Procrastinating, that's what they were doing. For a full day and two nights, the hunters gathered at Singer's Salvage Yard had been waiting on Brian Morgan to join them so that Dean would only have to make his explanation once to everyone there. Once Brian had arrived, it was a matter of waiting until he had slept off his long drive from Chicago. When he woke up, the next step was to feed everyone, to wait until he'd had a chance to reconnect with Nim and catch up with some of what had been shared among the little group. And now ....well, they were all going about their own business, ostensibly ignoring the elephant in the room.

Bobby was back at his books, a carefully copied set of the Anemoi sigils at his side as he worked on finding a way to make that warding more binding in its way, muttering to himself as he pored through text after text. Bill was stripping down his guns, cleaning and making them ready for action, whistling tunelessly through his teeth as he did so. Nim had disappeared out into the tiny bit of clean, scrap-free garden Ellen had reclaimed from Bobby's yard to gather in hers and Dean's clean clothing now it was dry, eager for something to do while putting off the inevitable. Dean was also nowhere in sight, though the good money was on shadowing Nim outside, going through the journal one more time while he put into order what it was he needed to tell everyone.

Which left Brian and Ellen in the kitchen. The last hunter to arrive in Sioux Falls had outright refused to let Ellen wash the dishes and tidy up alone, needing activity as much as the young woman he'd spent the past two years protecting, and Ellen wasn't about to turn away willing help. She'd set him to drying the dishes as they came out of the sink, the two of them falling to quiet conversation easily to fill the companionable silence. And naturally, the talk turned to that personal matter which seemed to have rocked everyone in the past few days.

"So I hear you're Nim's mother," Brian said with characteristic bluntness, not willing to beat around the bush. He was uncomfortable with knowing that Bill had been Nim's father in that other reality, however much the girl had reassured him of how little Harvelle meant to her when compared with him, but it was different with Ellen. Perhaps it was because he knew Ellen Singer, had known her for years where he'd only met William Harvelle that morning; perhaps it was as simple as understanding that Nim - or Jo - would benefit from some kind of maternal influence, and who better to offer that than the woman who would have been her mother if she'd been born here"

Ellen paused, laying her hands against the edge of the sink as she sighed softly, lifting her eyes to look through the window in front of them. Nim was visible out there, evidently taking her time despite the fact that she was tempting fate by being outside the line of sigils in the first place. "I guess that depends who you heard it from," the older woman told Brian, her voice firm. "Best source says she don't want me to know."

Brian snorted with laughter, rolling his eyes. "Screw what she ain't tellin' you - she told me and I'm tellin' you," he chuckled, carefully setting down the plate in his hands. He looked sideways at Ellen, curious to know what she thought of this strange situation. "What d'you think of it?"

"What do I think?" she repeated, draining the water from the sink and snagging a towel to dry her hands as she twisted to face Brian, one hip leaning against the counter. "I think they're both confused as all hell and need all the family they can get. He's not any better'n she is."

It was his turn to pause, wondering whether or not that had actually been an answer to his question. A low frown furrowed his brows, the expression accentuating the combed moustache on his upper lip. "That ain't quite what I meant, Ellen," he began, before cutting himself off. He let out a huff of breath, blue eyes flickering to the young woman visible through the window. "What d'you think of her?"

Again, Ellen paused, her glance this time turning to the two others inside the house, fondness in her eyes for Bobby that wasn't there when she looked at Bill. No matter how much they were told about the people they'd been in the reality that had spawned this Dean and his girl, nothing was ever going to make it so here. She was Ellen Singer to her core, and they all knew it. Knowing what he knew now, it couldn't be easy for Bill to be here, seeing the marriage between his friends as something he might have had in another time and place, but equally, Ellen knew it couldn't be easy for Brian to know that the closest thing his little woman had to blood was gathered in this house, too.

"Honestly?" she said finally, drawing her eyes back to Brian's slightly anxious gaze. "I don't know. She's barely spoke more'n two words to me at once so far, seems to go out of her way not to be in the same room. But she pushes Dean to spend time with me." She shrugged, turning her attention to wiping down the surfaces as they spoke. "I think she's pushin' Dean toward us and pullin' herself away, but I couldn't tell you why."

"I can." Brian offered her a smirking grin. It was hard not to feel smug when he knew now that Nim hadn't told anyone but him what was really on her mind. "It's what she doesn't know that's hurtin' her, Ellen," he explained quietly, his smug expression fading as he turned to a more serious contemplation of what was bothering his girl. "The way she describes it, there's this big ball of blank in her mind that sometimes throws up little bits and pieces. That's how she's gotten so close to Dean so quick - he's a part of that dark place she doesn't remember. At least not consciously."

