Topic: Moments (AU)

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-05-28 07:55 EST
Dean and Bobby talked for hours, breaking only to finish off the bottle of top shelf liquor Brian had been nice enough to allow them to drain. Bobby made a mental note to repay him later, one way or another. They owed each other a few favors anyway, so it all washed out in the end. They weren't drinking just to celebrate, but also to mourn. It wasn't easy telling Dean how the big Apocalypse had gone down on this side of the universe. Telling Dean how he died was one thing, but telling him he killed his own brother was another. Dean had taken it well, as well as could be expected, all things considered, but Bobby knew it was all an act.

Neither of them was very good at showing their feelings, and the big L word was completely out of the question. After a while, Nim, Jo, whoever she was had come in and brought a couple of sandwiches, briefly reminding them that they needed to eat before ducking back out. Bobby had made an attempt to pick at the food, but Dean hadn't even tried, and though he seemed to be taking things well, Bobby knew Dean well enough to know that inside there was a storm raging in Dean's heart. The calm before the storm perhaps. It had taken months for Dean to acknowledge his Daddy's death, to accept it, to grieve, to let loose the tide of emotions that had been broiling inside, like a volcano simmering until it finally erupted in a single violent explosion.

Bobby knew that same thing was happening now, and as much as he didn't want to see Dean suffer, he knew better than to coddle him and tell him to let it go. Dean wasn't a boy anymore; he was a man, and he had to find his own way of dealing with the tragedy that was inherent in the life that had been chosen for him.

The calm before the storm was exactly what Dean was feeling. He took the news like a man, despite what he was feeling inside, and after another drink, excused himself, saying he needed to get some air. Bobby had lessened the pain a little by tossing Dean a set of familiar carkeys - keys to Dean's baby. The car he'd helped his own father pick off the lot when Cas had sent him to the past to encounter his parents when they were younger.

A 1967 black Chevrolet Impala that was Dean's most coveted possession and that he loved more than most people - the car that had been passed down to Dean from father to son as soon as he was able to drive. Dean stared at the keys in his hand for a long moment, conflicting emotions raging like a storm in his heart and his head.

"At least, I still have my baby," he told Bobby. There was a little comfort in that. Bobby watched him with concerned, troubled old eyes.

"You've got a lot more than that, boy," he reminded him, squeezing a hand against his shoulder before letting him go, wondering how the hell he could have ever doubted him.

Bobby watched as Dean walked quietly away. Quiet, too quiet. There was trouble brewing inside the younger man, and Bobby was worried what would happen when all the grief finally caught up with him. He sighed heavily as Dean disappeared out the door and then Bobby turned and started back toward the bar. Now that he had sorted things out with Dean, he and Brian had a lot to discuss.

Over the course of the day, other hunters had dropped in and out, a few choosing to stay the night before moving on. With the night drawing in outside, the bar was quiet as Bobby re-entered. Vaguely curious eyes flickered toward him as Brian nodded to his friend from where he stood in his accustomed spot, but no one tried to intercept the man. News travelled fast, especially when a reunion like theirs was taking place in a refuge like this.

The look on Bobby's face said more than anything he could put into words. He looked, in a word, grim. Worried, concerned, troubled - like any father would who cared about his son. "Gotta say, I'm glad to have him back, but I wish it had been under different circumstances," he remarked, setting his weary bones down on a stool. "Doesn't sound like too much fun being a vengeful spirit. If I ever die, remind me not to go that route." He was talking in circles, touching on things he and Dean had discussed that probably didn't make much sense to the casual observor, but he'd explain it all to Brian after he calmed his jangled nerves with a few more glasses of liquid courage.

Down the bar from Brian, Nim looked up from where she had her nose buried in a book. She'd been filling the time, trying not to eavesdrop or intrude, but desperate to know how Dean was coping with the long, long exchange of news. Her dark eyes touched on Bobby, speaking up before Brian had the chance. "Where is he?"

Bobby tilted his head toward the girl he and Brian knew as Nimue - a mystery herself, though it seemed Dean had just solved it, or at least, part of it. His story didn't explain how he or the girl he knew as Jo had ended up here, in this world, but at least it explained her nightmares. He jerked a thumb toward the door. "Went outside to see his baby." Anyone who knew Dean would know what baby Bobby was referring to, but Nim probably didn't.

His baby" Her brow furrowed as an unexpected shock of jealousy made itself known. Had Bobby brought someone else with him, someone whom Dean hadn't mentioned" Someone who was his 'baby'" Uncertain, she glanced toward Brian for a moment even as she slid off the stool. "I'll, uh ....go see if he's ..." She pointed toward the door, utterly failing to actually finish the sentence as her cheeks colored with the jealous heat Bobby's allusion had brought to bear in her. But no matter who was out there, what she was about to witness, Nim had to know Dean was all right, even if he no longer needed her there.

As the young woman disappeared out through the door, Brian eyed Bobby, passing over a bottle of Devil's Cut and a glass. "You could've mentioned his baby's a car," he said mildly, shifting himself to lean more comfortably against the counter. "You look like hell."

Bobby took the bottle from his old friend with a grateful grunt of acknowledgement. "She'll find out soon enough." The two of them fell into quiet conversation, two old friends catching up.

Dean didn't need Bobby to tell him where to look for his baby. He knew Bobby would take good care of her and have her parked safely off the street, most likely in the lot beside the bar. It had gotten dark since he and Bobby had started their little chat, but the car shone like a jewel under the light cast by the moon and the streetlights. Dean stood looking at her for a moment, like looking at an old familiar friend. He hadn't driven her in months or even sat behind the wheel. Back home, the car had been in storage for the last few months, as she was a bit too conspicuous when trying to keep a low profile. There was so much of himself wrapped up in that car, she was almost a part of him.

So much history, so many memories. The car had been the one constant in his life - always there for him, no matter what. She was, by every definition of the word, his baby. He was the one who had found her, loved her, took care of her, painstakingly rebuilt her piece by piece every time she'd been wrecked, and she had repaid him with her loyalty, always being there for him, no matter what. People could say and think what they wanted, but the Impala was more than just a car to Dean. The Impala was home.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-05-28 07:58 EST
He stood there now, just outside the driver's side door, the keys held expectantly, anxiously in his hand. He'd lost so much - his father, his mother, Sam, Castiel, countless friends and allies - but he had Bobby and he had Jo and he had his baby. Things could be a lot worse.

Softened footsteps on the gravelled paving sounded behind him as Nim rounded the corner, bracing herself for ....what? Did she really expect to find him wrapped up in another woman's arms" She wasn't sure what she was expecting. The sight of him gazing lovingly at a car, however, was not in the top ten. But what a car it was. Her own eyes travelled the sleek lines admiringly for a long moment, feeling something stirring in the memory denied to her. The Impala wasn't familiar, but it wasn't a stranger either.

