Dean had waited until he was sure Nim was asleep, trying to fall back asleep himself, but unable to, feeling restless, too many thoughts weighing on his mind. He didn't want her to wake from a nightmare and not find him there, promising himself he wouldn't be gone long. He left her with a kiss and a tender caress, drawing the curtains closed against the gathering darkness, pausing to look out on the night. An unexpected shudder shook him as he recalled the view outside the window of their future home, the ever-present darkness and the things that watched in the night.

That wasn't going to be their future, if he had anything to say about it. He wasn't going to allow it to happen. He'd made a deal with Death and one way or another, he was going to keep it. Quietly moving about the room, he gathered up the piles of discarded clothing, getting himself dressed, leaving the journal on the nightstand, along with his phone, wallet, Beretta, and amulet. He collected up the empty plate and beer bottles and made his way quietly to the door, a last look back at the angel he left sleeping in the bed, before stepping out into the hallway and quietly pulling the door closed.

Ellen Singer knew her husband. She knew hunters all needed a little Helper now and then. Hell, she'd even been on a few hunts herself; she could drink most under the table. But she knew when Bobby was pushing his luck, too, using the excuse of having guests to drink more than was good for him in a single evening. Still, he didn't try to stop her as she passed through the study, taking the bottle of whiskey off the desk between her husband and Bill Harvelle on her way to the kitchen.

The voices from below Dean were low and animated, hunters doing what hunters did when they got together - Bill and Bobby were trading stories of hunts they'd been on, the details of which were growing more and more exaggerated as the evening wore on. A radio was playing golden oldies in the kitchen, a calmer backdrop to Ellen putting her home to rights before settling herself in for the evening, listening with half-an-ear to the wildly fictional exploits being tossed back and forth in the next room.

Dean overheard the voices on his way down the stairs, uncharacteristically padding along quietly wearing only socks on his feet, purposely avoiding the chatter from the study, not really feeling like swapping hunting stories with Bill and Bobby as they tried to one-up each other. The kitchen was his destination, planning on dropping off the dirty dishes before retreating back up the stairs, maybe if he was lucky with a cup of coffee in tow, intent on reading as much of the journal as he could.

What he found in the kitchen was Ellen, of course. She seemed to know he was there just before he stepped into view, her eyes already trained on him before he rounded the wall as she wiped the table down. "You two had enough to eat?" she asked Dean almost before he had a chance to register who he was walking in on.

Something of a rhetorical question when it came to Dean. Like his appetite for sex, his appetite for food was never really satisfied, but he had to admit he was feeling mostly sated. "Yeah, thanks," he replied, freezing in the doorway as he rounded the corner and she came into view, faced with a woman who seemed to know him far better than he knew her.

She straightened up, one hand coming to rest on her hip as she leaned on the cloth against the tabletop. Chocolate dark eyes that were only a shade lighter than Nim's studied Dean for a long moment, disconcertingly shrewd as her lips pursed into an understanding smile. "You want a drink?" she offered in a lower voice, seeing the discomfort in him. The Dean she remembered had been a little scared of her at times, yes, but he'd never stood frozen in a doorway not knowing what to say. "Figure you've got a few things need sayin'."

He wasn't sure what kind of drink she was offering exactly. Back home, he'd have been right there with Bill and Bobby enjoying a little Hunter's Helper, but for some reason, ever since dropping into the alley behind the Landing, he had rarely felt the need. "I'll take some coffee, if you've got it," he told her, gathering enough courage to step past the threshold and into the kitchen, moving to the sink to drop off the plates and bottles.

Her brows rose, the surprise palpable as she watched him brave the dangers of her kitchen. "Coffee, huh' Guess Bobby wasn't talking out of his a$$ when he said you weren't from around here." She patted the back of the chair beside her, ignoring a sudden round of filthy laughter from the next room. "Set yourself down there, kid." Pulling a pair of cups from one of the overhead cupboards, she flicked the coffee pot on, turning to watch him quietly.

He shrugged his shoulders as he set the dishes in the sink, feeling her eyes on him, knowing without seeing that she was watching him, quietly observing him for any nuances. "I'm not the Dean that killed his brother to save the world from the Apocalypse, if that's what you mean." It came out a little more bitter than he'd intended, still feeling a raw sense of shock and grief over his brother's death, though he was doing his best not to dwell on it.

That earned him a look he had no doubt thought he would never see again. "Don't you pull that attitude on me," she warned him, pointing at the chair a little more firmly. "My Winchester boys went through hell together trying to stop the Apocalypse, tore 'em right up. Don't you judge a man you've never been just 'cause you don't think you could've done it." For all that it was a scolding, however, there was little fire in Ellen's voice, no anger in her eyes. Just pain at a long-held loss, the natural instinct to defend someone who had meant a great deal to her rising to the fore, and a wise understanding that none of this could possibly be any harder for her than it was for the impossibility standing in her kitchen.

He clenched his jaw at the scolding, not wanting to start an argument with her, but he was feeling as much grief at Sam's loss as she was, if not more. "Just stating a fact," he replied bluntly, pulling the chair out and dropping into it. "We did things different," he pointed out, not that it mattered. It wouldn't change what had happened here.

