time keeping it to himself, but before he dropped any hints about that, he wanted to know a little more about her.

"What?" She laughed at the way he'd put the question, refusing to be insulted. She knew she was very young still, despite her academic achievements. "Well, when I was little, I wanted to be Indiana Jones," she shrugged with a smile. "I still kinda want that, you know" As much as I love the written word, nothing could possibly compare to being out there and finding something that hasn't been in thousands of years, and knowing I'm the one who found it." She sighed softly. "I doubt it'll ever happen, but everyone has a dream, right?"

"You want to be an archaeologist, but you're studying to be a scholar?" he asked, guessing. For all his knowledge, he'd never gone to college and had just barely finished high school, but not due to lack of intelligence. It was just a different world, then. He was hoping the Sam that would be born a few months from now would grow up in a world where he wouldn't have to worry about demons and angels and Olympians at odds for control of the world.

"I'm a legacy," she said quietly, and there was the faintest hint that she was just a little resentful of that fact. "My sister would have been, actually, but she has no aptitude or real understanding of what is actually happening. She's not suitable. Whereas ....well, I was reading and writing fluently by four, so I'm the one my grampa pinned all his hopes on. I love my grampa, I couldn't bear to let him down."

Sam turned quiet as he seemed to contemplate something, and it wasn't melting ice cream, though that was what he was toying with and staring at. How much did he dare tell her on this their first date" He thought maybe he could at least tell her how he came to be a legacy, as well, though his story was most likely far more complicated than hers. "My uncle - the one I'm named for - he would have been a legacy, but..." Sam shrugged his shoulders. He'd never met his Uncle Sam and didn't feel too much grief at his loss, though he knew his father felt differently. His father might have become a legacy if he'd lived long enough, but now that Sam and Hope had changed the past, he wasn't sure what the future would be like. He wasn't even sure if his great-grandfather was aware of his presence in this time yet.

"They can't really recruit the way others could," Becky nodded slowly. She had a feeling she could guess why his uncle had never become a legacy, feeling a sympathetic ache for him in her chest. "I'm sorry about your uncle."

His thoughts drifted a moment and he grew quiet again, blinking out of his thoughts as she shared her sympathies. He glanced around the pizzeria, suddenly feeling like it was too crowded, though there was hardly anyone there. "You wanna go somewhere else? Some place where we can talk?" He seemed to be feeling the need for privacy, unwilling to open up too much where someone - anyone - might overhear him.

Becky studied him for a moment before nodding. The mood between them that changed, drawn more sober as their talk went on. This wasn't a conversation they should be having in such a public place. "Yeah, I'd like that," she assured him, reaching into her coat pocket for her purse, nowhere near assuming that he was going to pay at all.

He reached into his jacket for his wallet and pulled out a few bills that Ellen had given him when she'd found out he had a date. It was a little humiliating at twenty-one to have to depend on other people for money, but he hadn't been here long enough to find a job yet, and there had been more important things to worry about than money.

"Hey." Becky reached over to touch his hand, picking up a couple of those bills and giving them back to him. She smiled warmly. "We're going Dutch, no arguments. Or I won't show you my tattoo."

He frowned at her, his male pride wanting to insist on paying the bill whether he could afford to or not. After all, he'd been the one to ask her on a date, and he thought it was only proper that he paid the bill, but he got the feeling this was one argument he wouldn't win. "Next time, it's my treat," he said, though that next time would have to be after he received his first paycheck.

"Uh ....yours." She laughed, knowing the state of her own car wasn't exactly up to most people's idea of road-worthy. "I'm not entirely sure the locks won't have frozen up on my car. It doesn't like winter."

"It's not winter yet," he reminded her with a smile, though there was a definite chill in the air that warned of the coming change of season. "It's not really my car," he explained, with a small blush of his own. "It's my Dad's. I'm sort of in between cars right now." As fond as he was of the Impala, in the end, it was just a car. Bobby had a whole yard full of cars. All Sam had to do was pick one, and it would be his.

"It's somewhere private to sit, at least," she pointed out, fidgeting for a moment before taking his hand in hers and inserting both into his jacket pocket. She was definitely not the mousey shy bookworm her initial impression gave, that was for sure. "I promised you a look at my tattoo."

He'd been itching to take hold of her hand, relieved when she finally took matters into her own hands, so to speak. He smiled back at her, though he was feeling some nervous tension in the pit of his stomach for some reason. He wasn't sure if it was the kiss or the hand-holding or the promise of a peek at her tattoo that was making him nervous. Probably all three! Christ, Sam....You're not in high school anymore. Try to relax! "It's, uh....right over there," he said, raising a hand to gesture toward the lot where a few cars were parked, though it was hard to tell which one belonged to him.

