Title: Nothing and Everything

Chapter 19

Notes: There are two years given for Bill Harvelle’s death, 1986 or 1995. Neither was given onscreen (which I consider to be only canon), so I chose the off-screen version that has him dying later, in 1995, for the purposes of this story.

~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting with Death had in no way gone how Abigael expected it to. She’d assumed she was going to be taken to task before Death dispatched her to wherever angels went when they died and it had hardly been the case. Death had something else in mind, something that bothered her. The unfairness of it ate at her, a human thing that she and Castiel both felt because they’d formed a connection to the Winchesters. Her connection was primarily with Jack, yet she felt for all of them. Castiel had encouraged her to form connections.

“Abigael.”

She turned as Lachesis called her name, not really feeling like chatting with the Fate right now. “What?”

“Wait up.”

Castiel stood with her until Lachesis made a shooing motion with one hand. “Girl stuff, Castiel. Privacy please?”

He sighed, his frown growing deeper, as though he didn’t particularly like Abigael having private conversations with a Fate. “I have duties,” he said and disappeared.

Lachesis glanced back at the room they’d all come from. “Come back inside a moment.”

“Why?”

“Clotho, Atropos, and I need a conference with you.”

She crossed her arms and waited for an explanation.

“Don’t be stubborn. You need to be aware of some of the changes that will occur, matters that weren’t discussed in the first meeting. This is your job, remember? You guard and you need to be informed of changes so we’re informing you.”

“Why all three of you?”

“Because.”

That reasoning was as good as the pre-War arguments that had been given. Abigael rolled her eyes, but followed Lachesis back into the room The other two Fates were waiting. Death was gone. Clotho took a folder from her briefcase and set it on the table. “Take a moment and familiarize yourself with this information, then we’ll discuss.”

She read through it, pausing every so often to glance up at them. This wasn’t the brief overview of what she’d looked at earlier, but a deeper look at the details and timeline involved. “Is this right?”

“There will be minor free will adjustments as usual, but yes. This is how events are slated to transpire at present.”

“Castiel --”

“Can’t know.” Lachesis shook her head. “Abigael, it’s not his place. It’s yours. You’re the Guardian, not him. He may act like one on occasion, but it isn’t his job. He’s in a supervisory position over the Guardians. He’s not one of you. He can’t know some of the things you do. I mean…did you tell him all about Jack’s life after I spoke with you on it?”

“No. Of course not. He’s not Jack’s guardian. I am.”

“Then you can’t tell him any of this either.” Atropos crossed her arms. “There’s more than one purpose working here. Death’s…and God’s. It’s not Castiel’s place to see the threads as we make sure they’re laid out. We do God’s work and cooperate with Death. Like you.”

“Really, you could be considered part of our team,” Lachesis added.

“I have to keep this from Castiel?” She didn’t like that part of it and she wasn’t sure she liked being considered part of the Fates and their team.

“Yes. All of it.” Clotho closed the folder. “Now, let’s discuss specifics: where you may intervene and where you may not. There are a few places that could be tricky for you to navigate.”

The meeting took far longer than the meeting with Death had and Abigael was fascinated by this deeper look into the jobs of the three Fates. They juggled far more than she’d ever thought possible, took care of intricacies Abigael hadn’t considered. The things she discovered in the course of their meeting gave her an appreciation for their jobs she’d not previously had. There was almost a sort of beauty in it. A sad beauty at times, but beauty nonetheless in the way matters worked together.