"So I'm told," she agreed, the fire softening from her voice once again. "I'm not lookin' to argue, Dean. You're here. Just 'cause you don't know me don't mean I'm not going to worry about you." She turned back to the coffee pot, pouring the newly brewed liquid into the two cups. "How're you taking this?"

"I didn't say I didn't know you, Ellen," he remarked, turning to watch her as she turned her back to him to pour two cups of coffee. "Just not the you that's Bobby's wife. The Ellen I knew back home is..." He trailed off, wondering if he'd gone too far, said too much too soon. "How do I take my coffee" You tell me," he challenged.

She smiled at the news that her place in Dean's life was different in another reality, finding it oddly comforting that she still did, at least, have a place there. The challenge made her familiar, knowing smirk rise on her lips. "You sassin' me?" she chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Dean I remember took it black and sweet."

His expression changed, apprehension turning to confusion at her unexpected reaction to his little tidbit of news. "She doesn't want you to know," he continued. "Probably thinks it's better that way. You..." He trailed off again, the words dying on his lips as the memory of her death - of both their deaths - seemed to haunt him still. He wondered if the death of his counterpart haunted her.

"Look, I'm not very good at this sort of thing, so I'm just gonna say it. Where I come from, you're dead. So is she. So is Bobby and Bill and just about anyone else you can think of. It's just me and Sam, and....I don't know why I was chosen to be here. Everyone seems to think I'm some kind of hero or legend or something. I'm not a hero, Ellen. You and Jo and Bobby are the heroes. I'm just....For whatever reason, I was given a second chance. Sammy's not here. Sammy's..." He swallowed hard, trying not to let the raw emotion of the moment overwhelm him.

The comical cast to her expression fled as she listened, taking in the death toll he had lived through over the years. The shock of hearing of her own death and the death of her daughter was nothing to the shock of knowing that in that other world, Bobby was gone, too. And here, in front of her, was a man so like one of the young men she'd lost two years ago, struggling with the knowledge that here and now his brother would never be again. Her hands reached out, taking one of his between her palms, squeezing gently.

"My Dean and Sam, they died heroes," she told him, wetness glistening in her eyes as she held his gaze. "Like you say your Ellen and Bobby did. I'm not the Ellen you knew, you're not the Dean I knew. I'm no more a hero than you are. That don't mean we're not allowed to grieve for each other, if the hurt strikes." Her hand patted his firmly, lifting up to press a slightly shaken kiss to the back of his hand. "Whatever reason, we all got this second chance. I aim to keep you close this time."

He hadn't meant to ruin the mood, to chase the levity from her, but he needed her to understand the gravity of what had happened, not only for his sake, but mostly for Nim's, for everyone involved. He had chosen to trust her, to open himself up to her, to believe that whatever relationship she'd had with the Dean she'd known would allow her to trust and believe in him. But he'd never expected this reaction from her, this show of compassion, sympathy, love even, almost as if she thought of him as a son, and he found his own eyes tearing up, despite his efforts to subdue his own emotions.

"It's Nim you need to keep close. It's her life that's in danger. She's the one that matters," he told her, unable to keep the emotion from his voice, no matter how hard he tried. I don't matter, he thought to himself, though he knew he mattered to someone and had promised that someone he wouldn't do anything stupid to put his own life in danger.

"She ain't the only one." One hand left the fervent squeeze about his palm to reach across, cupping to his neck with firm, unspoken maternity. "Don't matter that in your "back home", she was my daughter. What matters is that she's your girl. Like I said, that makes her family, no matter what. If you go and do somethin' stupid, I'll find a way to thrash you for it, you mark me. You got a whole lotta family here, Dean, and we ain't fixin' to lose you again. And when I say you ....I mean you and that little scrap of woman you're in love with." She squeezed her fingers to his neck, warm and uncompromising, rising to her feet to press a kiss to his forehead, as protective and loving as any she could have bestowed on a natural child of her own.

It wasn't often that he was struck dumb, but this was one of those rare moments. He watched mutely as she scolded him in a very motherly way, realizing how much the Dean she known must have meant to her, having to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat at the thought of her thinking of him as a son. "You and Bobby..." he started, dangerously close to tears, as she pressed a kiss against his forehead. He turned his eyes back to the coffee cup that was still clutched between his hands, though he had yet to drink any of it, struggling to retain his composure, though the shock of Ellen's presence was almost too much to bear.

She sat herself down once again, unconsciously drawing her chair closer as she saw his struggle for composure. Ellen wasn't exactly in full control herself, but she'd never been one for open displays of anything that might hurt more than it healed. Sadness and grief were best indulged in private, in her opinion. So the eyes that watched Dean were wet with tears that weren't going to fall, the hand holding his shook just a little to betray the force of emotion rocketing through her, the jaw was clenched just a little tighter than it should be. "What about us, Dean?"

"I'm-I'm not him, Ellen," he said uncertainly as his gaze drifted to their clasped hands. This was a side of Ellen he'd never seen before, except with regard to Jo - the same fierce protectiveness he'd always felt for Sam. Was he betraying his brother by being here, by accepting his place in this world, by allowing himself to have a second chance" He shook his head, once again having trouble putting his thoughts into words. "What-what was I like?" he asked, chancing a glance at her again, not really needing to know what he was like, but what he had meant to her and to Bobby.

