Roswell Fanatics

Disclaimer: Don't own it just appreciate it.

XO/SPN/UC/Teen

Summary: Sometimes the best parts of life are the ones we keep to ourselves.

Questions: Yeah they considered the FBI, they're trying to think of every possibility but there are just too many and since their most recent conflict was with the skins that seemed more probable.

As to what they did to Liz. Have you ever taken biology and dissected a frog and you spend your whole time poking around looking at all the organs and you always have that really annoying kid who cuts every organ to pieces. Think of that but on a live patient. They poked around.


Liz knew.

She saw it.

Saw exactly what was going to happen but couldn't see a way around it. She'd detailed every aspect of every vision she'd had in her journal but they always ended the same. She was taken, the only variable was who was taken with her. So she'd taken steps to ensure that it was only her.

Without informing anyone else.

Leaving her friends and family struggling to figure what the hell had happened. They were all flying blind, desperately attempting to put together enough to get her home. Dean's hand clenched tightly.

When he got her back, because he would get her back, they were going to have a long discussion about what information should be shared between husband and wife. He didn't need to known about the new couch she bought, he did need to know about visions of her abduction.

“Is it safe here?” Sam asked with a quick glance at Dean. They had closed the Tavern early and were all sitting around hastily put together tables, pouring over all the material they had. Including his wifes journal.

Again his hand clenched.

Liz's journal. There were personal details in that book that no one else needed to know. Little messages that she had left for his eyes only when she had put her plan into motion.

“Yeah,” Kyle pulled one of the papers to him. They'd ran all of the license plates that were visible on the security tape from the grocery store parking lot from the camera that had conveniently been knocked out right before Liz had been taken. “The names for the Tavern and the names we use for everything else are different. The credit card she was using had its address at a safe house about forty miles from here. I'd guess that that's been compromised.”

Max and Michael were on their way to check that out.

Dean shifted Jimmy on his lap. The little man was contently chewing away on his fathers thumb, oblivious to the situation around him.

Maria had offered to take 'J.J.' upstairs so that he could focus more on what little information they had. As much as he hated not being able to do anything he wasn't ready to let the baby out of his sight again just yet. And definitely not to leave his son with people that had waited a week to tell him that his wife had been taken by unknown parties.

They needed more. There was too much that they didn't know.

Sam leaned back in his chair, eyes closed tight, hand rubbing the side of his face, a sure sign that his brother was getting a migraine.

Jimmy finally dropped his thumb gracing Dean with a toothless grin. Despite that everyone else called him J.J., Liz had never called their son anything other than Jimmy. Though she had probably promoted the nickname J.J.

Her way of representing their fathers, John and Jeff, without actually naming the kid Jeffery John or John Jeffery. He'd been all for naming Jimmy something completely different but had left the final decision to her. Liz was after all the one who had carried the little man inside of her for forty weeks.

The surname had been the tricky part. Dean wanted Jimmy to have his name despite that by the time the little man was born the FBI had started to follow him. And Liz wanted her kid to carry her name too. The end result being Jimmy got both.

Thirty letter.

Dean hoped that the length didn't scar the boy for life.

The clock behind the bar flashed 12:03

Sam let out a grunt of pain just as Isabel woke with a scream from where she had been napping across a couple of chairs. Kyle sprinted to her side and Dean steadied his brother on his chair as best he could with only one free hand.

“Oh god,” Isabel's voice was laced with fear and panic. “She's hurting so much. She's so afraid. So alone. Oh god, what are they doing to her.”

Isabel had been trying to get through to Liz since they had realized that she had been taken but hadn't been able to. Until now. Dean resisted the urge to go over to her and force her to tell him everything that she saw.

Sam opened his eyes blearily. His pain evident. Jimmy whimpered and clung to Dean as best an infant could, strong emotions always got to him. “What is it Sam?”

“I know where she is.”

They were laying in bed, legs intertwined, skin on skin. Liz was drawing patterns on his chest, lazy nonsensical patterns that he knew he'd feel even when she was gone. They might as well have been branded into him, nothing would remove them.

Dean pulled her closer to him. Hand still resting on the slight swell of her stomach. There was a life growing in there. One that they made. Their child. A small smile lit his face. His kid. In her.