Slowly, Nim's lips curved into her lopsided smile, the expression in her voice as she spoke from behind Dean. "Remind me to slug Bobby one of these days."

Dean blinked out of his reverie at the sound of Jo - no, Nim's - voice behind him. So much for being alone with his thoughts and his grief, though a part of him was reluctant to admit he didn't really want to be alone and was glad she was there. "You'll have to get in line," he replied, glancing her way. If she looked hard enough, she'd notice the signs of weariness on his face. Not just physical exhaustion, but a weariness of the soul, the kind that came from having to bury too many loved ones.

"Can I at least hold your jacket?" was her gently sarcastic response as she came up beside him, noting the exhaustion on his face, the weary soul-deep grief in his eyes. Her gaze shifted from Dean to the Impala, her smile deepening for a brief moment, keeping away from the pain in him a little longer before it demanded to be addressed. "He had me ready to beat the crap out of any woman who thought she could call herself your baby," she mused through a quiet laugh. "Have to say, I'm not quite so jealous now."

Despite everything, he couldn't help but crack a small smile, either amused or consoled by her presence and the easy way she seemed able to pull him out of his despair and bring him back to the world of the living. "You wouldn't be the first to get jealous of her. Women just never seem to get it." He turned his head to look down at the keys that he still held in his hand, as if he was almost afraid of something. "She belonged to my Dad. He gave her to me when I was sixteen, but..." He almost sighed wistfully. "I found her on the lot and told him to buy her. He was gonna buy a van."

As always, it was a long story, and he was talking in circles.

Relieved that her levity hadn't offended him or earned her another of those scowls he seemed so fond of handing out in her direction, Nim didn't even glance up at Dean, still focused on admiring the car in front of them. "She's beautiful," she agreed quietly, nodding in approval. The reference to time travel confused her just a little, but she didn't think now was a good time to ask about it. "I can't see you in a van. You'd have the cops on your ass every time you drove into a new town; all those dads freakin' out about what you're doing with their daughters in the back."

He actually chuckled at a little at her remark and the visual that popped into his head. "It was a hippie van." Comfortable or not, the back seat of the Impala had been christened once or twice, but he wasn't going to mention that now. Not to her, anyway. "You wanna go for a ride?" He asked, tilting a glance at Nim as he rubbed the pad of a thumb against the key in his hand, itching to take her for a spin, or at the very least, sit in that old familiar driver's seat again.

Finally, the woman at his side tore her dark eyes from his beloved car to look up at him with a shining smile. She rocked deliberately, nudging his arm with her shoulder as her thumbs hooked into her beltloops, ignoring the chill of the dark night in favor of staying close. "Thought you'd never ask."

Having a similiar affection for cars, Dean knew Bobby wouldn't have douched his baby up the way Sam might. More than likely, he'd kept her in storage somewhere, like a monument to his death. He wasn't wearing a jacket either, never having put it back on after he'd taken it off, but the cold didn't bother him much. In fact, he found it refreshing, after spending forty years in Hell. He smiled down at Nim, feeling a swell of pride and affection, both for her and the car. There was no remote button, no automatic anything. He'd kept her just like she'd been when John Winchester had driven her off the lot, with the one possible exception of the weapons cache in the trunk.

"Girl after my own heart," he proclaimed and turned his head back to the car to fit the key into the lock. He could do this in his sleep.

"Mmm, high praise from the man who calls his car baby," Nim teased back laughingly, leaving his side to walk around the back of the Impala with a sway to her step that was familiar to anyone who knew her, whether she'd been Jo or Nim at the time. Her fingertips slid over the smooth black paintwork in an unthinking caress as she came to a halt beside the passenger door, offering a playful challenge of a smile across the roof.

"Most girls aren't impressed with a car like this anymore. They want something that says money, status. A Beamer or maybe a Mercedes." He turned the key, popping the lock, and pulled open the driver's side door, which creaked heavily as old cars tended to do - completely made of metal; not an inch of fiberglass on his baby. He shrugged his shoulders at her from the opposite side of the car, an amused smile on his face. "She was my first love." Dean climbed into the driver's seat and leaned across to pop the lock on the passenger side.

She heard the lock pop, tucking her fingers into the handle to draw the door open and lower herself into the car beside Dean, drawing the door closed. Inside was as beautifully maintained as the outside, bringing a brighter, wider smile to her face. "Looks like Bobby might have been trying to wheedle her away from you," she teased cheerfully, twisting to get a good look at Dean behind the wheel of the Impala and felt a thud deep in her chest that knocked her almost breathless.

She'd never seen anyone who fitted so well as Dean in that moment, her heart lurching as her traitorous eye-line shifted to flicker toward the back seat, entertaining a momentary speculation as to numbers before she slammed the trapdoor down on that thought.

He inserted the key into the ignition, but didn't turn over the engine just yet, pausing to just soak in the moment. To him, the Impala was more than just a car - she was an old friend and a beloved member of the family. He ran his fingers over the steering wheel, as tenderly as one might caress a lover. "Probably keeping her as a memorial." Bobby had said he'd given the boys a hunter's funeral, which meant there was no grave, no monument, the Impala the only tangible thing left to remember them by.

Something caught Dean's eye and he glanced up to find hanging from the rearview mirror a cord from which dangled the familiar and somewhat mysterious amulet Bobby had given to Sam when he was a boy. It had been meant to be a gift to their father, but Sam had given it to Dean instead. Dean furrowed his brows as he reached over to touch it. The last time he'd seen it, he'd tossed it in the trash. That had been years ago.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-05-28 08:01 EST
Nim's eyes followed his, recognition flaring inside her mind as she found herself looking at the amulet hanging from the mirror. She didn't know where she recognized it from, of course, or even why, but it was there, in her mind, a palpable flash of something from the past she didn't recall. She watched as Dean reached for it, dark eyes shifting to his. "What is that?"

It seemed fitting somehow that the amulet was there, hanging from the mirror, like some hung a cross or a rabbit's foot or a woman's garter. The amulet was more than just a good luck charm, however, a lot more. "Sammy gave it to me when I was twelve. I thought I lost it." Not lost, threw away. Dean felt a strange surge of relief that somehow, someone had thought to save it - Sam, most likely. He'd been the only one there when he'd thrown it away. He knew how important it was and must have decided to save it.

Her curious gaze turned a little sad, knowing that at some point over his long day of discussion and remembrances, Bobby would have finally told him how the Dean and Sam Winchester of this world had died. She couldn't even begin to imagine the shock of such news, and yet Dean didn't seem to have even felt the blow. She inched closer along the bench seat. "So, in a way, he's still here."