Strange though it seemed, it was the right question to draw her out of her own grief, bringing the well remembered smile to her face again. "He was a damn fool kid who kept puttin' himself in harm's way for the people he loved," she told him, the tone matter-of-fact, fond, and gently disapproving all at once. "You and Sam ....your daddy used to leave you with Bobby when we were just startin' out together." A quiet laugh broke from her lips for a moment. "I remember a time when you must've been about ten. First night I stayed here when you two were in the place, and there was the mother of all thunderstorms. Great cracks of lightning, thunder that shook the whole place, and in the middle of all that, I wake up to find your little brother curled up in the bed with me and Bobby."

Her smile was warm and fond as she looked at him. "But what I remember best is the next crack of thunder bringing you scurryin' in, trying to pretend it was nothing, that you just wanted to see where Sammy was. Stubborn little cuss, even then - you wouldn't give in and get in with us until Bobby threatened to move your bed into the same room. You were such an independent boy, always have been. But you know what? When I woke up next morning, you were still there, all wrapped up around Sam and all cuddled up to us, too." Her hand touched his cheek affectionately. "I never had children of my own, but I always said if I'd had boys, I'd want them to be just like you."

Struggling to maintain his composure as Ellen shared that memory, laying out the scene so that Dean could almost see it in his head, he clenched his jaw, swallowing down the tears that were still threatening, green eyes stormy with emotion. Family had always been the most important thing to Dean, and he almost envied his former self for having had both a mother and father figure in his life, though in the end, it hadn't saved him. He'd said yes to Michael, despite this support system, and Dean couldn't quite figure out why. Bobby had been less than honest with his explanations thus far, but that didn't really surprise Dean. Bobby had given him only as much information as Dean had needed or been able to absorb at the time. Now that the truth was unfolding, Dean had no choice but to face it, absorb it, try to understand it, and accept it.

After a moment, he wiped a hand across his eyes, though it did little to stem the tide of emotion that was rising up inside him. He was only starting to understand what he might have meant to Ellen and to Bobby, but it wasn't him they'd loved or missed - the Dean they'd loved was dead. His lips moved slowly, his voice gruff with barely repressed emotion. "Why..." he stammered. "Why'd I say yes to Michael" Why'd I kill Sam?" he asked, needing to know the answer to this question perhaps more than any other, unable to hide the pain and the grief from the one person other than Nim who could most likely see right through him.

He wiped the towel across his face to dry the mess of his tears, while she went in search of the family photos. Most of his own family's photos had burned in the fire, though a few had been rescued and tucked away in a safe place back home. He smirked at the thought of Apollo having his picture taken and wondered what the god would think of that. His head swivelled toward Ellen as she returned to the kitchen, and he finally picked up his cup of coffee to take a sip, grateful for its warmth and the caffeine that would steel his nerves and keep him awake and alert and going for a few more hours. Lowering the cup, he looked to the photograph, recognizing with another wrench of pain the faces before him - all but one.

His gaze settled on the familiar yet unfamilar face of the unknown girl in the photograph - a sister he'd never known. He'd expected her to maybe look a little like Adam, but the harder he looked at her, the more she looked like a combination of himself and Sam. She was young, younger than he'd expected her to be, with a face that looked far too sweet, far too innocent. Dean knew just from the photograph that he'd have done everything in his power to protect her. He saw a little of himself in her, but it was the eyes that really drew his attention, so shockingly familiar.

"She's young," he said as he reached for the photograph to take a closer look. Was I ever that young" he wondered to himself. He'd felt old for so long, almost as if he'd been born that way.

Ellen watched him studying the picture, smiling as the same flicker of emotions crossed his face that she recalled seeing the first time the Dean she'd known had laid eyes on his little sister, half-blood or not. "She was nineteen when that was taken," she told him, lifting her own coffee cup to her lips. "She'll be twenty-two in September. It was the strangest thing - she called your daddy's old phone in a mess, Bobby drove all night to fetch her. Minute she sat down with you two, no more tears. She only knew you a few weeks, but she grieved just as hard as we did." Ellen squeezed his forearm, watching his expression as she spoke. "We keep an eye. Even helped her move herself to Stanford when she got in."

His gaze remained fixed on that photograph, almost wishing he could reach through the frame and touch his sister, make her come to life, but he'd promised himself to leave Ayden out of it, knowing what had happened to her in the future. "Stanford?" he repeated, tearing his eyes away from the photo when she touched him, drawing his attention back to the present. "She's at Stanford?" he asked, not having been told that or having gleaned that information from the journal yet. So, she wasn't a hunter. That was a relief, anyway.

"Yeah, studyin' medicine," Ellen told him, impressed despite herself. "Gonna have a doctor in the family." She grinned, patting his arm gently. "Sam told her about Stanford, about the good times he had there. She figured, after you were gone, that gettin' there was the next best thing to being close to her brothers; top of the class, so I hear, full ride."

A wistful expression flickered over his face as he studied the photograph, rubbing the pad of a thumb against the wooden frame, quietly absorbing all she was telling him. He somehow knew his father would be proud of her, though he wasn't sure how well she'd known him. So, at least one of them had escaped this life to make a life of their own. That knowledge filled him with a sense of both regret and relief, wondering what he'd have done with his own life if he'd had the chance. "I don't want her involved in this, Ellen. It's too dangerous."