"I can understand that, Brian, but what does it have to do with me?" Ellen asked, frowning in confusion as she looked up at her friend.

"She remembers you," he told her simply. "Not you you, obviously, but there's somethin' stirrin' in that noggin of hers and you're a part of it. Dean's told her all about how close she was to her mom, how much they loved each other, and she's heard all about how you feel about him, too. She's scared, simple as. Scared you won't like her."

Ellen dropped her cloth into the sink, her expression thunderously dumb-founded. "Now why would she be thinkin' like that?" she demanded in a low voice, not quite able to keep herself from taking offence at the younger woman's logical assumptions.

Brian snorted quietly, glancing into the study behind them with one brief but telling flicker of his eyes. "Seems she bit the bullet and told Bill about all this herself," he told Ellen in a quiet voice. "Got her hopes up that there'd be somethin' there, and got 'em crushed when she didn't feel anything. She don't remember him from their reality, and he didn't react so much when she told him. She ain't fixin' to gettin' herself all hopeful and fallin' apart on Dean again if the same thing happens with you."

So she ain't gonna take well to me just walkin' in on her doing anything, Ellen told herself in the silence of her mind. Not that it mattered; there was more than one way to skin a 'shifter, after all. She nodded, grateful to Brian for having explained this to her. At least now she knew to handle the girl gently until that shock of disappointment was done. No wonder Nim had gone mournful on Dean - the girl was mourning a life and a family she didn't remember without even knowing it. Seeing the easy way they had gathered Dean into their circle without a second thought couldn't have helped at all. And if Ellen knew Dean - which she did, whether he liked it or not - they were going to have to keep this one from him or face another guilt-fest as he blamed himself for something he had absolutely no control over.

"You'll see," was the older woman's knowing response. She drew open the closet furthest from the door, and withdrew from inside an opaque dress bag, hanging it carefully on the outside of the door. One hand gently lowered the zipper, revealing what was inside. There, wrapped in clear plastic, was Ellen's own wedding dress - nothing fancy, but obviously well-loved. She smiled at the memories that came with looking on the ivory dress, gesturing toward Nim. "You get those clothes off and let's see what needs adjusting here."

Dark eyes were again staring at the older woman in shock. It didn't take a genius to work out what was going on here. "Ellen, I can't wear your wedding dress," Nim objected softly, rocked deep to her core by this unexpectedly generous offer. "You don't know me, it doesn't make any sense for you to do this -"

"Oh, balls," was Ellen's mildly censuring reply to the girl's objections, evidence of too many years spent in the company of Bobby's favorite expletive. "Only worn once, makes no sense to leave it hanging dry when there's a need for it." She looked pointedly over at Nim. "You gonna take those clothes off, or do I have to do it for you?"

Something in the tone snapped deep into Nim, into the blankness of her forgotten memories that she'd been trying so hard to avoid stirring over the day. There was no arguing with that tone, and to her genuine surprise, she found she didn't actually want to argue. This, strange as it was, felt right; it felt like something ....like something a mother would do. A faint flush painted the younger hunter's cheeks as she stripped her shirt off over her head, turning away to set the garment on the bed. "I wasn't really thinking of wearing a dress," she confessed softly. "I'm not really a skirts or dresses kind of person."

"Neither am I," Ellen chuckled, unwrapping the dress from the protective plastic before turning to pull a substantial-looking sewing box out of the closet. "But some days you make an effort for, and one of those is your wedding. Don't you worry none, he'll be dressed up for it, too, I'll see to that." She gestured for Nim to hurry up. "C'mon, girl, get it on. We'll have to find you some shoes - you're not gettin' married in those workaday boots of yours."

Shedding her boots and jeans, Nim only had a moment to be embarrassed at her half-dressed state before Ellen was throwing the beautifully simply dress over her head, tucking her hair out of the way to close the zipper at her back. Just as the older woman had said, it was only a little big for her in places - embarrassingly, one of those places was the bust, but she had a feeling Ellen wouldn't let her gripe about her handful. "Ellen, this is lovely, but -"

"No buts." This was declared through a mouthful of pins as Ellen turned her attention to taking the dress in, feeling no sentimentality about adjusting the dress she had been married in for a young woman who might, was, and would be her daughter to do the same. "Just stand normal and let me get this done." Her hands were swift and sure, careful to draw the soft material close but not tight about the girl watching her with wide eyes, pinning each adjustment securely in place. "All right, off it comes."