She left heaven and took up her position at the Winchester base once more, a bit calmer and a bit wiser than she’d been.

~~~~~~~~~~

While Dean was irritated with having to leave so soon after returning to their base, he understood the urgency Sam was feeling. He’d be antsy too if he thought he’d found a connection.

“What’s the connection?”

Sam looked up from the papers he was studying. The front seat was littered with folders and papers. “What?”

“The connection?” Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and shrugged. “The reason we’re heading out to West Virginia less than two hours after I got back from a trip?”

“The town Mick disappeared in and the town our building is in are about ten miles apart. If that.”

“And?”

While he waited for more, there wasn’t more forthcoming. “Sam? Tell me we aren’t driving to West Virginia on a hunch.”

“Not a hunch exactly. Don’t you find it too much of a coincidence that the two towns are so close? I mean for Mick to disappear right there…it’s got to be something.”

He sighed. Sam was desperate to find something that would connect something and make sense somehow and apparently this was it. He wanted to help Gwen, he wanted to help Mick, and he wanted an end to both matters, but for the building and Mick to be connected? Dean thought it was a stretch. “I think you’re reaching,” Dean glanced at him, “and that’s okay. The building needed looked at anyway and there’s a chance we might find the box while we’re there.” He managed to drive for a few minutes before adding, “Really? You don’t have anything else? Anything at all? Cryptic message he’d scrawled to Sophie or something?”

“No. It’s just too much of a coincidence for me. We have a property, a building, in one town and Mick just happens to disappear in the next town over?”

“Things like that happen.”

“To normal people in normal lives maybe. To hunters? No. To us? Especially not. Things like that happen to us, Dean. Review our history. There’s no such thing as coincidence in our lives.”

Sam had a good point, Dean had to admit that. “Yeah, okay. We’re going, we’ll check it out.”

The town wasn’t quite what Dean had expected. It was smaller than he’d thought. Maybe when they’d put up the sign it had been over fifteen hundred people. Now, he wondered if there were even eight hundred. The motel was right on the edge of town and had to be the worst one they’d ever stayed at -- and they’d stayed in some grungy places over the years. This was worse than any of the places they’d ever squatted in even. He wasn’t sure he’d even chance taking his shoes off. Was that mushrooms growing in the corner? For posterity’s sake, he took a few pictures of the grossest bits of the room to show to Jo later. She wouldn’t believe him without pictures.

“I’m sleeping in the car tonight,” Sam announced, shouldering his bag without having set it down. “You can risk needing a tetanus shot, but I’m not. How much was this place?”

“About twenty.”

“We’re overpaying. I don’t think the maid has been here in twenty.”

Dean gave the room a glance. It was dusty, grimy, and also had cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling. “I don’t think there’s ever been a maid, but the shower looks…slightly…usable, so that’s worth it.” Maybe. He stepped into the bathroom and ran the tap in the sink. The water came out a rusty brown and smelled like something had died in the pipe. To be fair, something probably had. He grimaced, coughing a little at the smell. “Okay, so maybe not.”

Sam’s snicker was almost too low to be heard, but he didn’t say ‘I told you so’. “You get a picture of the mold in the corner for Jo?” He gestured towards it.

“And one of the crusty bedspread.” He had a pretty good idea what had made the bedspread crusty and was rather impressed by how much of one bedspread was crusty.

“The mushrooms in the corner?”

“Are those mushrooms? I wasn’t sure. Think they’re edible?” He was teasing with the last part, but Sam took him seriously.

“Are you kidding? No.”

“Yeah, I’m kidding. I’m not two, Sam. I know better than to eat things I find growing in my motel room.”

“I’m definitely sleeping in the car.”

“Might be a wise decision.” They put their bags back in the trunk and Dean squinted at the road. “Clerk says Montgomery street is about a block north.”

Across the street was a dollar store, a rundown family restaurant, and a post office. The post office was closed. There was a gas station on their right and then they were at the downtown section of town. Dean counted one church, four bars, and a car dealer that might or might not be out of business, along with several empty storefronts. “Should be around the corner.”

They rounded the corner and stopped, mouths opening.

Dean groaned. “Houston, we have a problem.”

The address for their building was rubble and ruin, along with the one beside it. There wasn’t much left that they could see.

“So….” Sam put his hands in his coat pockets. “I’m thinking some coffee at the restaurant sounds like a good idea.”

“Maybe some dinner.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, Dean.”

“No rule against an early dinner.”

“Except you’ll want another dinner about seven.”