Despite what he wanted, he knew that decision wasn't completely up to him. If Hades found out she existed, her life might be in danger just because of who she was to him. He'd yet to tell them all what was going on, only giving them bits and pieces, but once Brian arrived, he'd make sure they knew everything that he knew.

"Like I said, we keep an eye," Ellen assured him quietly. "Minute something even looks like it's goin' after her, she'll be back here. But she doesn't go by Winchester, and she doesn't hunt. She doesn't even call, just like we told her to. If something goes for her, it's more like to be coincidence than anything." Brown eyes locked on his solemn with understanding. "I'm not fixing to tell her you're back, either. Are you?"

He jerked his head up to meet the solemn gaze with one of his own as he absorbed her question and everything it implied. It took no time at all to answer, knowing without a doubt that were Ayden to know he was alive, she'd want to see him, and that would put her life in jeopardy. "No," he replied, heart aching as he looked back at the photograph of a sister he might never know. "No, it's better this way. Better for her to think I'm dead. Safer. At least, for now."

"For now," she agreed, nodding. "But you know where she is, and you know what she's doin'. That's what you needed. That girl's the biggest success any of us have had, so far. Touched the dark and walked right through, thanks to you boys." She leaned forward onto her forearms, wrapping her hands about her coffee cup as she looked into the black beverage, her gaze rising to him again. "So ....let's us deal with what we got here. Your girl's not okay, you say. What's wrong?"

He didn't really feel like a hero, where Ayden was concerned. It hadn't been him who had saved her, though he knew that, given the choice, he'd have done the same thing. He set the photograph on the table and turned his attention back to the woman beside him, who he felt closer to at this moment than he ever had before. "Ellen, Nim and I..." There was something else she needed to know, now that they'd gotten Ayden out of the way. He'd told Nim he wouldn't share any of the story until Brian arrived, but there were things Ellen needed to know about the daughter she'd never known and about himself. "We have a son in the future." He'd answer her question, but in his own time, in his own roundabout way.

There was a pause as Ellen closed her eyes, absorbing the thump that came with his casual mention of something that hadn't even been suggested to anyone but Nim yet. She cleared her throat. "Do I want to know how you know about your future children?" she asked pointedly, the softness in her face tempered by the no-nonsense look rising in her eyes. She held his gaze thoughtfully before shaking her head. "Never mind that for now, I'm guessing it'll all come out tomorrow. So, a son. What's that got to do with her feelin' all alone here?"

That small but very important detail out of the way, somehow needing her to know this even before Bobby or Brian did, he moved on to her question, his thoughts turning back to the reason he was here in the first place - Nimue. The explanation, however, was not an easy one, and he had no way of knowing how much she already knew. He shrugged as he searched for the right words to explain once again, his hands moving to wrap themselves around the coffee mug. "She has no memory of her life before she got here, except for nightmares. I'm the only thing she remembers, and she died because of me. Both of you did." He waited for her to absorb this before continuing, wondering if she'd blame him or if she'd simply accept it and move on.

Ellen's brow rose, daring him to repeat himself and take the blame. "I am a grown woman, Dean Winchester. Whatever I did, you can be damn sure you never made that choice for me. So get over it." That was it, no sympathy, no lingering on the guilt and blame he laid on himself. She just addressed the issue and moved on. "I know Nimue's got no memory, I know she's locked onto you because of something Bobby doesn't have words for. You keep talkin', I'm not on the same page yet."

He wasn't quite sure if that was it or not. Maybe it was part of it, but he thought it probably went a lot deeper than that. "She's been through hell, Ellen." He sighed heavily, wondering if his being here did her more harm than good, but if either Nim or Ellen knew what he was thinking, he knew they'd more than likely kick his a$$. He wasn't sure how much Bobby had told her, but he assumed she knew some of it. "I'm not the target, Ellen. It's her life that's in danger, not mine. They're trying to kill her because of me."

"Oh, I think she's probably got a few things about her they don't like that's got nothin' to do with you," Ellen told him firmly. "She got brought across, too, didn't she" Whole world don't revolve around you, kid." She sighed with him, rubbing at her neck as she considered what she knew and what she didn't. "So she's top of the list; that's a shock to the system right there. I heard you two were hunting a Witschatska a few weeks back" You take time to deal with her first hunt away from Chicago and the Landing, or did you just press straight on?"

"Ellen, she's top of the list because of me. Because Aphrodite did some kind of mumbo jumbo that brought her over instead of Sam. Don't you get it' They think that if they kill her, I'll give up, only they're wrong." He blinked and leaned back as she turned the tables on him. "Deal with her first hunt?" he echoed, unsure what she meant by that. "What do you mean' Take a few days to hunker down and lick our wounds?"

"For Chrissakes, Dean, don't you remember your first hunt away from your daddy?" Ellen demanded, ignoring his self-pitying beginning to focus on their initial conversation topic. "You always been c*cky, but I remember a kid who came back here all shaken up and needing someone just to listen, just to tell him that it's okay to be scared, that it don't mean you're anythin' less than anyone else. Did you even think that maybe she might need a day or two' She sure as hell isn't gonna say she needs it. I haven't met one hunter who would. What did you do, straight after that hunt?"