She smiled up at him, clearly not at all concerned by whatever it was he felt he needed to tell her. Perhaps she was too trusting, but there was something about him that called to her. She wasn't inclined to give that up without a fight. "Lead the way."

Given the go-ahead, he started toward the parked cars, veering away from a beat-up minivan and heading toward a shiny, black Impala that was clearly a classic. The car was lovingly restored and well-maintained and clearly beloved by its owner. Once there, Sam let go of her hand so that he could unlock the passenger door and pull it open for her with a creak of heavy metal. "This is it," he said.

Becky followed him quietly, quite content to hold his hand and walk in silence however long it took. As they reached the car, she smiled faintly. It was vaguely familiar - she must have seen his father driving it around when she was little, she decided. Offered the chance to duck inside and get comfortably, she grinned at Sam. "Is this where you lock me in and run away screaming?"

Sam chuckled, amused to point out the flaw in her logic. "Why would I do that' Besides, the doors lock from the inside, so you wouldn't have any problem getting out. On the other hand, if you want to get away, now's your chance," he warned as he closed the door and went around to the driver's side.

"Why would I want to do that?" she echoed as he closed the door, giggling to herself as she watched him walk around to the driver's side. He really was extraordinarily handsome, she decided, even in this half-light from the street lamps. He had a smile that had already startled her heart more than once, and those eyes ....Becky caught herself in mid-sigh and pulled herself together. First date, one kiss. Don't get ahead of yourself. She twisted as he reached the driver's door, adjusting herself to face him as he got in.

Not only was he completely unaware of the effect he was having on her, he seemed completely unaware of his own good looks. Sure, he'd had a few girls chasing him in high school, but he hadn't thought much of it. Unlike his father, who reveled in the attention, Sam seemed completely oblivious to it. Of course, he felt practically the same way about her. It was why he'd kept stealing glances at her in the donut shop a few days earlier. Simply put, she was drop-dead gorgeous, and he still couldn't quite believe he was actually lucky enough to be on a date with her. Sam unlocked the driver's door and climbed inside, glancing over at Becky beside him. "So, where do you wanna go?" he asked, as he fit the key into the ignition.

"Surprise me," she suggested, not having the faintest idea where she wanted to go. Only that wherever it was, she wanted to go with him. "Somewhere nosy parkers aren't gonna notice us together and gossip."

"Hmm, okay," he replied as he turned the key in the ignition. That probably meant driving a little ways out of town, but he knew of a few places they could go where there weren't likely to be many people around, especially this time of night. "Are you afraid of people seeing you with me?" he asked curiously as he pulled the Impala out of the parking lot, the engine rumbling prettily.

"No, not at all," she assured him quickly. "I just ....I don't like being the butt of people's gossiping, having them pass judgement on me. They did it to my mom, and she never felt at home here. Even after she died, they were still gossiping about her, and I can remember hearing people say that it was for the best, because she never settled in, when it was their fault she didn't." She let out a huff of angry breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Sorry. I just don't like people who talk behind other people's backs."

Sam frowned, his eyes on the road in front of him, understanding how she felt, at least about her mom passing away, though he couldn't very well tell her that. What would she say when she found out his mother hadn't even had him yet' "I'm sorry about your mom," he told her. "People are just stupid sometimes," he added, unsure what to say that might bring her some comfort.

"It keeps them safe," she sighed softly. "If people were more intelligent, they'd know what was really going on, and then they'd be prime targets. Doesn't mean I have to like them, though." She glanced at him with a small smile. "So where are you taking me" Should I loosen my underwear, or is that a bit forward?"

"It's a little chilly for sex in the car, don't you think?" he replied with a chuckle. "Besides, my dad would kill me!" Or be proud of me, he thought. He wasn't sure which. "There's a place just outside of town I like to go sometimes when I want to get away. It's quiet. It's a good place to think."

She giggled, glad she'd navigated them away from the awkwardness she had brought up regarding gossip. "Quiet is good," she agreed. "But alone isn't. I mean, sometimes I want to be alone, but more often I'm on my own because, well, I'm not very good at making friends. I'm younger than everyone I go to school with, and I'm years ahead of everyone my own age. I guess I'm kinda made to be on my own, even if I don't want to be."

"Just don't tell my dad," he warned as he hopped up onto the hood and slid his way back to claim his spot beside her. Little did he know his father and the uncle he was named after had done this very same thing countless times, cracking a few beers in the middle of nowhere and quietly watching the night sky. Sometimes they talked; sometimes they just sat side by side, lost in their own thoughts. It didn't really matter so long as they were together. Sam leaned back against the windshield, tucking his arms behind his head and nodding up at the night sky. "I love the view here."