It was stupid. Dangerous. The worst thing they could have done but they couldn't not do it. They'd only been a couple of miles away from each other. Dean on a hunt. Liz just passing through. They couldn't not see each other.

So they had.

Liz had walked into the bar Dean had said he was going to be at and he'd picked her up. Pretending for Sam's benefit that she was one of the one night stands his brother thought that he was so fond of. She'd been wearing an overly large sweatshirt that he'd recognized right away.

His sweatshirt.

He'd never seen anything as sexy and had done nothing to hide the fact. If he recalled correctly his exact words to Sam had been 'fuckin hell'. His phone rang where it was sitting on the sidetable.

Dean ignored it.

“I wish we could stay like this,” but even as she said it she was moving off the bed. It had taken them four months to get a night together, he didn't want to think about how long it would be this time.

They dressed in silence, they didn't need to talk. This moment was about enjoying the presence of the other while it last. Dean sat on the end of the bed and pulled her to stand between his legs, running his hands anywhere and everywhere he could.

“If you need me,” he tightened his grip as his mind wandered to all the possible outcomes of letting Liz walk out that door without him, “or want me. No matter where you are, I'll come for you.”



Thursday good?

Disclaimer: Don't own it just appreciate it.

XO/SPN/UC/Teen - some language (not nearly as much as in Millstone)

Summary: Sometimes the best parts of life are the ones we keep to ourselves.

A/N: Italics aren't a flashback in this section. There aren't anymore of those.

Mrsjbehr made me a banner isn't it great. Lots and lots of cheers for mrsjbehr.

And many many thanks for all of the great reviews. :}

Liz had never hated anyone as much as she hated the men who were holding her in this hellhole. Not Tess. Not Nickolas. Not Pierce.

She knew that they didn't see her as human which made it easier for them to treat her the way they were but people didn't act like this to a fellow being without having a cruel soul. She was human. She was born. She had parents.

Even if they didn't know that. She looked human. Reacted as a human did. Bled like a human did. None of that mattered to them. To them she was just a freak that needed to be taken apart. And they were close to doing just that.

She was out living her usefulness. Her silence made them begin to think that they'd get more answers from an autopsy.

The familiar buzzing of the serum wearing off warmed her. She was building a tolerance to the chemical cocktail forcing the agents to give her more and more to get the same effect. It wouldn't last long. Not the way Liz was pushing her body.

Her hands clenched around the cold sharp steel of the scalpel as the sound of metal on metal alerted her to the incoming orderly and agent there to administer her next dose. At some point in the past, she couldn't measure time anymore, after she had noticed that the serum was leaving her system more rapidly she'd taken advantage of it.

Using her rapidly deteriorating physical condition to her benefit, they hadn't questioned why she had stumbled into the passing orderly carrying a tray of surgical equipment as they half pushed half carried her to her cell. And they hadn't searched her.

It was a stupid move. Because if there was one thing that Liz knew it was that she needed to get out of there before they decided that she was worth more dead than alive.

The agent escorting the orderly sneered down at her, oozing condescension and arrogance. He bent down to roll her to the side so that the orderly could plunge the syringe into her arm. She waited.

He leaned further down to complete their ritual of degrading remarks, as his mouth opened Liz pooled what little energy she had to bury the scalpel into his jugular. Perversely enjoying the way his blood spurted onto his shocked face before he fell.

Quick fingers slipped the dead mans gun from his holster pointing it at the orderly. The poor man was frantically trying to unlock the heavy door to the soundproof room.

At one point she would have been sympathetic.

Not now.

The sound of the shot barely ricocheted around the room. Leaning heavily on the wall Liz detached the key ring and opened the door. Not sure which way to go, she went the opposite way than they usually took her.

The halls were long and they all looked the same. Rusting. Chipping. Dichotomously surgically sterile. Breathing was getting harder. Her legs burned. The alarm started blaring around her. A faint fresh breeze telling her that her goal was near.

But it was too late. There was too little left to fuel her physical body. Luck and desire could only bring her so far.

She was unconscious before she hit the floor.

Liz was floating. Not in a drug induced state but in a way that was familiar and foreign at the same time. She needed to work fast, they would be coming for her soon. Trying to stop her from doing this.

She needed a conduit. So she reached out. Pushing her mind places her body couldn't take her. She had so little time.