He frowned, feeling the weight of guilt settle in on him again. "We went to Lawrence," he replied, feeling like a selfish ass. Had he rushed her" Had he pushed her too hard" Should they have taken more time off after the hunt in Wichita before heading to Lawrence" He turned to stare at his coffee again, hands wrapped around the now cold cup. Had he been in such a hurry to get to Lawrence that he'd been blind to her needs"

"Don't you do that," Ellen snapped at him, one hand cupping under his chin to lift his head, her eyes locking to his with that no-nonsense attitude in place once again. "Don't you take an excuse to get mopey on me. So you screwed up a little. If it had wailed on her too much, she'd have gone runnin' straight back to Brian. I know what you're dealing with right now, and you just gotta be there. She's catching up with herself, that's all. She'll get over it."

They had taken a little time off, but maybe it hadn't been enough. Had he been so lost in his own grief that he hadn't read her right' Had he not been attentive enough, comforting enough, loving enough' "I..." He started, furrowing his brows, remembering all his other failed relationships. He'd tried to be honest with Cassie, and she hadn't believed him. He'd tried to protect Lisa and Ben, and she'd pushed him away. Jo had been the only one who'd ever understood him, it seemed. Jo, Nim, it was all the same to him.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked, looking about as clueless as he felt. His gaze forced to meet hers, all his self-assurance vanished, looking lost and bewildered and completely uncertain what to do next.

She relaxed, dropping her hand from his jaw as a faint laugh took her wry expression to a smile. "Sweetie, I know it's hard, knowing someone you love's hurting and not knowing what to do," she commiserated with him. "But this is just how it goes. You need to get her to talk about it. Even if all she does is go over what you already know, it'll help her." Ellen sighed, glancing at the window. "Or you can wait for Brian to get here, and he'll do it. But I'm thinkin' it's you needs to know how to do it, and the only way you're gonna get comfortable with it is by learning how to get your girl to talk. I'll bet she's good at getting talk out of you, ain't she?"

He frowned again, shrugging his shoulders lightly. Nim was one of a handful of people who could get him to talk. Apparently, Ellen was proving to be another. "What am I supposed to say' I'm-I'm not very good at this sort of thing." Still, he'd managed to comfort the Nim of the future, or so he thought. Why were things different here"

"I can only tell you what I've had work in the past, sweetie," she told him gently. "Just tell her what I told you, that first time." It took a moment for her to remember that he didn't actually know what she'd said, because it hadn't been him. "That she's allowed to be scared but not to run away, she's allowed to regret things she's done but not hold the blame close. And that you're not going to turn around and walk away, just because she's human. That you're not disappointed in her for feelin' what she feels. Give it time, and you won't need to comfort her so much after a hunt. But she's young in The Life right now. Hell, with only three years of memory in mind, she's young anyway. It's gonna take her a while to be able to shrug off the mistakes and the guilt as easy as we do."

He listened quietly to what she had to say, taking it all in, committing it to memory. She made it sound so easy, but he wasn't so sure. Apparently, she'd been there for the Dean of this world, and he felt a little envious of that fact. "I'm not gonna leave her," he reiterated what she'd already said. "I..." He hesitated a moment, not having admitted what he was feeling to anyone else so far but Nim. "I love her," he told her quietly, averting his gaze, not because he was ashamed to admit it, but because he felt the depths of his emotions threatening again.

Hearing him say those words brought a sudden shock of tears to Ellen's eyes. She could remember a time when her Dean had insisted that he had never been in love, that he would never be in love. It was nothing short of wonderful to hear him admit to such a feeling in the wake of his return. "Then it don't really matter what you say," she assured him fondly, stroking her fingers against his cheek in her own uniquely affectionate way. "Love'll get you through anything, so long as you don't choke up and get silent on each other."

"Like you love Bobby?" he asked quietly, meeting her gaze again, wondering about that. He'd been to a reality where she and Bobby had been together, and he thought they'd been good together. He was, in fact, happy to see them together again, as much of a shock as it had been at first. He smiled faintly. "I bet there's a story there to tell," he teased her a little, wondering what else he didn't know about this reality.

She held his gaze for a moment, her expression calm and smiling, the tenderness in her face all for the merest mention of Bobby. "Maybe I should let him tell you how I kicked his a$$ up the aisle," she threatened warmly, leaning onto her forearms once again. "Yes, I love him. He's two sheets to the wind without me, so I guess there's love on his side, too." Like she didn't know how her husband felt about her.

He chuckled, perhaps the first real laugh since he'd sat down at the table to talk to her. "I'd like to have seen that," he grinned, seeming to loosen up and relax a little now that he was out of the hotseat and talking about something that wasn't so dire. "So, how'd it happen?" he asked, leaning forward, eyes bright with interest.

The response was not what he had come to expect from his Nim. She was always the optimist; calm and self-aware and refusing to give into any kind of doubt. Except now, with every jolt and hit of the past month coming home to roost and laying her open to the slightest show of concern. "But I make so many mistakes," she said softly, her lips trembling with the effort of not letting the tears out again. "I don't want you to have to look after me every minute of every day, Dean, I just ....I got myself hurt in Wichita, and I didn't know how to tell you how much that shook me up, and you needed me to be the strong one in Lawrence ..."