He had to concede that as true and ordered food anyway. Chopped beef with mashed potatoes and the vegetable of the day. Sam ordered a salad. What came out looked okay, not the most appealing presentation ever, but decent. However, the first bite made him think there was no way in hell he was going to eat much of this meal. Overcooked, mushy, bland…. Not even a liberal application of salt and pepper helped. The meat had a strange taste he couldn’t identify. Venison maybe? Whatever it was certainly wasn’t beef like the menu said. A hundred different horror movies came to mind at that realization. He’d seen enough of them to know what was usually served in place of beef and it wasn’t animal meat.

Appetite gone, Dean stopped eating and shoved his plate aside. He struggled to swallow the bite he’d taken. Whatever it was seemed to just grow the more he chewed it. With a loud gulp, he managed to get it down.

A glance across the table showed that Sam wasn’t faring well with his salad either. The lettuce had a weird sheen to it and Sam picked at it rather than eat. Finally, he too abandoned his plate.

They were the only customers, so with a couple of smiles, Dean managed to charm their server, Margie, into talking with them awhile. “What can you tell us about the old store down on Montgomery?”

Sam took a small notebook out of his coat pocket and clicked a pen open.

Margie narrowed her eyes at them. “You police of some kind?”

“Let’s just say we’re interested in the former building.” Sam directed a slight smile her way.

“Interested how?”

Dean took a drink of coffee and tried not to gag. This town was ranking as the worst of everything so far. Worst motel, worst property, worst food, and definitely the worst coffee. He didn’t think Jo and Gwen were going to believe them about it either no matter what documentation they had. “Oh, we can’t say, Margie. But, uh,” he leaned over towards her a fraction, “those rumors of a chain store coming this way might have a bit of truth to them.”

Sam frowned at him.

He ignored it. “We’re scouts for the company. Any information is helpful.”

That apparently decided it for her. She set the coffee pot down and pulled up a chair from the next table, her voice lowering. “Happened around Christmas. Robbers blew the vault in the bank, but miscalculated. Both buildings came down and the robbers died inside. Made such a ruckus! I’d never heard such a thing in my years of living here. Boom! Dust went up and everything!”

Sam looked up from the notebook. “Anything weird happen after?”

“Well…. Some people claim they heard this scream coming from the old store, like a real pissed off animal, though no one ever found one. Probably buried in the rubble.”

“Anyone contact the owner that you know of?” Sam closed the notebook he’d been writing in.

“Sure did. No reply. City is looking into suing them for unpaid clean-up fees and the sheriff wants answers.”

“Doesn’t look too cleaned up to me,” Dean remarked.

“That? That is cleaned up compared to what was there and the weird shit we all saw exposed.”

“Weird? How so?”

“Funny looking boxes with symbols on them, jars with all sorts of things in them, a single bug that looked like some sort of locust only malformed, bones the local doc says are human…. You know. Satanic stuff. That kind of weird. I mean, we’re a nice town and that sort of shit freaks us out.”

Nice town? Maybe thirty or fifty years ago maybe. All it was now was rundown and dying, like many other little towns across the U.S..

“Some people though…. Some people looted as soon as they were able to get in there. Most of what was there is gone now, carted off lazy good for nothings hoping to make a fast buck or by police.”

“Did they find the owner at all?”

“Dead end is what I heard.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re certainly welcome.” She smiled wide at them. “I’m sure being a company and all you have better resources to find the owners, right? We sure could use a good store here. The jobs would be appreciated.”

“I’m sure they would,” Sam said, putting the notebook away.

“You boys like some pie? Just baked a fresh apple one.”

Dean shook his head. As much as he was tempted by pie, he didn’t want it forever ruined by what she’d likely bring out. He sat back and put a hand on his stomach. “I’m stuffed, Margie. Can’t eat another bite.”

“You sure? You barely ate a thing.”

“We’ll just take the check.”

Stepping onto the sidewalk, Sam looked at him. “You feeling okay?”

“A little indigestion maybe, why?” A little didn’t cover it. He had a lot of indigestion just from the few bites he’d eaten. Whatever the meat was wasn’t sitting right.

“You turned down pie.”

“So?”

“Dean, you never turn down pie. I’ve seen you eat pie that probably had fuzz in it it was so old.”

“Would you have eaten it?”

“The pie with the fuzz? No. I’d told you to throw it away, remember?”

“No, I mean the pie she’d bring out.”

He snorted. “After the meal we had? No. I never knew plain salad with no dressing could be greasy. We taking another look at the site?”

“Might as well while we’re here.”

Minutes later, once Sam had retrieved the camera, they stepped carefully into the wreckage. The town was quiet. It didn’t appear there was anyone to even see them there. Dean crouched, carefully raising a piece of fallen ceiling while Sam took pictures and video, getting close-ups on the smashed boxes and symbols that were present.

“Nice to find a genuine toxic waste dump,” Sam remarked. “I was beginning to wonder where they put the really nasty things.”