Two fertile minds stood out in the fray. One with the warmth of familiarity. One an open receiver strong enough to take a heavy onslaught. It would be painful for all parties involved, Liz didn't have the energy or talent to spare them that. She gathered the images and sent them out.

Hoping they reached their targets and knowing they wouldn't cohesively.

White walls. Suits. Dirt roads. A decrepit fallout shelter sign of Haverman Airforce Base. Forscyth's face dripping hatred. The faded lettering on her door: Detention 4.

The images disintegrated as physical pain seeped in.

And then it was infinite black.

She was distantly aware of yelling or pounding or both. Her mind was filled with fog and nothing was clear, her senses too confused to comprehend. The bright lights of her white hell burned her eyes before she closed them tightly. The cold steel of a surgical table pressed into her back.

Warm hands were on her face.

Not harshly.

What happened? Where was she?

The fog was lifting slowly. She had tried to escape. Tried. Liz felt the panic surge. Tried and failed. She was still in Forscyth's custody. Pain laced through her body, bile rose in her throat. These men were capable of the unthinkable when she didn't provoke them, what where they doing now that she had given them an excuse?

Someone was talking to her, the words lost in the fray of her frenzied senses. Her eyes fought against her attempts to open them. They finally gave way as recognition itched her conscious mind.

“Liz,” the voice rolled over her, caressing in its intimacy, pleading with her to give them what they needed. “Liz.”

Green.

Not white. Green. A sob ripped from her throat. Her mind searched for answers. Searched the face in front of her. Was this real? Was she dreaming? She brought her hand to his face.

It wasn't strapped down.

Why wasn't it strapped down? Another sob.

The soft scruffiness of his persistent facial hair rubbed against her hand. He was really here. Her voice was hoarse from misuse, “Dean.”

Within seconds she was in her husbands arms, clinging as tightly as she could, ignoring the way her body was aching. Oh god, her husband. He was here. Dean was here. He'd come for her. Just like he always said he would.

He was here.

“I knew you'd come,” his grip tightened. A voice behind them told them that they had to leave. Leave. She was going to leave this place. Liz knew in the back of her mind that their rescue attempt might fail but it didn't matter. Dean was with her. He had her. He'd keep her safe. She was safe.



Only two more after this :[

See you tuesday.

Disclaimer: Don't own it just appreciate it.

XO/SPN/UC/Teen - some language (not nearly as much as in Millstone)

Summary: Sometimes the best parts of life are the ones we keep to ourselves.

Song is 'Laid' by James though the Matt Nathanson Cover is great.

Liz was laying on a the grass in the park down the block from Michael and Maria's when Sam stumbled upon her. Sunglasses covering her eyes and leg bobbing to the music filtering through her headphones. There was a book next to her but he doubted she had opened it, instead it looked like she was talking to herself.

As he got closer he realized that she was quietly singing along with what she was listening to.

“Moved out of the house, so you moved next door. I locked you out, you cut a hole in the wall. I found you sleeping next to me, I thought I was alone. You're driving me crazy, when are you coming home.”

He stopped at her feet waiting for some type of reaction but receiving none. Dean would be pissed if he had been the one to come across her. Hell, he'd be pissed when he realized that she had left the house without him 'cause if Sam had to guess he'd say Dean didn't know about this little excursion.

His brother was going to flip shit.

“I can handle your brother Sam,” she stated making him jump. How the hell did she do that?

“What are you doing out here?” Liz sat up and patted the grass next to her. He hesitated a second before sitting.

“Dean was driving me insane. I'd call him a mother hen if he'd put his gun away. I don't know who he's worse with Jimmy or me,” Saying that the oldest Winchester had been overbearing since they'd gotten Liz back would be an understatement. Sam understood where it came from but it was getting a tad ridiculous.

“Don't worry I won't tell him your hiding spot,” they shared a smile knowing what the reaction to their eventual return to the house would be. He shifted his weight and looked down, not sure how to breach the topic that he'd been itching to talk about.

“Just ask it,” she was really starting to unnerve him.