She trailed off, lowering her eyes to where her fingers curled against his chest. "And last night was the single most terrifying night of my life. I thought I'd lost you, and I thought I was going to die, and then you were there again and everything was fine, and it was a bad time to feel all that. God, I feel like such an idiot," she added in a low mutter, wondering why she was even telling him all this. He already knew it, didn't he"

He listened to her intently, hearing her out, letting her tell him whatever it was that was weighing on her mind, whatever she needed to say. He tenderly stroked her cheek while she spoke, silently reassuring her and reminding her that he was right there, that he wasn't going anywhere and wasn't afraid of anything she had to tell him. "We all make mistakes, Nim. I've made plenty, but you learn from them and move on."

He brushed a thumb against her cheek as he saw the tears threatening, unafraid of them, almost relieved she'd finally given in to them, let herself feel whatever it was she was feeling. "You're not alone. Not anymore. We're in this together. We're here for each other. That's what this is all about, baby. It's not about you or me anymore. It's about us." He tipped her chin up to meet his gaze, pushing past his own feelings of guilt and worry to be there for her, like she'd been there for him. "You're not an idiot, Nim. You're human. You've been through hell the last few days. I'd be worried if you weren't scared, but I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

She was in control enough now to keep herself from breaking down again, but a single tear rolled down her cheek to wet his thumb as he stroked her skin, swallowing hard past the thick lump formed in her throat. "I'm sorry," she whispered, still fighting the urge for tears and somehow still winning. "I know you're not going anywhere, I promise I never thought you would. I love you so much..."

She cut herself off by pressing close once again, tucking her face against his neck, wrapping her arms around his waist. And it was a good thing. Despite the conflict and confusion in her emotions, the turmoil that fuelled this release, she was feeling it. Better, she was letting Dean see her fall apart and put herself back together again, just as Ellen had said she needed to. It was all about time, and love, and learning how to be vulnerable, right to her core, for him.

"I'm not afraid of loving you, Nimue," he reassured her, perhaps for the first time putting it in the way, surprising even himself with the raw honesty of the statement and the force of feeling behind it. "You have nothing to apologize for," he continued, encircling her in his embrace once again, holding her close for as long as she needed him. Whatever Ellen had been going to share with him earlier would have to wait. Nimue came first and foremost, always. "You're never going to disappoint me. Ever. I've seen the future, Nim. You're my future."

Again, it was a long time before she calmed, but this time, she didn't let go until she was all cried out. There was something of everything in those tears, the fear and embarrassment and grief combining with love and trust and hope, pouring out of her during the long minutes that exposed her soul to him. The promise that she was his future drew her gently from the darkness of her harbored guilt before it could swallow her whole, her body relaxing finally without even a hint of tension in his arms, allowing the coolness of the air on her naked skin to chill her just a little. Slowly, she lifted her head, showing him clear, loving eyes that had lost the dull pallor of hidden fears. "When can we do it?" she asked softly, determination to make that future reality sooner rather than later fierce in her voice. "How soon?"

He held her patiently while she cried herself out, whispering quiet, comforting words of love and reassurance, rubbing her back now and then to try and soothe her and remind her he was right there and wasn't going anywhere. He made no apologies for his own behavior, for the well of grief he'd been drowning in since he'd arrived. It was water under the bridge, over, done with, at least, for now. The whole point of being together was being there for each other, sharing not only the laughter but the tears and everything in between. Maybe that was what had gone wrong with his relationships in the past, but it was time to learn from his mistakes, just as he'd told her, and move on. He arched a brow at her question, looking down into her face, so young and so innocent looking in the moonlight. "To get married?" he asked, curiously.

"No, to test out the Immaculate Conception theory," she drawled with impish sarcasm, proving with just one sentence that she was close to being herself once again. Her hand rose to trail fingertips along his jaw once again as her smile softened, lips touching his lovingly. "Yes, to get married. All our family will be here. Like you said, what better time?"

He smirked, "We could, but it would be more fun to do things the old fashioned way, don't you think?" He quieted while she kissed him, a soft, brief, but loving kiss. "Pick a date and I'll be there." He chuckled at his own statement. "I kind of have to be there."

"Why do I have to pick the date?" she protested with a low giggle, enjoying the resumption of her warm good humor in the face of his loveable snarky self. "Wait ....the old-fashioned way?" She pulled a face at him. "You want a traditional wedding" In a church?"

There was that smirk again as she misunderstood his comment. "I was talking about the missionary position, but if you want a big white wedding, we can do that." And there he was possibly misunderstanding her right back. He frowned a moment as he considered a church wedding, wondering if that was important.

She snorted with laughter, realizing her mistake as her arms wound about his neck. "Dude, if you want me in a white dress at an altar, you can whistle for it," she informed him with a cheeky smile. "We've got gods of our own on call, remember" We can always just invite one of them to make something up and declare us married, but I kinda like the idea of getting you legally attached to me." Her grin deepened teasingly as the tip of her nose circled his.

He smiled as her nose brushed against his, and he combed his fingers through her hair. "Trying to make an honest man of me, huh' Not afraid I'm gonna get cold feet the day of the wedding?" He was teasing, having absolutely no doubts about the thought of marrying her.

"Not if I sic Brian on you," she teased him right back again, her voice throbbing with barely suppressed laughter at the thought of Dean being marched at gunpoint up the aisle. "Anyway, there's no one more honest than you. Getting married might actually make you a little dishonest with all that flirting you wave around."