“Guess they never expected the building to blow.” There was barely anything left, but they’d box up what they could and take it to the Harvelle building they owned. Jo and Ellen both agreed it was best to use it. “You see any sign of an animal?”

“No.” He crouched down by another section of ceiling. “Hey, Dean. Come look at this.”

‘This’ was a symbol barely visible on the floor. He helped Sam move pieces of debris until they had a clearer view of it. “You ever seen anything like that?”

Sam shook his head, then snapped a few pictures. “No. Looks similar to a devil’s trap, but those aren’t the right symbols. They look almost medieval…. Maybe…. You know, I might have seen some of the symbols before somewhere. Can’t figure out…. A book?” He began to shoot some video, sweeping the camera around. “Whatever they are, it’s a binding for something.”

Dean walked the perimeter of it, then looked at some of the debris they’d shifted away from it. It looked like the same symbols on the ceiling pieces. “That look like the same symbol to you?” He pointed, then began dragging pieces together. What he pieced was the same as what was on the floor.

“A double binding.” A frown creased his brow. “They wanted to make sure it was caught.” Sam stepped over to the pile they’d made of debris and sifted through it, pulling out wooden pieces. As he laid them out, Dean noticed the symbols corresponded with the floor/ceiling symbols.

“Triple binding,” he corrected, touching a finger to one piece. It had been the lid at one point. In the middle of the lid was a dark stain that looked suspiciously like old blood. “What the hell were they trying to keep in here?”

“Something nasty.”

He sighed and pulled out his phone, taking a few pictures and sending them to Gwen, Jo, Ellen, and Bobby with the message that he’d appreciate it if they’d get a head start on finding out what the symbols meant. Then he called Jo and explained that they were going to be a couple days, maybe longer cleaning up. They’d be back when they could.

The sound of Jack’s nonsensical babble in the background made his heart constrict just a little and he told Jo he loved her before hanging up. He was going to miss Valentine’s Day and the spicy little extra he’d had planned for himself and Jo, but this needed cleaned up. First though, they were checking out the motel in the town Mick had disappeared from and making a switch to it if it was decent.

It didn’t take more than a couple days to box up what remained. They’d show it all to Bobby when they got back, see what he made of it.

As for Mick’s disappearance, they found nothing to add to what Sophie had already found. Mick was just gone. With little evidence he‘d been there at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bobby went down the length of the table, peering at each box or bit of box. Sam and Dean had been thorough in cleaning up the debris. The video they’d taken supported that. They’d taken before and after shots in case they’d managed to miss something. Bobby didn’t touch anything with his bare hands and if he did touch something, he used tongs or put on a pair of thick leather gloves.

Through his careful scrutiny he was at least able to tell them one useful fact beyond the fact that the symbols were medieval like Sam had thought they were. “They aren’t any of my boxes. Mine are usually branded with my mark somewhere.”

“Branded?”

“A craftsman takes pride in his work, Dean. Just a little something so if I run across one of mine that didn’t contain an object, creature, or hellspawn like it was supposed to --”

“Wait. Object, creature, or hellspawn?”

“Yeah.” He waited for the question he knew was coming.

“Why contain?”

“Because some things can only be contained. You kill ‘em it messes things up and if you let ‘em live it messes things up. Better to put ‘em in a box and store them somewhere.”

“You mean like quarantining a computer virus instead of deleting it because it’d do more damage to destroy it or leave it?” Sam looked excited by that. “Containing it is the only thing you can do.”

“I do mean like. There are creatures and hellspawn that got bound to the earth somehow a long time ago. Bad-ass magic. You destroy them, you put the world out of whack. Contain them and nothing goes any wonkier than usual.”

“Forcing a genie into a bottle,” Dean replied.

“Something like that.” He reached for a book and opened it, then closed it and rummaged until he found a different one. “Here. This’ll give you a general overview of the creature angle. Lot of creatures fall into that category. Some soul-stealers, shadow walkers, things like that. They’re bad mothers, but if you provoke them by trying to contain them and fail or succeed and the binding gets broken? Well, pick out your gravestone because they won’t rest until they’ve gotten revenge on those who bound them. They’ll snuff out a family line to keep from ever getting bound again. And then they’ll go on doing what they do best: putting the world out of whack.”

Dean perused the page. “How did we not know about this already?”

Bobby shrugged. “Beats me. I been telling you this stuff for years now. It’s like it goes in one of your ears and right out the other.” He directed a pointed stare Dean’s way.

“What does what,” was Dean’s distracted reply, but before Bobby could reach out and smack him upside the head like he was tempted to do, Dean looked up and grinned at him.