Oh, he felt the blow alright, but he'd push it aside for now and deal with it later, when he was alone, always when he was alone. It was too much to process right now, and if he let himself feel anything, he was afraid he'd get lost in the depths of despair. If she hadn't followed him out, he might have allowed himself to grieve a little, but he was too proud to let her see how the news of Sam's death was killing him inside. "Yeah, I guess." His fingers lingered on the dangling amulet, as if debating whether to leave it there as a memorial to Sam or wear it around his neck, like he used to do.

Her hand crept up to curl her fingers gently about the curve of his upper arm, offering the same silent comfort in her touch as she had so many times in this one long day. Dark brown eyes that were at once wary and warm, concerned and affectionate, came to rest on his face, studying the nuance of his expression as she drew in a slow, quiet breath. "It wasn't you," she said very softly, hoping he would understand what she was saying. She didn't want to have to be specific.

She seemed to know what he was thinking somehow, that it was his fault that Sam was dead. He'd have given anything to save Sam, going so far as to sell his own soul to Hell, once upon a time, but times had changed, and he didn't want to go back there. "Doesn't matter. What's done is done. I can't undo it. Sammy's gone, and there's no way to bring him back." Dean let out a long, heavy sigh and pulled his hand away from the amulet, though his eyes continued to watch it swaying gently in the window. "All I wanna know is why me" Why am I here and not him?"

She didn't release him, sliding close enough that the heat from their bodies mingled as she squeezed her fingers about his arm, sliding her hand down to his. "If I could tell you, I would," was her soft, regretful answer. "I know it's selfish of me, but I can't help feeling glad you're here. But part of me is mourning with you, Dean. You're not alone."

How many times had he heard that' From Sam, from Bobby, even from Castiel. You're not alone ....but they were wrong. They hadn't been there when he'd been in Hell. It had always been his shoulders that had been forced to carry the heavy burden of the Winchester legacy, going all the way back to his grandfather. How many times had he been told he was special" Chosen by the angelic host, while Sam had been chosen by Lucifer.

But he'd never given in, he'd never told Michael yes, stubborn to the end, even if it cost him his life. He wasn't going to kill his brother, no matter what, but this other Dean had, and Dean couldn't help but wonder what had happened differently that had caused things to go so horribly wrong. That wasn't what Nim wanted to hear though. She was trying in her own way to be supportive and deserved more from him than a pity party. Besides, the truth be told, he was glad she was there, too, even if he couldn't say it.

His fingers tightened about hers, exhaustion taking its toll, his eyes bleary with unshed tears. "At least, he's at peace, not stuck in Hell," he said wearily. There was at least some comfort in that.

She nodded, the action gentle and undemanding as her hand slipped from his, rising once more to gently curl to his cheek. There was something heart-breaking in seeing him so close to tears and yet not letting them go, worse than seeing his grief the night before. "I wish there was something I could do to help." It was a whispered wish, tempered by the rise to tears in her own chest, moisture glittering in her own eyes in an open echo of sympathetic empathy. "He's at peace. You have nothing to blame yourself for."

He turned his head toward her, away from the dangling amulet that reminded him of Sam, moisture reflected in the hazel eyes that looked more green than brown. No matter how brave and stoic he might seem, his eyes couldn't lie. His eyes spoke volumes of the anguish he was feeling inside that remained untold of and unreleased. He searched her own eyes and found she mirrored his tears, sympathetic to his grief. He envied her lack of memory, but not the nightmares that kept her awake. At that moment, he felt like his heart was breaking, and he wasn't sure if it would ever be repaired. He only looked back at her, eyes pleading for something, but he wasn't sure what. You're not alone, Dean. Her words echoed in his head. I don't wanna be alone, he told her silently in his head.

She couldn't be the Jo he remembered, but perhaps Nim had something to offer him that could help, somehow. Her fingers stroked against his cheek as she drew closer, touching her forehead to his, holding the intensity of their shared gaze, softer in shared grief than she might have been in another life. And yet she wasn't asking him for anything, not even for his own good.

"Don't let it tear you down," she whispered through her own tearful sense of loss, though she had no memory of the Sam he was grieving for. "Not unless I'm there to build you up again." She couldn't stand the thought of him holding everything inside, only to collapse in the dark of the night with no one there to keep the nightmares at bay.

A few years ago, it had been someone else who'd helped him wade through the dark waters of his grief when Sam had taken it upon himself to cast himself and Lucifer into Hell. It had been Lisa who had taken him in and helped him heal and repair the broken pieces of his heart, but he realized now that he hadn't really been in love with Lisa - he had only been in love with the thought of being with her and Ben, living a normal life as part of a family.

She had represented all of that, but he had also learned that his life wasn't normal and it was never going to be normal. He'd already decided that when he was six, the day he'd first held a gun in his hands and felt as if it belonged there. He felt something break inside him at Nim's promise, all the grief and guilt bubbling up to the surface, even as he struggled to keep it safely pushed down deep inside, where no one could see it or feel it but him. Choking on a barely-repressed sob, he reached for her, wrapping his arms around her and clinging to her, like a child might his mother, or lover to lover.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-05-28 08:03 EST
She slid into his arms easily, curling her own snug about his neck and shoulders as her fingers laced into his hair, tucking his face to her neck. Her eyes closed as she felt the shudder of hardly-expressed sobs wrack his body in her grasp, releasing her own tears silently in slow trickling rivulets down her cheeks. She was prepared to stay there, twisted toward him, up on one knee, her head bent uncomfortably against the roof of the car, for as long as it would take for Dean to loose that first wave of grief and let go of at least a little of his painful burden. Screw muscle cramps and awkwardness - this was more important.

The first sobs broke with heart-wrenching grief, agony the likes of which he hadn't felt in years, not since his brother had died once before. Oh, he'd felt grief at Bobby's death, but Bobby wasn't really dead. Not in this world anyway. When the tears came, when he finally allowed himself to release that agony of grief, it was a flood, leaving him sobbing and gasping for breath, his chest aching and sore. He knew it was selfish of him to take advantage of her the way he was, but she was there, waiting and willing, and he just couldn't hold back anymore.

"It's all right," she kept whispering against his ear, her palm stroking over his hair, cupping the back of his head in her own protective way. Despite the scream of the muscles in her back and neck, she refused to move, refusing to even hint at moving away while this stoic man who seemed to have such a hold over her was hurting. "It's all right ....I'm here ..."

He cried for what seemed like forever, but was in reality only minutes, cried himself nearly dry. Years of grief and pain and anguish bubbling up, released at last, purged from his heart - a cleansing, necessary release. Tears of sorrow, pure and unselfish. He clung to her through it all, grateful for the gift of her presence, thankful that at least she hadn't been taken from him. When the storm finally passed, he lifted his head, eyes swollen but clear, like a storm passing overhead, drenching the ground, but then moving on, sunny skies ahead. "Sorry," he muttered, wiping a hand across his face to dry the tears.