He pushed off a lean against the door to help her retrieve her clothes, torn between standing guard and getting laid again, but the clock was ticking. In a pinch, he only needed ten minutes, but he thought better of it, forcing his mind out of the gutter to face the task ahead. "Says who' I can take care of myself," he replied, slightly defensively. Been doing it since I was a kid, he thought to himself. Taking care of everyone else, too. He bent over to snatch a few items of discarded clothing off the floor as he crossed the room to hand them to her.

"Yeah, but you don't have to," she pointed out, drawing her underwear on before turning to take the pieces from his hands with a smile. "There's nothing wrong with letting other people take care of you every once in a while." She pulled her tank on over her head, stepping close to rise up on her toes, touching a fond kiss to the corner of his mouth, swiping her thumb over his cheek with a smile. "And I think Ellen might break you if you tried to stop her."

He smiled faintly as she offered him a reassuring kiss before going over to the window to take a peek outside, while she got herself dressed. It was still dark - the darkest part of the night, it seemed, darkest just before the dawn - and his thoughts drifted back to that endless night that threatened their future, clenching his jaw in silent determination to avoid that, at all costs. "Old habits are hard to break," he muttered quietly, looking out on the night. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed the two of them looking after him, despite his complaints. Bobby had a habit of doing it, too, and while it irritated him, he knew it was only because the man cared. "I just don't want to disappoint them," he admitted quietly. Or you, he added wordlessly.

She looked up from where she was tossing their unwashed clothes into a single duffle, her only set of clean already on her person. "You just don't get it, do you?" she asked very quietly, straightening to step over to him, barefoot against the cool boards of the floor. "No matter what you do, you can't disappoint anyone who loves you. Not for long. And don't you dare try and tell me it's not you they love, or I'll break you."

He turned to face her, letting the curtains fall closed behind him, seeing the look on her face that warned him not to argue. "I'm not him, Nim. I'm not that Dean. I'm just a replacement." If he followed that logic, then Bobby wasn't the same Bobby he'd loved and neither was Ellen, but he was just as happy to have them back anyway. The only real constant in his life was standing right in front of him. "Maybe it shouldn't matter, but it does. I don't share the same memories they do. They thought I was dead. Ayden thinks I'm dead." He frowned worriedly at the thought of a sister he never knew.

He saw the warning, and he still argued. Nim rolled her eyes, shaking her head at his stubbornness. "You know what? Enough." One hand gave him a tug away from the window, the other pointed to the bed. "Sit. Now."

He furrowed his brows at her, confused, wondering what he'd done wrong. He was just that stubborn and just that clueless. "What?" he asked, as he was tugged away from the window. "It's the truth!" he exclaimed, as he glanced at the bed, his frown turning to a smirk. "You gonna give me a lecture or a lap dance" I wouldn't recommend the latter. I'm on my last pair of jeans."

Her brows rose, the warning this time definitely not at all subtle. "Seriously' Don't make me tell you again." She gave him a push toward the bed, ignoring his smirk for what it was - an attempt to distract her from what was coming whether he liked it or not. "The double standard. It's gotta stop."

"Double standard?" he echoed, genuinely confused, as he stumbled backwards toward the bed. "What double standard" I don't know what you're talking about." He was right about one thing - old habits were hard to break, and he'd been lost in his own pain and confusion for so long, sometimes it was hard to see the forest from the trees.

"You'd rather I called it hypocrisy?" Nim asked him pointedly, laying her hands on her hips as she advanced on him, so close he pretty much had no choice but to sit down or fall down. "Everyone here ....Bobby, Ellen, everyone you remember ....It's okay for you to replace the people you love in your memory with the people they are here, but it's not okay for them to do the same" What the hell is wrong with you?"

She threw her hands up, shaking her head. "Dean, I get that it's hard, believe me, I do. But these people love you. You, Dean. They're not replacing a memory; they're making you a part of their hearts, and you're trying to say that you don't want that' Or what, you don't deserve it' What the hell has it got to do with you what they do with their hearts" You really think it's okay to stand there and rip yourself into little pieces in front of everyone who loves you, you think we don't see how much it hurts you?"

He dropped back onto the bed, looking up at her, seeing a little of her future self in her - the self-assured confidence, the assertiveness, the no-nonsense way she came straight to the point. "I'm not...." He shook his head, in a weak attempt to disagree with her, the old feelings of defensiveness flaring up inside him, but quickly ebbing away, as he listened to what she had to say. Love" The word echoed in his mind. When had he ever heard that word from anyone" He'd heard it once from Sam, but Sam had been so doped up at the time, Dean hadn't trusted his own ears. Just once, he'd have liked to have heard it from his own father's lips, but it was too late for that. His mother must have told him she loved him, but it was too long ago for him to remember.

Why did the words matter so much' Why was he having trouble accepting their love, even though he had no trouble loving them in return" He felt the tears prickling at his eyes again, but he fought it off. If only he could get angry, then maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad. Or he could choose to accept their love and affection, like he had Nim's, and make a life for himself here. Wasn't that the point of all this, after all" "I'm..." he trailed off once again, shaking his head. I'm not worthy. I haven't done anything to earn their love. I'm just a carbon copy of someone they loved. I'm not the real thing.