It was past his lips before he could stop it, “How'd you know what I was thinking? What can you do? You know... ability wise. Dean said you see things like I do. Could you do them before Max or is it completely because of Max? Is that all you ca-”

“Woah, one at a time,” great now his sister-in-law was laughing at him. “First off, I'm a woman it works well for me to know what the men in my life are thinking especially when they are so damn easy to read. You're a Winchester, everything you think is reflected on your face. Just wait till you start thinking some naughty thoughts that's when the real fun starts,” he couldn't stop the blood that rushed to his cheeks. She smirked knowingly but left the topic alone.

“The things you can do?” Liz absentmindedly rubbed her wrists. They had been chaffed and bleeding from her time spent strapped down until Max had had a chance to heal her. When Dean had reluctantly passed her to Sam so that he could take point with Michael the blood had soaked into his shirt from where her arms were weakly entwined around his neck.

“Max changed me when he healed me. The things I can do are directly correlated to him, I wasn't born with them. Which is probably why I can't really do much. I get flashes, usually of the future and I can project most of the time and if I'm really emotional I can blast or melt things but not much else besides a little of what Isabel and the rest can. Well, that's not true. I can sense things about people. See what type of person they are. It's why I originally went to Dean. I already knew he was one of the good ones.”

“And J.J.? What can he do?” Sam watched as she played with a blade of grass, knotting it repeatedly. She wasn't the girl in the pictures that had lined the walls of her apartment or the woman desperately trying to make it through life unscathed. Now she was just a mother. A mother who would do anything keep her son from losing his innocence the way that she had.

“Jimmy,” a maternal smile. He could see why his brother had picked this woman, “Jimmy's special. He's going to be someone to watch as he gets older. You've noticed it already. The way he reacts to people, connects with them. He doesn't just sense what's in them, he feels it too. Like an empath. With the genetics he got from Dean and I, he can't be anything but special.”

“Dean?”

“I'm a scientist Sam, curiosity is a part of who I am. I look for answers. Dean might not have your gifts but he has the latent potential, that's a certainty. I haven't figured out what triggered your abilities and not his but I will.”

“Why?” Liz looked taken aback by the question.

“Because it's who I am,” she looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “He really hasn't told you anything has he?” he shook his head. Liz stood and held out her hand for him. “Come with me Sam. You want answers and I'm going to give them to you since Dean obviously won't. I swear to god that man's a mule. How did you live with him growing up?”

“Our dad was worse,” another smile, this one almost melancholy.

“I know. That man could drive a monk to violence,” they walked down a winding dirt path leading them deeper into the center of the park. To the small lake at the center and a small gazebo isolated from the clearing full of people. All the while Liz telling him about growing up in Roswell and the different places she had been to.

“Why didn't he tell me?” the question was abrupt but not unexpected.

“We all keep secrets. You never told Jess about what your family did because you wanted nothing more to do with it,” Sam gave her a sharp look as she made herself comfortable on the bench wondering at, not for the first time, how much his brother had told this slip of a woman. “Dean never told you about us because for us knowing each other puts us in danger. It might not have been right but since when does that matter? Don't hold it against your brother for doing what we felt we had to, you've done the same.”

“But this isn't a live-in girlfriend with thoughts of engagement. I thought he was sleeping with anyone with breasts and it turns out he's married. I have a nephew that I never had an inkling existed and a sister-in-law that use to be married to an alien,” his temper was rising, though his voice remained steady. Liz eyebrows raised in a gesture reminiscent of Dean.

“Don't blame Dean for that Sam. I can be very... obstinate when I want to be and I'm the one who sets the rules, don't ever let him tell you different” Dean did have a thing for headstrong women. “I didn't care about what he was hunting, still don't. Most of the time he knows what he's doing. I was just so desperate to protect him.

“I didn't want him or you or your dad to get hurt by the things I started when I was a teenager and keeping secrets seemed to be the best way to do that. I should have known better, look how it turned out. It's my fault your dad's dead. If you had known who to call, John never would've needed to make the deal he did.”

“Dad did what he thought he had to. There's nothing anyone could have said to change his mind,” He could tell that she didn't believe him. It was the same way with Dean, the guilt went too deep. “Did dad know about you guys?”

“He knew that it was more serious than a fling for Dean but he didn't know how much he'd missed when he didn't pick up his phone. And Dean... Dean is a stubborn ass who wouldn't tell his dad after the first attempt failed,” a couple walked by hand in hand, a young girl talking to them excitedly, pigtails bobbing with every gesture. A picturesque portrayal of the ideal American family.