“You’re a pain in my ass sometimes, Dean.”

“You think that’s what we found?” Sam looked over Dean’s shoulder at the book. “A binding that was broken?”

“It’s possible,” Bobby replied. “They definitely wanted to keep something in with triple locks.”

“How do you bind one?” Sam took the book from Dean and began to flip pages.

“I’ve never bound one, but from what I remember reading in there,” he gestured at the book, “you have to somehow separate it from the body it’s using and that’s the hard part. Standard anti-possession charms don’t seem to work, least none we know about, and they get in anything. Human, animal, monster. If it’s humanoid it’s definitely fair game.”

“Monsters preying on monsters.” Sam turned back a page. “Are all these creatures like that? Equal opportunity?” He glanced up.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Not like I know everything.”

“You don’t know everything?” Dean sighed theatrically. “The illusion is shattered. How can I ever go on?”

“How about with my boot up your ass? You’re in a helluva mood tonight.”

“Came back to find Jack’s got an ear infection along with teeth coming in.”

“Fun.”

“Not so much really. Parenthood sucks sometimes.”

He wouldn’t argue with that.

“Go on.” Sam ran a finger down the page.

Bobby wasn’t sure Sam had paid the least bit of attention to the exchange he’d just had with Dean. He gestured at the book. “What I know is in that book, Sam. Those creatures…. If lore is right, then one hunter can’t stop one because they’re too strong. You need two or more depending on which creature it is. The stronger it is the more hunters needed to bind it again. You’ve gotta tag team it.”

“How do we know what creature it is?”

“We look at the symbols I’m guessing,” Dean said, sitting on the edge of the desk. “It’s a good bet there was more than a single Campbell involved, right? I mean, it was in our building, though I guess it could be a Harvelle or…Carys property. And if it gets rid of family lines, any one of us could be targeted if this thing is free and it wasn’t just an empty box all ready just in case whatever it was got free again.”

That was an odd pause before saying ‘Carys’. Bobby didn’t ask, however. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Gwen’s real family was beginning to sound as messed up as the Campbells. “It’s supposed to be rare that binding works and in my lifetime, there’s only been one that….” He broke off. Something niggled at the back of his brain, a sliver of memory he couldn’t quite bring into focus. Getting older wreaked havoc on the speed of information recall. Who was it who’d told him about the containment and given him the book? “You boys read through that. I got to make a call or two.”

Several futile calls later, Bobby remembered who had told him about the containment and given him that book.

Bill Harvelle.

Bill had been the one closing the Roadhouse one night and had let Bobby stay so they could continue their conversation. It had been after everyone had gone that he’d brought out the book and told Bobby about a containment he’d once witnessed, though now that Bobby thought about it, he wondered if ‘been involved in’ was a better description of what had happened. Bill hadn’t told him the names of anyone else involved, but he could speculate now. Bill Harvelle, Aaron Carys, and Neal Campbell. Maybe even Patricia had been involved. Bill had poured himself a drink and downed it as he spoke, hand shaking. He’d talked mostly of what had led up to the containment, of finding his parents dead, of joining hunters to track the creature.

Bobby sighed and stepped back into the room. Sam was studying the book like it was the answer to a prayer and Dean was slouched on the couch watching him. Bobby cleared his throat, garnering both their attention. “Good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Good,” Dean sat up.

“I remember who gave me the book and he once witnessed a containment, though I think ‘witness’ was a euphemism for ‘participated in’.”

“Awesome.” Dean clapped his hands together once.

“What’s the bad news,” Sam asked.

“He’s dead and has been for years.”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean slumped back on the couch with an irritated frown and roll of his eyes. “Anyone we might’ve heard of?”

“Uh-huh.” Bobby nodded. “You’re married to his daughter, Dean.”

“Bill Harvelle?” Sam closed the book he’d been looking at. “Really? He was part of a containment? He didn’t leave any journals did he?”

“Nothing I know of that mentioned the containment unless he changed his mind and wrote about it later. It was one of those late night confessions, like he had to tell someone about it and I was the closest person there that he trusted. Said he never wrote down anything about it and never would, that it was the worst few days of his life.”

“Details?”

“Nothing that you could use. He told me about finding his folks dead, watching the papers to find a trail of the creature, things like that. He didn’t give me details of the containment, Sam.”

“You think he told Ellen?”

Thinking about it, he slowly shook his head. There were parts of his life before he’d married her that Bill hadn’t shared with Ellen. “No. I think the containment was one of the secrets he hadn’t told her yet when he died.” There’d been things he hadn’t been sure how to tell Ellen, like how long his family had been in hunting and just how freaky the world was.