"Don't be." She couldn't help but feel relieved when his grip on her loosened and she could allow herself to lower from her awkward lean, settling once again on the seat beside him. His tears had soaked the shoulder of her shirt, but she didn't care, proud of him for being able to let go of something, at least. "Don't be sorry for what you feel, Dean. Ever."

Her hand found a place against his cheek once again as she drew his face to hers, stopping herself before she could take advantage of his vulnerability with a kiss. The smile she gave him instead was as tenderly loving as she could make it, hoping it was enough to soothe him past the guilt of crying all over her.

His eyes drifted closed momentarily when she laid her hand against his cheek, remembering the handful of times she'd touched him just like that before. So close, and yet, so far. He got the feeling that all he had to do was give her the tiniest bit of encouragement, and she'd be putty in his hands, but he didn't want that from her. He didn't want a one-night stand, not with her. There was a time when he would have wanted that from her, but not anymore.

His eyes slowly opened, green eyes gazing into brown. The storm had passed, though the ache of loneliness and grief was as real as ever. It would be so easy to find comfort in her kiss, in her embrace, like a ship coming into port after a storm. He hesitated, close enough that she could see the tears still shining in his eyes, his lips parting slightly as he debated tasting hers once again.

Jo... A whispered plea of her name in his head. She was Jo, but she wasn't Jo. She didn't remember him, the way he remembered her. Maybe it was better that way.

How easy it would have been, to close that distance between them and taste his lips all over again. She didn't know if the person she had been would have done it, but the person she was now, the woman who had grown into her chosen name over the past pair of years, couldn't countenance taking advantage of him that way. He was warm, and she sensed that he was willing, too ....but he was vulnerable in the wake of his tears. Despite how little she remembered, how inexplicable her deep attachment to him was, Nim couldn't bear the thought of Dean resenting her for being so selfish.

As she gazed into his eyes, unaware of the conflict rolling through his mind, her smile deepened, still soft but just a hint of teasing now as her thumb stroked down the line of his jaw. "Going to take me for that ride then, princess?"

A smile broke, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm, and he snorted. "I think you have me confused with someone else. Last time I checked, princesses were female." The spell seemed broken, at least, for the time being, and he reluctantly pulled away from her touch, wiping a hand across his face to brush away any tears that remained. "Where to' I don't know my way around Chicago very well." He reached for the key in the ignition and gave it a turn, smile widened when the engine roared to life. "Hear that?" he asked, smiling over at her. "That's my baby purring."

Nim eased away with a low chuckle, not opening up the distance between them too much. She wasn't quite ready to abandon the warmth just yet. As Dean swiped at his cheeks, she discreetly wiped the tear tracks from her own face, hoping he hadn't noticed her own quiet grief. She didn't know whom she had been grieving for, only that the feeling had been sharp and now had faded to a dull ache. "Know the Lake Shore Drive?" she asked as he prodded her for a destination. "Oak Street Beach is a good view after dark." As the engine purred to life, she felt the delight radiating from her companion, unable to help a small giggle at his intense satisfaction. "Do I wanna know what happens when she growls?"

"Her bark is worse than her bite," he replied, the smile fading as he noticed tear tracks on her pretty face, and he reached over to brush at one with the pad of a thumb. "No more tears," he either scolded or promised. They had both cried enough for one day. He didn't want to see her cry anymore. He'd think about Sam later, when he was alone. "If you're hoping to make out in the backseat, I have to warn you it's a bit cramped." He had to smirk a little at his own warning, wondering what she was thinking. Dean hit the clutch and put the car in gear, glancing in the rearview mirror as he backed the car out of the spot Bobby parked her in.

The scolding only made her smile soften for a moment, something indefinably intimate in the caste of her dark gaze as his thumb stroked against her cheek. Which was, of course, destroyed by the smirking warning he then delivered, her lips parting to release a heartfelt peal of genuine laughter as he turned his attention to backing them out of the lot. "Voice of experience, huh?" she countered in the midst of her laughter. "Is that cramped with two, or more?"

He shrugged his shoulders, non-committally. "She's been christened once or twice." He wasn't going to elaborate further, but it was no secret that he liked women and had slept with more than a few. "You know what they say....Two's company and three's a crowd." He flashed another grin at her before pulling out onto the road. "Unless it's twins."

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-05-28 08:07 EST
Nim's laughter grew louder at that, her knees rising to her chest for a moment as she guffawed at his unabashed declaration of being more than a little practised in certain areas. "God! I did not wanna know that," she declared, tempted to thump at him but not daring to while he was driving. But then again, he couldn't have it all his own way. "That'd be boy/girl twins, right?"

Even if he didn't know Chicago very well, his sense of direction never failed him, at least while he was behind the wheel of a car. He glanced at the road signs as they passed, knowing the main roads well enough and which direction the lake was in to find his way there without the help of GPS or a map. He'd crisscrossed the country more times than he could count, and he could and probably had literally driven in his sleep. He huffed at her question, scowling indignantly. "I don't do boys, sorry. I'm strictly heterosexual, thank you very much."

"Thank God for small mercies," she murmured impishly. "Maybe not so small." Did she say that' Why, yes, she did, and without even a blush to temper her unrepentent grin.

Trusting Dean to be able to find the lake and work out his direction from there, Nim settled comfortably on the seat beside him as he drove through the city she'd grown to know over the past years, far more aware of him beside her than the vista moving by the windows. Every now and then, her dark eyes would flicker toward him, and an almost shy smile would light her face, marking her voyeuristic enjoyment of simply looking at him.

He wasn't so dense that he couldn't sense her gaze on him, lingering in that way women did when they were undressing him with their eyes. "You're staring," he said, calling her on it, amusement coloring his voice. "I may have to start charging admission."

He shifted gear as he pulled the Impala onto the main road, heading east toward the lake, so at ease behind the wheel, it was almost as if he'd been driving since the day he was born. If Nim had been a guy, he might had elaborated on the twins story, but it wasn't the kind of thing you shared with a woman, especially one you had feelings for and might end up in bed with.

"No law against it," was her immediate response, but she did blush then at being caught out, turning her eyes front as that shy smile made itself known on her face once again. "How much you chargin'?" She made a show of patting at her pockets before relaxing with a quiet laugh, this time managing to keep herself from even half-glancing his way. No sense in giving him too much ammunition to use against her in his own charming way, after all.

"For you?" He smiled. "I just might let you have a freebie." The farther away they got from the city, the less heavy the traffic, the lake on one side, shining like a jewel beneath the moonlight, the city lights reflecting off the still waters, the city on the other side, buildings stretching high into the sky.