He paused a moment to sort through the conflicted feelings that were tangled up inside him. "I do want it," he admitted, his voice betraying his feelings. I want it so bad it hurts.

"So stop putting walls up, you dumb bastard." Perhaps that was a little harsh, but Nim was beginning to realize that as much as she wanted to treat him gently, Dean needed a short sharp shock more than he needed to be handled with care. She sighed softly, moving to drop down onto the bed beside him. "Look, Dean ....do you feel any differently about those people down there than you do about your memories of them from back home?" she asked a little more gently. Perhaps it was easier for her, with no memories to cloud the issue, but she wasn't the priority here. Dean was the bridge between all of them; he needed to be on the right page. He needed to stop beating himself up.

He visibly flinched when she lashed out at him, as if she'd struck him with a blow, jaw clenching, anger rising. His initial reaction was rage, defensiveness, throwing up the walls that held the world at a distance, the way he had all his life, to keep the pain at bay, but it wasn't his father lashing out at him this time, calling him names, telling him how stupid he was being, how sloppy, how careless. It was Nim, trying to get through to him anyway she could, even if it took using harsh words to get his attention. The anger ebbed slowly away, along with the defensiveness. "Oh, I see," he said, frowning, finally getting her point.

"You think I ever talked about any of this to Sam, to Bobby?" he continued, needing her to understand. "I learned a long time ago to suck it up and deal with my feelings on my own." He said the word feelings as if it was something to disdain, something to avoid. Real men don't show their feelings, he'd been taught, more by example than anything else. "But things are different now. You..." He gestured toward her with the journal. "Nim, you are helping, more than you can ever know."

He took a hesitant step toward her, not wanting her to beat herself up when she was hurting as much, if not more than he was. "And....I want to help you, too. I know I'm a little lost sometimes, but you found me, Nim. We found each other."

There was a moment of silence as she nodded, chewing on her lip. "I guess I need to grow up," the small woman said finally, admitting to something that had been weighing on her mind for weeks now. "Stop trying to make a quick fix, right' I'm not the most patient person in the world, Dean. I don't even have the patience to deal with myself." Another sigh rushed from her lips. "Look, I know I'm a bit of a mess right now. I know you're pretty much the same. But it doesn't ....it doesn't really matter. Just having you close heals up wounds I didn't even know I had. I just guess that the healing process is hurting more than I expected."

Okay, so maybe Aphrodite had actually been the one to blame for them coming together, but had there not been any feelings there to build on, they wouldn't have gotten even this far. He smiled a little as she finally admitted some weakness she found in herself, though he found it a strength, wishing he could be more like her. He closed the distance between them, reaching for her hand, though she had seemed reluctant for some reason to reach for his, bridging the gap. "I'm always gonna be here for you. Promise. We're healing each other. We're gonna be okay, Nimue, so long as we're together."

To Dean, family was everything, but like Bobby had said, family didn't end with blood. Family wasn't just those born under the same roof, family was all those in your inner circle you loved and cared about, and this lovely young woman before him was at the very top of that list.

Her hand wound with his, reluctant as she had been to touch only moments before, dark eyes watching as their calloused fingertips brushed and gripped as naturally as though they'd been born to touch just like this. A small smile touched her face, cracking the burdened mask to let the unquenchable spark of optimism shine through again. "God, I'm such a girl," she complained suddenly, stepping forward to thump her face into his chest, breathing out hot through his shirt. "I am never going to say this again, but ....kinda jealous of you and Ellen. And scared of her. What if she doesn't like me?" She drew her face back, rolling her eyes at the plaintive, childish confession. "Now I sound about six."

One arm circled her waist as she buried her face in the front of his shirt, chuckling a little at her remark. "It's a good thing you are because it would be pretty weird if you were a guy," he teased, a small smirk on his face, turning serious at her mention of Ellen and the admitted doubts and jealousy he hadn't been aware of. He rested his chin against the top of her head, needing no time at all to form an answer. "Nothing to be jealous about. She's gonna love you. Just trust me on that."

She smiled, tipping her head back to look up at him. "I'm gonna hold you to that," she promised warningly, and jumped, startled, as the door opened behind her.

Ellen leaned on the door handle, flashing a grin at Dean that dared him to kick her out again."You two comin', or what?"

Dean leaned in to drop a kiss against the tip of Nim's nose, turning a grin to Ellen as she once again stepped into the room uninvited and unannounced. "Just waiting for you to come get us. Lucky for you we're dressed," he teased, his mood obviously lightened.

"Stow the attitude, boy, and shift your ass," the older woman growled laughingly at him, reaching out to take the duffle hanging from Nim's hand without giving the girl a chance to argue, leaving the door open this time as she walked away.

He looked back at Nim, his expression softening with obvious care and concern, "You okay, Princess?"

Nim couldn't help giggling at the by-play between the two, not trying to hide the flare of jealousy from Dean. He deserved to know that he had something there she wanted to share but knew she probably couldn't. She smiled up at him. "I'll live," was her soft response. "C'mon. I wanna see the look on her face when she sees the state of your underwear."

((Another uber log, but fun to play! Any complaints about Ellen, bring them to me - I'm responsible for her. ;-) And, yanno, always and forever awesomesauciest thankibles to Dean's player!))