Nim wasn't entirely sure what was going on. How had they gone from discussing the laundry in the kitchen to this" She had a feeling someone was pulling her strings again, but without knowing who, she didn't have a hope of making an accurate accusation. And it felt nice, to be bossed around in such an oddly affectionate way, to be bullied into doing as she was told in a way that was so familiarly unfamiliar. It felt like family, in a way that her talk with Bill had been lacking. Perhaps she'd been a little hasty in wanting to keep the truth from Ellen.

With a little help, she slipped out of the pinned dress, turning to tug her clothes back on again. "Why are you doing this?" she asked quietly, needing to know that this generous behavior wasn't purely to convince Dean that his girl was accepted.

Ellen stilled in her careful packaging of the dress, a gently saddened look on her face as she gazed into the middle distance, looking at a memory that both warmed and pained her. It was a moment before she spoke, turning her brown eyes onto the face of the young woman who watched her, seeing those tiny similarities that - had they shared a reality sooner - might have marked Nimue as her daughter.

"I lost my first husband to a vampire," she said slowly, her voice low as she moved to sit beside Nim on the bed. "The shock of him attackin' me lost the baby I didn't know I was carrying, too. Must've done some damage, so the doctors said - weren't no hope I'd have another. And for a long time, I was sad. There wasn't anything I wanted more than to have a family. That was what tossed me into hunting, knocked me into Bobby's path."

She smiled again, this time at the memory of her first meeting with her husband, one hand gently moving to pat Nim's as her story continued. "Now I came to terms with that, I knew I'd never have children of my own," Ellen said calmly, her eyes studying the familiar face turned to hers, touched by the way the girl seemed to feel acutely the emotion that rippled through the telling. "I got to help raise the Winchester boys, and that was close enough. I know your Dean ain't my Dean exactly, but he's still like a son to me. He's still got a special place in my rusty old heart. But what I really wanted, what I've always wanted, was a little girl ....a daughter to fill that ache I still got from all those years ago." Her gaze settled on Nim's, quiet and piercing. "And now I do, don't I?"

Hearing Ellen tell her tale was quietly heartbreaking for Nim to absorb, understanding in some deep, unknown way that she could have been the baby lost in that attack in this reality. Her hands curled about Ellen's as she listened, finding a way to reconcile her jealousy of the woman's feelings for Dean with the story as it was told. And to realize in that moment that the older woman knew the truth, understood the bridging link between them was more than just different love for the same man, was shocking enough to make her gasp. "I didn't want him to tell you," she whispered uncertainly. "I didn't ....I wasn't ..."

"You didn't want to be disappointed again," Ellen said gently, squeezing the girl's hand. Her smile was warm, but there was no demand in her, no expectation of the trust that would have to be allowed to grow with time. "Now I don't pretend to know what you're feelin', how hard this is for you to take in. All I'm saying here and now is that you're family, Nimue, and not just because you're marryin' that c*cky son of a bitch downstairs. You gotta lot more to offer than just being his wife in this house. Maybe, give it time, and things'll feel right between us. But I'm gonna ask you now ....don't you hide away from me. You're my daughter, no matter how or where it happened, and, if you think you can, I'd like to be your mother, sometime."

The something stirring deep in Nim's forgotten memory rippled with the shock of recognition all over again, and again she heard this woman's voice deep in her mind, a memory she couldn't hear or place. I will always love you, baby ....It's okay, it's okay. That's my good girl. Staring into Ellen's eyes, she could see the genuine wish there, the longing for a daughter that was so close to being fulfilled, and for all that she didn't want to face that hurt if it didn't come off, Nim couldn't deny that she wanted the familiarity of a mother just as badly. It was different with Bill - she had no stirring in her blank memory for him. He could be a friend, but Brian was the man she'd taken for a father and no one could oust him from that place. But Ellen ....Ellen was special.

"I think I'd like that," she said softly, ashamed of the way her voice broke as she spoke. "Might take time, but ....It'd be a real honor, I think."

"Good girl." Ellen unwrapped her hand from the younger woman's grasp, squeezing her arm about Nim's shoulders for the briefest moment before rising to her feet. It would take time, yes, and time was what she intended to make sure they had. "Enough with the feelings talk. Let's get downstairs and get started before we start turnin' into stone dogs."

Nim let out a quiet burst of laughter at this abrupt change of topic, grateful to the woman for knowing when not to push too hard or too far. She quickly tied her laces, straightening from the bed to open the door, following Ellen back down the stairs and into the study. It was time to stop procrastinating. Some things just couldn't be put off any longer.