“I can't get my head around the fact that he's married with a kid.”

“I don't think he can either. We haven't had the most traditional of relationships,” a very unladylike snort before she sobered.“Sam you have to understand that he wanted to tell you more than anything. There were a couple of times when he was just so sloppy about it that I could tell that he was waiting for you to confront him so that he didn't have to keep it from you anymore.”

“I did,” Liz cocked her head puzzled, “confront him. I found the picture of J.J. in his wallet and asked him about it. He did everything but answer.”

The setting sun was sending waves of color over the lake settling the park into an air of peaceful tranquility. One of those scenes of life that too few took time to appreciate. They both let it wash over them aware that they were more guilty of that than most.

Liz's voice permeated the space between them begging him to understand,“Your brother is willing to do anything to protect his family and right now Jimmy is the center of that. Asking about him about the wee-one is asking for trouble, to be honest I expected that. He hounded me during my pregnancy making sure I was taking my vitamins and eating well and not getting into stupid situations.

“I kept thinking I'm not going to be able to stop him from coming when I give birth not when he was already wrapped around the kids finger without ever even feeling him kick... then Jimmy was born right before your dad died and Dean didn't handle well, you saw where I couldn't Sam. He was suddenly ten times more paranoid, a thousand times more cautious, and twenty times more uncontrolled. He scared me. I kept thinking that one day his messages would stop.”

“He scared me sometimes too,” Scared wasn't the right word. Sam had been petrified that Dean was going to go right over the edge.

Liz stood signaling that it was time to go, “I trust Dean more than anyone I have ever or will ever know. I love him and I like to think that he loves me too,” she briefly smiled brightly acknowledging how ridiculous she sounded. Even Sam recognized that the doubt between the two of them had faded a long time ago, “but you're his brother, what we are doesn't touch that. He needs you. Please don't hold all this against him.”

“I won't.”

The walk to the house was brief. Dusk had settled and the streetlights had turned on. The houses they passed stirred with life. Families were sitting together for diner, sharing their days. And here Sam was walking home with his brothers wife.

It gave him hope.

The screen door was flung open before they had even stepped on the porch. Dean's voice thundered across the otherwise silent street, “Where the hell have you been?”

Sam and Liz shared a smile.

So damn predictable.

Disclaimer: Don't own it just appreciate it.

XO/SPN/UC/Teen

Summary: Sometimes the best parts of life are the ones we keep to ourselves.

A/N: I haven't actually considered a prequel/sequel for this. I only write as far as my imagination takes me and this is it. I'll consider it but I'd probably need help cause I have no idea where to start and there are time constraints with work and going back to school.

Thank you all for such great reviews. I hope you enjoyed the story.

He barely managed to catch Liz's flailing arm before it collided with his face having been woken by a knee to his thigh only moments previous. The nightmares that plagued her nightly always caused her to lash out this way. He'd stopped counting how many nights he'd woken up bruised.

Dean pulled her close wrapping his arms strongly around her, half in protection half in comfort. Some nights Liz didn't need to be woken, just being held securely was enough to allow her to drift back into a peaceful slumber.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

“Hey,” he gently nudged her into awareness, “it's alright. You're ok. You're safe.”

She stared back blankly for a moment before understanding filtered in. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as violent sobs racked her body.

The nightmares had been getting better, Liz hadn't woken up like this in days. Not for exactly four and a half days when she had passed out on the coach and had scared the crap out of all the occupants on their floor of the hotel they were staying at by releasing a blood curdling scream.

That had taken a while to explain to the staff.

Her fingers were digging painfully into his back, he was sure that there would be little half-crescent indents in his back from the action. Dean wasn't surprised to find that he didn't care in the least.

Outside of Liz's sobs there was no other noise in the room. After the first night that her actions had woken Jimmy and Sam had walked in to see him trying to calm them both down, the baby had slept in his brothers room.

It had allowed them to settle into a routine.

One in which their days were as hectic as their nights. With time spent between selling old safe houses and buying new ones and hunting whatever supernatural creature they happened upon it was a feat that none of them had burnt out.