He frowned a little, his mind wandering, remembering the last time he'd been to Chicago. "I was here a few years ago." Just before they'd sent Lucifer down under. He sighed, shoving those thoughts aside again. It wasn't the time or the place. As a matter of fact, he'd been to Chicago several times, all business, never pleasure. "Been here a few times, actually, but if I told you about it, you'd probably never believe me."

"Wow, not even a blowjob' You must really like me." Now where had that come from' Nim didn't really know. All she knew was that she'd not been comfortable enough with anyone to tease so bluntly before Dean had come along. Hoping he would ignore that comment as he drifted into reminisences, she twisted, hooking one arm over the back of the seat as she looked at him. "You might be surprised what I'd believe," was her quiet answer to his assumption, fingertips brushing lightly against the fabric that covered his shoulder as they spoke.

Fortunately, he wasn't drinking or eating when she made that comment or he might have choked. As it was, he swerved a little when he turned to gape at her in surprise and then he snickered. "Don't tempt me." He made no further comment on that, instead turning his eyes back to the road in front of him, straightening the car back out, furrowing his brows when he felt her fingers brushing against his shirtsleeve - the one that wasn't covering the scar that marred his left shoulder. "Maybe, but I've seen some pretty weird stuff." And weird was putting it mildly. He flicked a glance over at her a moment. "Have you been hunting?" He assumed she had, but didn't know the details.

The swerve made her snicker, but she didn't expound any further than he did, rubbing his shirt between her thumb and forefinger as she nodded for a moment. "Nothing out of state, but I've been on hunts," she told him, watching the street lights as they reflected in staccato strobe from the shining hood of the Impala. "I got back from a hunt just a few days ago. We thought there might be a werewolf in Lisbon - turned out to be a skinwalker with a bad attitude and a real problem with men." She couldn't help a faint smirk. "First time I've ever had to seduce a monster before I put it down."

"Seduce?" He narrowed his eyes as he cast a pointed look at her, though to his credit, not swerving this time. He had always assumed Jo was a virgin, but he had no clue about Nim. He wasn't sure why, but he felt a flare of jealousy rise up unexpectedly inside him. He turned back to the road, hoping she hadn't caught the flash of jealousy in his eyes. "Did you kill it?" he asked, the tone of his voice changing, deepening, wishing he hadn't asked.

Oh, she'd caught it. It made her smile flicker a little wider for a moment, pleased to discover that it wasn't just her feeling that oddly possessive bond between them. "Her," she corrected him with a smirk. "And hell yes. I swear, she had eight hands - they were everywhere!"

But despite the laughter, she felt a little tug of dismay deep inside. She should tell him about Rob, warn him before the only lover she recalled walked back into the Landing with the assumption that she was his, but if that little flash told her anything, it was that a confession of not being untouched would probably result in a fight.

"Wait....the skinwalker was female?" Dean blinked back at her, sounding surprised. He had either missed that little detail or been too jealous to think it through. "Huh. They're usually male. Sam and I ran into one back in..." He broke off at the thought or mention of his brother, frowning at the reminder and turning back to the road as they slowly left the city behind. "Never mind." He noticed a sign directing him to the beach and he pulled off the road to park in the designated lot.

"I never said it was a usual case," she smirked faintly, though that smirk faded as he broke off, preventing himself from finishing his thought as it touched on his brother. As they drew to a halt, she twisted back to face front, drawing in a quick breath. "So ....wanna come dip your toes in the water?" Rather an abrupt change of subject, yes, but if he didn't want to linger, then she wouldn't make him.

He seemed to relax a little once the car was parked, but it was only momentary. The prospect of dipping his toes in the water gave him an odd sense of longing, an old familiar ache in the middle of his chest. It sounded like something normal people did, not him, yet here he was, parked on a beach with a girl under the moonlight. Who would've thought' He couldn't remember when he'd last been to a beach. It was probably while on some hunt with Sam, all business, no pleasure. Again. As usual.

"You sure all you wanna dip is your toes?" he asked, canting a glance at her, letting her make she wanted of the comment.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-05-28 08:10 EST
Her head turned slowly, dark eyes meeting his with a knowing smile beneath raised brows as she looked him over. It was all but silent here, the traffic a distant rumble, and no one else in sight. Not even another car in the parking lot. So she went with the logical assumption, wetting her lips before responding in a playful tone. "I'm game if you are."

"You're kidding me, right?" he asked, arching his brows and wondering if she was really serious. "You know, I've never..." He broke off again, looking over at the water, still as glass, the moon shining overhead. He couldn't deny it was a romantic setting. What had he once said about liking long walks on the beach' He'd never in a million years have guessed someone would actually take him up on it. "I, umm..."

Laughing, Nim didn't even attempt to soothe his suddenly nervous concerns, merely reaching over to pat his thigh with impish mischief. "C'mon, princess, before you split your tongue thinkin' up an excuse," she told him, enjoying having the upper hand with playful delight. Of course she was teasing him, but it was entirely up to Dean to work that one out for himself. Dark eyes sparkling with laughter, she slid away toward the passenger door.

He scowled as she slid away from him. Real smooth, Dean. Now she thinks you're a big scaredy cat. The hell are you afraid of? It's just Jo. That was exactly what he was afraid of. "You better think up a different nickname for me. That one's gonna ruin my reputation." Whatever his reputation was in a place like this. Brian had hinted that he was some kind of hero here, but he didn't think there was anything heroic about killing his own brother.

She flicked a glance over her shoulder to him, revealing the wide grin that had risen at his rejoinder. "What'd you prefer me to call you?" she asked, even as she opened up the door. "Oh wait, I know ..." Her voice changed, turning from the light cadence he was familiar with to a husky growl. "Oh, Dean ....baby ..." As abruptly as her voice had changed, she changed back from that moan of his name to a warm chuckle, blowing him a kiss before moving to slither out of the car.

He grumbled at her teasing. No one called him Princess, or Baby, for that matter. Lisa hadn't even given him a pet name. He'd never let anyone close enough to earn a pet name. He wasn't sure why he was letting her get to him, but he was. "Be careful what you wish for," he warned as she laughed and slipped out of the car, thinking he should probably take a little of his own advice, but what did he wish for" He looked back at the amulet that dangled from the rearview mirror, conflict brewing in his heart again. Bobby and Nim or Sam and Cas" Who'd he love more" Did it even matter"

She closed the door, letting him have his moment of private conflict as she turned to look out over the water, The cool breeze drew her hair over her face, shaken away with a flick of her head as she walked out onto the sand, fingers slipping into her pockets as she drew in a long, slow breath. The cool air should have been good for her, should have soothed the aching, burning twist deep inside her that had flared as she teased Dean with hints and allusions toward an intimacy she had no idea if they had ever shared before. The natural moonlight mingled with the artificial flicker of the streetlights to play over her, setting her hair to shining as she stilled on the first stretch of sand, uncertain if Dean was even going to get out of the car, much less join her.