As he settled beside her, she relaxed back, lifting her eyes to the darkened sky above them, and felt her jaw drop, truly awed by the beautiful view that spread out over the deepening night. "Oh, wow," she breathed softly, amazed that she had never thought to look up when she'd been outside at night. "That's incredible."

"It was the Ancient Greeks who first named the stars," he mused aloud quietly, finding some sort of irony in that. Most people thought the stories that had come down through the ages were nothing but legend and myth, but Sam knew better, and he wanted to share that knowledge with the one person he thought would appreciate it more than any other - if she believed him.

She smiled, inching a little closer to rest her head against his shoulder as they looked up at the sky. "I'd love to know if the myths behind some of the stars are real," she murmured. "Like if that really is a tribute to Heracles up there, or a memorial of Orion, or they're just stories the Greeks created to make sense of their sky."

He slid an arm around her as she rested her head against his shoulder, turning his head to look at her, wondering if he dared tell her the truth. "What would you say if I told you I know the answer to that?"

Her gaze slid toward him, curious and bemused at the same time. "How could you possibly know that?" she asked with a giggle. "The only way you could know that is if ..." Becky trailed off, her smile fading as that intuition made a leap. "You're in contact with the Olympians," she said wonderingly. "How" Why would they ....how?"

He watched her expression change as she sorted it out in her head, turning from curious to amused to stunned. "It's a secret. I'm not even sure if the order knows yet." But they would eventually - he was proof of that. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this," he continued with a small frown. "The world is changing, Becky. There are things going on that no one knows anything about. Do you know about the Apocalypse?"

"The Apocalypse that Wasn't, my dad calls it," she laughed softly, settling comfortably beneath his arm as they talked. "I lived through it. That was when they told me I was a legacy, because they needed all hands on deck to deal with what was going on. The hunters couldn't deal with the sudden rise in demonic activity on their own. My dad was away a lot that year, and we never knew if he was coming back. And then, suddenly, it was all over. It took them ages to find out what had happened - turns out that Lucifer and Michael had some big fight and took each other out, and that pretty much did for angels and demons alike."

Sam listened quietly while Becky told him what she knew of the Apocalypse, wondering how much he should tell her about his family's involvement in all that. It was because of that fight between Lucifer and Michael that his uncle and father had died. If it hadn't been for the Olympians dragging his father to this world from another, Sam might have never been born. How the hell was he going to explain all that without sounding crazy' "Yeah, that's pretty much what happened," he replied, seriously. "Or so I was told," he muttered mostly to himself. After all, he hadn't been born yet and hadn't witnessed that particular event.

She looked up at him curiously, wondering how he could be so sure. "You sound so certain of that," she murmured thoughtfully. "Should I ask how?"

He looked back at her, wondering how much he should tell her and more importantly, how much she was willing to believe. "If I tell you, you might think I'm crazy," he warned her, though if anyone was capable of believing him, it was probably her.

"How about you tell me what you think you can, and let me decide whether I think you're crazy or not," she suggested, storm-grey eyes sincere and unbiased, prepared to hear everything he had to tell her with an impartial viewpoint.

He knew he was taking a risk in opening up to her, but it was a calculated risk. He already knew she wasn't a demon - the holy water had proven that - and he was pretty sure she wasn't an Olympian in disguise, either. She hadn't shown him her tattoo yet, but he had a gut feeling about her. He wished he'd known her in the future, but she would have been thirty-nine years old, eighteen years older than him in his own time, old enough to be his mother. He drew a slow breath, as if taking a moment to gather both his courage and his words before sharing a story with her that most people would find ridiculously unbelievable. He started at the beginning, telling her how Sam and Dean Winchester - his own flesh and blood - had sacrificed themselves to stop the Apocalypse only to have the Olympians reassert their power resulting in a conflict between Zeus and Hades, once again with humans caught in the middle, and angels and demons taking up sides.

He told her about how his father and mother had been drawn to this world from another by the Olympians to help in the conflict, though Jo had never existed here and Dean had died. He told her about the Olympians he'd met and about how Ayden was betrothed to the God of War. He told her everything he knew, saving until last the part about himself and his sister, and how they had been brought here from the future to kill the Fates and save their parents from dying. He told her how, once that had been accomplished, he had decided to stay on to help finish what his parents had started, to help save humanity from the cruelty of Hades' tyranny, while his sister had returned home to her own time, hopefully to a happy future, though he'd never know for another twenty-one years.

The telling of the story was draining, both physically and emotionally, and at one point, he even seemed close to tears, but at last, he was finished. An hour had passed since he'd started the tale, falling silent at last, while he awaited her judgement.