He could see the disappointment on their faces and decided he’d try to find a way to talk to Ellen about it. It’d have to be in a quiet moment, yet not when she was feeling vulnerable. Memories of Bill still got her teary-eyed and he didn’t want her crying.

Bobby hoped to help her finally let go of Bill Harvelle. He could turn on the charm when he wanted and planned to charm Ellen so thoroughly that she never knew what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

After days of Jack’s ear infection and slow tooth coming in, Jo was ready for a break. She was ready for some time alone with her husband.

For Valentine’s Day, a late Valentine’s Day anyway since they’d still been gone, Dean wanted something special. More specifically, he wanted a fulfillment of their Christmas bargain. Sam and Gwen had gone on a job so they could be alone for a couple days and since Ellen was on a date, Jodie was babysitting Jack for a few hours. She’d been happy to take him, a thing that had surprised Jo a little, but her mother trusted Jodie, so she’d decided it’d be okay for a few hours. They’d pick him up by midnight.

They had privacy and Jo thought that was a good thing. She suspected she was going to be feeling a little silly doing this.

Jo opened the box that had come earlier in the day.

‘Deluxe Saloon Girl’ costume.

She pulled out the pieces with a frown, laying them out on the bed. Somehow, she doubted the historical accuracy, but Dean was giddy at finally convincing her to do a full out costumed role play so she’d just put it on and give him a nice present.

“The things we women do for our man,” she muttered.

When she’d put the outfit on and done a little make-up, she thought she didn’t look too bad. Wasn’t her usual sort of look, but Dean was sure to enjoy it. She filled up the pink water gun he’d included with the box and made her way downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

Some hunts simply weren’t meant to be, Gwen reflected, taking her bag from Sam and reaching for the doorknob on the front door. They’d gotten to the site only to find the matter had been taken care of the day before, so they’d turned around and headed home rather than waste money on a motel room. She opened the door and stopped a few feet into the living room, Sam bumping into her before he, too saw what she did.

Jo and Dean were in costume. Jo had one foot propped up, her frilly skirt high on her thigh and it looked like Dean was trying to remove a garter with his teeth while his hands were tied behind his back. She had a pink water gun pointed at him.

Dean’s grin wasn’t the least bit embarrassed, while Jo turned bright red and reached for the blanket draped on the back of the couch. “I’m the Sheriff,” Dean explained, “and this saloon girl is being really naughty.”

“Of course she is. How could she not,” Sam replied without missing a beat.

“What are you doing back,” Jo hissed.

“Another hunter beat us to it,” Gwen said, trying not to laugh at the picture the two presented.

Jo pointed a finger at her. “Filter,” she demanded.

“I can only filter so much.” The laughter was welling up and there was little she could do to stop it.

“Do it anyway,” Jo demanded.

Sam took Gwen’s arm, trying to maneuver her back the little bit to the door. “Okay. We’re gonna head out, have a nice long late dinner somewhere and be back about, uh, ten? That give you plenty of time, Dean?”

He looked at Jo and shrugged his brows before looking back at Sam. “Can you make it eleven?”

“You could go upstairs,” Sam suggested. “You have the entire upstairs.”

“We could,” Dean agreed, nodding.

“But you’re not going to.”

“Nope. The atmosphere down here more saloon-like.”

Snickers left Gwen’s lips. “Yee-haw. Did you do the Can-Can?”

“Eleven it is.” Sam shoved her out the door before she could say anything else.

Gwen let Sam lead her to the car. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that,” she said, getting in and putting on her seatbelt.

Sam chuckled as he started the car. “And you’ve known Dean how long now?”

“Never occurred to me.” She shook her head. “The sheriff and the saloon girl. Creative.”

“Dean…likes adventure. And the old west.”

“Obviously.”

“Maybe we should have called.”

“Nah.” She shook her head. Doing so would have deprived Gwen of this amusement. “Did you see Jo’s face? I’m going to get so much mileage out of this….”

Sam glanced at her as he drove. She sounded like Dean right then. “Okay, you’re enjoying Jo’s mortification a little too much.”

“Gotta have something to kid her about.” She looked out the window at the passing scenery. “Where are we going?”

“I was thinking the steak place near Ellen’s?”

“Sure.”

The restaurant was the sort of dark best called ‘romantic’. In Gwen’s opinion, they served the best steak in the area. After ordering, Sam took her hands in his, his expression shifting. She saw nervousness and uncertainty flicker there in his eyes and knew that whatever was on his mind was a weighty matter. His thumbs slid across her skin, lips parting. Gwen almost asked if something was wrong, some of her ease in their dinner fading away. He looked so earnest and solemn.

A familiar laugh close by caught her attention and she glanced away from Sam, mildly surprised by what she saw.