He let go of the amulet, drifting back to the present, turning his head to the girl he knew as Jo, but who had become Nimue. A rose by any other name....He'd asked if she remembered him at all and she'd said that some part of her had, some part deep inside, some memory that still existed deep in her mind. The memory that was too tightly bound to the nightmares that woke her in the dark. He felt his heart ache at the sight of her, moonlight glinting off golden hair that fell in a soft cascade over her back and shoulders. His gaze wandered further, admiring her slender form, the way she curved just so in all the right places. Any idiot could see that she was beautiful, and he longed to tell her so.

He waited, merely watching her as she walked along the sand, waiting to see if she'd turn back, if she'd look his way, wondering not for the first time what she was thinking and feeling and why she'd asked to bring him here, of all places.

Under his gaze, she shivered in the steady breeze off the lake, shaking herself visibly out of her own thoughts as her arms rose to wrap about herself. She could feel him watching her, already regretting walking away without bringing him along with her. Even a distance of just these few feet was too much for her comfort. With another flick of her head, she looked back toward the car, wondering if he'd ever be able to put the Jo he remembered aside and accept her as she was. Her smile as her gaze met his was warm and inviting, not knowing how to ask him to join her without seeming as though she expected it.

He saw her shiver, even from the short distance between them, and regretted leaving his jacket back at Morgan's Landing after making his hasty exit. He sighed, knowing he couldn't sit there like a coward when he had agreed to bring her here. It was the kind of scene reminiscent of a romance novel - or a chick flick. The kind of movie he only watched late at night when Sam was asleep and couldn't poke fun. Dean pulled the keys out of the ignition and shoved them in the front right pocket of his jeans as he pushed open the door and climbed out of the car. The sand felt soft beneath his boots and he wondered what it would feel like between his toes.

Watching him approach, Nim was struck by the observation that Dean Winchester didn't just walk. He prowled, a predator always on edge, always ready to pounce, unafraid to walk into the unknown. Despite the chill, she felt her cheeks burn at the sudden flare of burning desire that lanced through her as she acknowledged properly just what sexy really was to her. "Geez, Nim, start thinking with your head," she muttered to herself, unable to tear her gaze away, even when she bit hard into her own lip to try and distract herself. Seduction, even if she was any good at it, should not have been on the cards here. Not at all. Oh no. And if she kept telling herself that, she might be able to behave herself.

He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets as he approached, glancing up at the starry sky and the moon overhead, before turning his gaze back to her, trying to still his beating heart, painfully aware of her watching him almost the same way he'd been watching her. It was such a romantic setting it was unsettling. "Is this the part where I run into your arms and sweep you off your feet and we tumble to the sand and make mad passionate love?" he blurted, frowning as he realized he'd probably put his foot in his mouth. "Sorry, I'm....not very good at this sort of thing." What sort of thing" Geez, Dean. Open mouth, insert foot.

Luckily for him, it was just the right comment to ease her unsettled senses. Nim let out a genuine cackle of laughter, loosing one hand from her pocket to slither her arm around his waist in a brief squeeze of a hug. "You're priceless when you're nervous, you know that?" She leaned back, slipping her hand back into her own pocket with a grin. "I promise, I won't take advantage of you on the sand. It gets in the most uncomfortable places."

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-05-28 08:14 EST
"I'm not nervous," he denied, though in truth he was more nervous around her at times than he was around a pack of werewolves during a full moon. "I'm not so sure I'd mind that really. The being taken advantage of part, I mean." He stiffened just a little when she wound her arm around his waist, but she pulled away before he could reciprocate, and for some reason, that made him only feel more awkward. "Maybe we should just get it over with."

One brow rose in a startlingly similar fashion to an expression he employed on a regular basis as she looked up at him. "You know ....I'm not asking for anything, Dean," she told him quietly. "Everything was fine, easy with us in the car." Before I hinted at having sex with someone else. "What changed?" She turned to face him, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body as her head tipped back to let her eyes meet his. "Did you change your mind about coming out here" Because I can walk back, it's fine if you wanna ....you know ....get away from me."

He looked down into her eyes. He couldn't really help it, as she was right there in front of him, looking into his, and he found he couldn't tear himself away, no matter how hard he tried. Her questions were valid ones, and his memory drifted back to an earlier time when she'd been the one who'd walked away from him. He frowned at her, wounded by the incorrect assumption that he wanted to get away from her. The truth was exactly the opposite; that was the problem.

"I don't..." Both brows furrowed, and the expression on his face betrayed his conflicting thoughts. "Oh, hell..."

Without further thought, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and slid his arms around her, drawing her close. His lips met hers as if to answer all her burning questions, all the longing and loneliness, hopes and desires wrapped up in that one fervid kiss.

The kiss took her by surprise. She'd been expecting him to snap at her, to deny his discomfort, maybe to turn it into a joke. She hadn't expected this, but oh, how she wanted it. Her breath caught in her throat as his mouth took possession of hers, her hands rising from her pockets, hesitating just once before her arms drew about his neck, fingers combing into his hair. Her lips parted with a soft, unthinking moan to color the taste of her on his tongue in answer to the roiling, violent flash of burning desire that flared wildly inside, stoked and kept burning bright by the softer side of her feeling for him, that gentle need she was still reluctant to call love.

His passion matched hers as he deepened the kiss, a kiss he'd longed for since the first day he'd met her. Burning desire flared, coiling outward from somewhere deep inside, the moan against his lips only feeding the fire. He'd joked about them tumbling to the sand and making passionate love, but in that moment, that was exactly what he wanted. Or maybe he had a better idea. It wasn't the first time he'd kissed her since he'd arrived, but this was by far the most passionate kiss. Alone there, under the stars, with the waves crashing against the shore, no one to see them, no one to stop them, no one to know, he'd thrown caution to the wind, giving in to the yearning he could no longer deny.

He wasn't sure if what he was feeling was love, but if this wasn't love, he didn't know what was.

Breathless almost from the moment his lips had touched hers, she couldn't hold that kiss indefinitely, however much she wanted to. Up on her toes, swaying tenderly closer to him with every breath, she reluctantly broke from him, only to moan in protest at her own silly need to breathe and join her mouth to his once again. She wasn't thinking, only feeling, and what she felt was as close to overwhelming as anything she could have imagined before Dean had come crashing back into her life only twenty-four hours ago. Her hands roamed over his shoulders, down his arms, fingers threatening to clench in the fabric of his shirt only to loosen as she finally found her wits enough to speak.

"That's one way to tell me I'm wrong," she heard herself murmur against his lips, her own curved in a breathless smile as her eyes tried to flicker open, wanting to see him even as the urge to melt into him entirely began to take hold once more.