Liz's sobs tapered off but they remained laying as they were. Dean knew what the dreams were about, they didn't need to talk about them. All talking ever accomplished was upsetting her and making him wish that he hadn't let Michael, Max, and Isabel 'handle' the situation at the base.

He'd take a part the FBI person by person if she would let him.

---------

The house was a small four bedroom cottage with a long driveway in upstate New York so close to the lake that their bedroom overhang it allowing the water to lap at the support poles all night. It was soothing and didn't at all make him have to pee.

Getting the house had been about as spontaneous as purchasing something so big could be. They had stumbled upon it while passing through the mountain community after taking care of a malevolent spirit in its general area.

Liz had all but given him a heartattack at the 'for sale by owner' sign in the yard.

That had been two months ago.

It had, and still did, need a lot of work but his wife being who she was was absolutely set on making the place feel like home. And while Dean wouldn't admit it outloud just yet she was doing a pretty good freakin' job at it.

Hot humid air was making his shirt stick to his back and his jeans uncomfortable. For one of the few times in his life he actually considered donning a pair of shorts, one of the several pairs that Liz had bought in an effort to tempt him.

Between her and Sam, he had spent hours listening to their snickering as they explained in detail the joys of wearing less material. When they had been at the Tavern early in their relationship Kyle use to join in the fun while Michael on one of his occasional visits had actually defended Dean's choice.

In a manner of speaking.

The gruff 'let him wear what he wants to' was about as knightly as Guerin got.

He had hoped that with Liz had signing over full ownership of the tavern to Kyle and the move to the colder climate would have curbed the abuse. Apparently not. The last thing he did before he left for their first hunt without Liz and Jimmy would not be to concede the shorts point.

Jimmy.

Sam was kneeling in the grass holding him up by his waist helping the boy take the first steps towards assisted walking. His brother had been convinced that he would be the one to get Jimmy to take his first steps.

At just over six months Jimmy had a little while to go before he started walking. A fact that his mother was eternally grateful for.

Six months.

Jimmy was eleven days away from being seven months and Dean hadn't released his breath that nothing had happened at six months like it had with Sam. With Jimmy's talents they couldn't have been more careful, taking shifts so that there were always two of them awake and with him at all times. Each with an impressive arsenal at their disposal.

Nothing but the best for his son.

Liz finally made her way out of the garage carrying a long leather case. He was fairly certain that it held a machete, one of her three dollar flea market buys. They had enough knives but Dean knew with a certainty that she would not let them leave until it was safely in the trunk.

He was right.

Sam handed Jimmy to his mother and slipped into the car leaving the two of them alone. Alone to say goodbye. The safety measures they had taken on the house would make his father proud but that offered little comfort to him.

“How are you ok with this?” he hadn't meant to ask that.

“Because I know you're coming back."

--------

The bonfire was roaring, the heat of the blaze holding back the chilling fall air in a ten foot radius around the stone circle. Small yard lights were providing a low glow in the twilight to let everyone make it from the barbecue to the fire without breaking a ankle.

It was a small gathering, Liz having only invited their neighbor Serena and her family. Dean and Sam had arrived back from a hunt in North Dakota only the night before and she was happy to be able to show at least one member of the small community that her husband was not, as they whispered, a part of her overactive imagination but did actually exist.

Even if it was the one family that cared the less.

Now that she thought about it: where was her husband?

Liz found him in time to see Serena's daughter Lucia kick him in the shin and turn to run away, a wide smile firmly in place as Dean managed to pick her up by the back of her overalls before she escaped. The girl let out an ecstatic squeal as she waved her limbs in the air.

A similar exclamation had her turning back towards the house where Sam was making his way to her, Jimmy balanced precariously over his head in what was obviously a game of airplane. A very bad game of airplane.

What was with these Winchesters?

Apparently the 'Think Before You Act: The Closest Hospital is 45 Minutes Away' sign wasn't enough.

Serena spoke from behind her making her jump, “Men. Can't live with them. Can't shoot them.”

Liz shrugged and smiled at the truth in the statement. It had taken surprisingly little time for her to have to yell at them. She briefly prayed to any deity that existed that Jimmy would be spared the genes that seemed to be so prevalent in his uncle and father.

“Samuel Winchester if you drop my son I'll blast you into next year.”

The End.