~~~~~~~~~~

While Sam could understand Gwen’s amusement at Jo’s reaction at being caught role-playing, she probably needed to wait awhile before kidding Jo about it. From experience, he knew it was best to let the embarrassment fade a little. That way the teasing remained friendly.

He chose the restaurant primarily because it was close and because they hadn’t had steak in awhile. Contrary to Dean’s frequent words on the subject, Sam did eat things besides vegetables, fruit, and chicken. He did like the occasional burger or steak. The restaurant was perfect for what Sam had had half planned for a couple weeks. It was dark, the atmosphere intimate, and Gwen was happy right now, smiling. As her deadline approached, her smiles would become less and less.

He wasn’t going to dwell on the possibility that the Trickster would take her away, shoving aside thoughts of the deadline and taking Gwen’s hands in his. No time like the present. The words he wanted to say were there in the back of his mind, but he wasn’t sure how to say them. Maybe…. Was he even ready to do this? Ellen had said he’d know when the time was right. Was it right?

A hearty feminine laugh distracted him and he saw Gwen frown.

He knew that laugh. He’d heard it many times.

Gwen turned her head, gaze searching the restaurant.

The laugh came again and there she was. Ellen. With Bobby.

Not just with him, but with him with him. They were on the same side of the table, Bobby’s arm around Ellen’s shoulders, pressed together. As Sam watched, the two kissed with the lack of restraint Dean and Jo usually displayed. His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“When Ellen said she wanted to live her life again, she…meant it.” Gwen cleared her throat, lip curling a little. “It’s like seeing your parents making out.”

He snickered a little, but had to agree, though he’d never had that particular experience. He decided it was probably a good thing it was sort of dark in the building. “They look happy,” he offered.

“Happy isn’t exactly the word I’d use, though mine begins with an ‘h’ too.”

“Maybe we should leave.”

“Our food hasn’t come yet.”

“Oh. Yeah. You do know there’s no way they won’t see us, right? We’re right by the door.”

“It’s a free country. We can eat dinner here, too.”

True to his words, Ellen and Bobby passed right by them. “Hey, you two.” Ellen dragged Bobby to a stop. “When did you get here? We didn’t see you walk in.”

“Not surprised,” Gwen muttered only half under her breath.

Ellen frowned. “What was that?”

“Oh, uh, there was a crowd came in the same time we did.” Sam hurried to say that, though a glance around the restaurant showed his words to be false. At this hour, there was hardly anyone there.

Bobby put an arm around Ellen’s waist and didn’t say anything.

“Crowd, huh.” A faint amused smile began to curve Ellen’s lips.

“To-go orders?” He hadn’t meant it to be a question though it came out as one.

Ellen laughed. “Of course.” She glanced at Bobby. “To-go orders.” She winked at them. “Enjoy your dinner.”

When they were gone, he blew a breath out. “Why is it I’m the one feels embarrassed right now for catching them all over each other?”

Gwen grinned and laughed. “I don’t know.”

“Do we tell Jo?”

Her grin faded slightly. “Do you want to?”

“No. I really don’t want to be the one to tell her Ellen and Bobby were all over each other in Mackenzie’s Steakhouse.”

“Then we say nothing.” She took a drink of her vodka collins. “Maybe we should be all over each other, too. I mean, first Jo and Dean, then Ellen and Bobby. Could be a sign we’re not being romantic enough.”

“Not being romantic enough, huh?”

“We are in a dark restaurant, Sam.” Gwen reached out and took his hands in hers. “Now, where were we? About here, I think. You started to say something?”

Sam studied her. The moment was gone, that perfect moment he’d thought had been there and he squeezed her hands with his. “I was just gonna say you look amazing right now.”

“You’re sweet.”

“Not all the time.”

“It’d be boring if you were.”

The moment was definitely gone and Sam wondered if it had really been there at all.