The one kiss was strangely enough for now - enough to satisfy him and yet leave him wanting more, enough to confirm his suspicions that she was wanting him as much as he was wanting her, enough to shake him to the very core of his being. He didn't press another kiss on her, satisfied with the one for now, eyes watching her in the darkness with burning desire. He only wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest, close enough to feel her heartbeat against his, content for the moment in the quiet intimacy shared between them.

He closed his eyes as he held her close, feeling her heart beat against his, hearing the waves lap against the shore. He sighed softly as he pressed another kiss against the top of her head, the scent of her hair filling him with longing and a need to protect her at all costs. He knew somehow that were he to tell her all this, she'd insist she didn't need protecting, but she was wrong.

It was in his blood to protect those he loved. It was who he was, who he'd always been, who he'd always be.

He was wrong and right all at once. She would insist that she didn't need protecting, but it would be a lie. She knew the only person she would ever allow to protect her without a fight would be Dean, no matter how much she complained about it. And yet, she had no idea how she knew that, only that it was an immutable truth she couldn't fight. Her arms slithered about his waist as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes to breathe in that scent which spoke to something deep inside - gunpowder, leather, that unique tickle of musk that was his skin.

There were so many thoughts suddenly running through his head, even as he tried to still them, to slow them down, to sort them out. What if he was stuck here" Would it be such a bad thing" Conversely, what if he wasn't' She'd walked away from him once, he'd walked away from her. In the end, he'd wound up losing her, and here they were again, for some inexplicable reason, getting a second chance. How" Why' Did it even matter" What was he supposed to do' Whether she was Jo or whether she wasn't didn't seem to matter.

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," he muttered softly against her hair, giving voice to that thought finally. Who would have guessed that Dean Winchester could quote Shakespeare"

She was no less filled with galloping thoughts, though hers felt selfish, uncharitable when compared with all he had lost. Why were they here, why now" If there were some way to get back, would he leave her" She wouldn't blame him if he did; she had no hold over him that could possibly compare with his loyalty and love for the brother he had begun to grieve for in her arms. Yet that thought was frightening to her, her arms wrapping tighter about his waist as she clung, nestling closer in silent denial of losing ....what? What did they have, what could this be called"

She barely heard him speak, failing to understand the words murmured into the whipping of her hair in the breeze, but it distracted her from her own thoughts. Her head lifted, dark eyes searching his out in the darkness. "What?"

A frown flickered across his face and he worried that he'd said something stupid, unable to repress that worried look from his eyes. "Nothing," he replied, hoping she wouldn't press him further. He'd inadvertently broken the spell and he suddenly wished he hadn't said a single word. "You know, I....I've never been to a beach before. Not like this. I think....my parents took me once when I was a kid, but....I don't remember it very well."

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-05-28 08:17 EST
He wasn't getting out of it that easily, not when she'd seen the worry cross his face so openly. "Something about a rose," she offered up to jog his memory, her hands sliding down his arms to take his, drawing him further down the sand toward the water. "Something romantic?" Would he admit to having a little romance in the moment when challenged so openly' Her expression softened as she decided on the right spot, lowering down onto one knee to pull him down onto the sand with her. It was innocent enough, if she managed to keep her hands to herself.

"Just something I heard once. It's not important." He smiled faintly, nervously even, afraid of something, but he wasn't sure what. Afraid of saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing. Oh, sure, he knew his way around the bedroom well enough, but romance" Lisa was the closest he'd ever gotten to a serious, long-term relationship, and on the best days, he and Lisa had been a mess. He hesitated, looking down at her from his height as she went down on one knee. "You said we'd get sand in the most uncomfortable places."

She laughed, giving him another tug. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Dean-o," was her amused response as she thumped onto her backside, pulling one last time on his hands before turning her attention to unlacing her boots. "I'm not taking a swim, but I'm sure as hell going in the water."

His heart suddenly thumped in his chest, and he turned to glance back at his baby, as if to make sure she was still safely parked in the lot. His head then swiveled toward the lake, the waves lapping over the sand. What it feel like to have sand ooze between your toes, or to feel the water wash over bare feet and ankles" Such simple pleasures that he'd never had the time for. The prospect made his stomach flutter and his pulse quicken with excitement, like a child on his very first excursion to a beach. "I-I don't..." He faltered, filled with fearful but excited anticipation.

Her head tipped back to meet his gaze once more as she pulled her boots off, her socks only seconds behind. "Yes, you do," she promised him warmly. "It's just cold water, princess, it won't bite. And I promise not to swoon at the sight of your manly ankles." Bare feet found a place on the sand, enjoying the fine chill drift of the grains between her toes. Her toes with painted nails ....Bright pink. Glittery. Toe nails. Not the sort of girly decoration anyone generally expected to see on a hunter.

He hardly took his boots off to sleep, much less wade in a fresh-water lake. Ever since Lucifer, he'd taken to sleeping in his clothes most nights, ready to go at a moment's notice. Sure, he took his boots off to take a shower or if he was with a woman, but mostly, he remained fully dressed at all times, like a soldier at war. It seemed that's what he'd been fighting the last few years - a war where demons, angels, alphas, Leviathan, and everything in between were the enemy. There was no time for frolicking on a beach or falling in love, just sleeping and eating and hunting.

Dean knew that life wasn't much of a life at all, but it was all he knew, all he'd ever known. He watched as she stripped her shoes and socks off and wriggled her toes in the sand. "What's it feel like?" he found himself asking, curiously.

He noticed the pink polish on her toe nails and it struck him how intimate it seemed that she'd allowed him to see that, but they were just toenails, right' Everyone had them.

Rolling her jeans up to just below her knees, she glanced up to him once more. "Why don't you take your boots off and find out for yourself?" she asked him just as curiously. Her toes wriggled in the sand once again as she reached up to offer him her hand, though whether to pull him down or for him to pull her up was entirely his choice. "I'm not disarming myself, Dean, I'm just taking my shoes off."

He was watching her like she was doing something completely foreign to him, something most people took very much for granted. He reached for her hand, letting her decide if she was pulling herself up or him down. "I feel silly," he admitted finally, the expression on his face uncertain, a hint of embarrassment.

"Embrace the silly," she told him firmly, giving him a very firm tug down onto the sand with her as her lips split in a wide, encouraging smile. "Come to the silly side, Dean, we have pie." Would that be enticement enough, she wondered, or was he a man who liked something less food oriented to invite him toward something he wasn't used to"

"Yeah, okay, Yoda. I'll become one with the farce." A smile crossed his face at the mention of his favorite dessert. "Oh, you so owe me pie for this. Cherry pie, with vanilla ice cream." He dropped down on the sand beside her, glancing over at her looking worried. "Promise me you won't tell Bobby about this," he said as he started pulling the laces of his boots loose. "He'll never let me live it down."