"The Thules are just people," Becky agreed softly. "Of everything I've ever read about, they scare me the most." As if in reaction to that thought, she tucked herself a little tighter against him, remembering the stories her grandfather had told her about the necromancers that had arisen during the Third Reich.

"Yeah, well, I don't think you have to worry about them too much around here," he assured her, though he certainly didn't mind the fact that she had nestled closer. He wrapped an arm around her tighter, pulling her close. "You cold" We can talk in the car if you want."

"No, I ..." She raised her head, meeting his eyes with a warm, somehow intimate smile. "I'm not cold." She held that gaze for a long moment, and suddenly blinked. "Oh! I promised you a look at my tattoo!"

He held her gaze, until his eyes drifted distractedly to her lips, wondering if she'd mind if he kissed her again, but then she was distracting him again with the mention of her tattoo. "You don't have to, you know. I mean..." He blushed a little, glad it was too dark out here for her to see it. He had a vague idea where that tattoo was located and knew that if she wanted to show it to him, she was going to have to flash a little skin.

"I keep my promises," she informed him with a slightly cheeky smile, reluctantly edging back from him to stretch out a little on the hood. Pulling her coat open, she lifted her top just a little way, and folded the waist of her skirt down until he could see the duplicate of the tattoo he wore - a smaller, more feminized version, nestled low in the groove of her pelvis.

He was truly grateful for the darkness that covered his blush in the shadows of the night, not so much embarrassed as he was simply aroused at the hint of flesh she was showing him, wondering whether she had any inkling of the effect it was having on him. "Kinda weird, isn't it' That we're both....You know," he said gesturing between them.

"Both what?" Becky asked, deliberately misunderstanding for the sheer fun of it. Settling her skirt back at her waist, she grinned at him with rather sweet mischief. "Horny?"

"Not quite the word I had in mind," he said, though he didn't deny it. His gaze wandered to her waist as she replaced her skirt, and he wondered what his father would say if they christened the back seat. Would he even know" Sam cleared his throat, pushing that thought from his mind. It was a first date. You didn't make out on a first date, unless it was a one night stand, and he definitely didn't want Becky to be a one night stand.

She giggled softly. "You know, you are allowed to touch me without being prompted," she told him, smiling in recognition of his slightly hungry look. "I'm not gonna spread my legs tonight, if that's what?s worrying you. Maybe in Kansas."

"I'm not worried," he said, a little too defensively and just a little bit nervously. He knew he didn't need permission to touch her or kiss her. She'd beaten him to it twice already and he thought he should probably reciprocate. Hell, he wanted to reciprocate. He felt himself growing flushed, despite the chill in the air, wanting to take her in his arms and kiss her until they were gasping for breath. "I, uh....I'm not very..." Oh, hell. Was he Dean Winchester's son or wasn't he? He touched her face, letting his fingers drift against her cheek as slowly leaned closer.

Her eyes drifted closed as he touched her cheek, nuzzling toward the heat of his breath as he leaned toward her. There was no reason for him to think his reciprocation wouldn't be welcomed - for all her bookworm tendencies, Becky was a hot-blooded little thing, and she knew what she wanted. Him.

He had no reason to resist her and didn't even try. He wanted to kiss her as much as she seemed to want him to. They had forged some kind of connection here tonight, even though they'd only just met. To some, it might seem strange, but to Sam, it felt perfectly normal. She matched him in every way, and if he had anything to say about it, he was going to get to know Becky Hoffman a lot better. He leaned closer, his heart beating hard in his chest, pausing a moment to breathe her in before touching his lips to hers in a soft kiss that lingered a little longer than necessary.

Perhaps Aphrodite had a hand in that instant connection, or perhaps it was something that would have happened on its own. Whatever the reason, whatever the cause, they had found each other, and Becky was as close to certain as she had ever been that this was something she was not going to neglect in favor of books and old myths. Maybe Sam was the reason boys had never really interested her - maybe she'd been waiting for him on some level. At eighteen, it was early to be looking far ahead, but she'd already made her mind up here. Sam was her newest interest, and she could not foresee a time when he might grow dull. Drawn close, she answered his kiss with her own, warm and soft and eager, gentle fingers smoothing through his hair as she breathed in the unique scent that was his, and only his.

Whether it was Aphrodite or not, Sam didn't care, and though he knew the Fates no longer had any sway on their lives, he knew without a doubt that Becky was his future. He didn't need an angel or a god or a fortune-teller to tell him. He knew it in his gut and he felt it in her kiss. This was the woman he was going to marry someday, and no one - not even Hades' minions - was going to stop them.

((Give us a hint of a love story, and we're all over it! Another epic scene from the hopeless romantics - now taking bets on how long we're going to be distracted from catching up the actual story! And, of course, enormous, throbbing thanks to Sam's player!))