She let out a delightly triumphant squeak, a sound far too girly for her own peace of mind, and flung her arms around his neck as he gave in, kissing his cheek by way of a reward for his long-suffering acquiescence. "Cross my heart and seal my lips," she promised with a wink, releasing him cheerfully. "Cherry pie, huh' Just a slice, or the whole thing?"

"I'll seal your lips," he warned, sighing in long-suffering resignation. "The things I do to keep people happy." He pulled off one boot, followed by the other, followed by his socks. "Depends on how hungry I am," he replied with a smirk, wriggling his toes in the sand for what seemed like the first time in his entire existence. "It's....soft." He seemed surprised by this. Soft and cool and oddly soothing.

"Don't pretend you're not enjoying it," she giggled, wriggling closer to take charge of rolling his jeans up. "Close your eyes. Just listen to the water." Her head turned to watch him, mere inches away as she smiled. "I love the beach," she murmured softly, unsure why she was sharing this with him but wanting him to know. "The water. All I have to do is hear it, and I know things aren't as bad as they seem." She rolled her eyes, ducking her head in vague embarrassment at knowing how dream-like her expression had become as she spoke. "I sound like a Hallmark card."

"Yes, Mother," he quipped, but did as she said, closing his eyes while she took charge of his jeans, a thoughtful look coming over his face as he found himself relaxing, his nerves slowly unwinding, like a tangled piece of rope coming undone. Her voice over the sound of the waves, soft and soothing. This was what it felt like to be alive, this was what it was all about, what made things worth it. He'd forgotten what it was to live, only to exist. He didn't notice her roll her eyes or duck her head; he was too busy savoring a moment that might never come again.

"This is what we fight for, Nim," he said quietly, his eyes opening slowly to regard her.

Jo Winchester

Date: 2012-05-28 08:20 EST
She'd let her eyes wander away, to gaze out over the flickering water in the silence that followed her little speech, but somehow she knew when he was about to open his eyes, turning her focus back to him with an unconsciously intimate smile curving her lips. Her gaze caressed his, softer in the instant she realised that he had not stumbled over her name, or even shown any difficulty in speaking it. "I know," she whispered back to him, not even trying to prevent herself from leaning close, the touch of their foreheads letting her nuzzle her nose to his tenderly as the lap of the water so close washed over them.

His eyes drifted closed against as her forehead came to rest against his, but then the wave came in, washing over their ankles and he gasped in surprise, jerking back and scooting away from the water. "Holy sh*t! It's cold!" He sucked in a breath, blowing it out and laughing at his own foolishness.

He wasn't the only one surprised, but Nim dissolved fast into giggling cackles of near hysterical laughter at the combination of her jump and his retreat. "God, you're such a baby," she laughed, tucking her fingers into both pairs of boots, tossing the footwear higher on the sand and offering him her hands again. "Scared of a little cold water, are we, princess?"

He laughed along with her. "I'm a baby"!" He climbed to his feet, taking hold of her hands and tugging her up with him. "We'll see who's a baby. I'm not afraid of anything!" he boasted. Okay, that wasn't quite true, but he was a man, and he wasn't about to admit his fears, at least not at the moment. He flashed a grin at her, amused by the irony of the moment. "You know, I once told someone I like long walks on the beach, but I've never even taken a long walk on the beach."

It was such a change to see him 'embrace the silly', as she'd put it. It wasn't that he wasn't feeling everything else in these few carefree moments, not at all; merely that for just a short while, those cares were set aside in the light of having a little innocent fun. "Well, here's your chance to find out if you lied," Nim told him with that intimate twinkle still deep in her eyes, pulling on one of his hands as she turned to plunge straight into the highest lap of the water on the sand, braving the cold to enjoy the refreshing feeling.

He didn't have much choice but to plunge into that wave, as well, as she tugged him along, and he gasped again as the shocking cold surprised him, but only for a moment. He smiled at her, looking genuinely happy. It was strange to feel such a wide range of emotions in so short a time, but for now, he embraced it because somehow he knew it wouldn't last forever. A mischievous gleam in his eyes, he ducked down to splash a cold stream of water at her with his fingertip, just enough to get her wet, but not to douse her in water.

He was rewarded with a genuine squeal as the cold stream soaked into her jeans and up into her shirt, too, an indignantly laughing scowl sent his way as she bent to plunge both hands into the water herself. Lifting them free, she flicked the droplets that lingered on her skin right back at him, spraying him with wriggling fingers. So what if it couldn't last' This was living, even if it was only for a few short moments at a time.

He laughed, not even bothering to shield himself from the splash of water that was soaking his tshirt and jeans, purposely stomping through the water and splashing about, like a little boy in a rain shower, kicking at a wave to splash water her way. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like this or felt so free.

"Hey!" Bigger feet made bigger splashes, and if she wasn't wet before, she definitely was now. Still laughing, though, she bent again, this time using her cupped hand to sweep a small wave of her own back at him. "You get to explain to the others why we're soaking!"

Rightfully, he was just as wet as she was, if not more; never really having had much of a childhood, it seemed almost as if he was making up for lost time. "It's your fault! It was your idea!" he reminded her, reaching for her arm to keep her from splashing him against and tugging her close, shocked by the sudden nearness of her and the undeniable desire he was having such a hard time controlling.

It was her turn to gasp this time as he pulled her to him, even in the midst of her slowly fading giggles, her hands more than content to find a place on his arm, creeping up to touch his cheek with her wet fingers as she smiled breathlessly up at him, caught between the strange juxtaposition of the cold water up to her calves and the very real heat that ripped up through her in answer to his closeness. "Your fault," she insisted nonetheless, teasing as ever as her fingertips eased down his throat.

His laughter faded as he found her close again, her touch doing nothing to still the desire that was stirring in him. He pushed a tangled, wet curl from her face, his fingers grazing her cheek, eyes shining in the moonlight. He could fall in love with her, right then and there, if only he allowed himself to open his heart, a heart that was so damaged he was afraid to let it care again. "Nim..." It was getting easier to say her name, the only name she knew. He paused, unsure what it was he wanted to say, unsure what it was exactly that he was feeling. First grief and then happiness, all in the expanse of a few short hours. "Thank you," he told her quietly, the words coming from the depths of his heart.

Such simple words, so heartfelt, enough to tighten her throat even as her smile softened under his gaze. She rose onto her toes in the lapping lake surf, brushing her lips to the very corner of his mouth. "Anytime," she promised, just as heartfelt as him in that moment. Anytime, anywhere, anything he wanted, anything he needed ....Nim knew now, here in the moonlight over Lake Michigan, that there was no other place for her but with Dean, no matter what was to come.

((Many thanks to Dean's player, as usual, for being totally awesome!))