Roswell Fanatics

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: Post-Graduation for Roswell. Post-Everyone Loves a Clown for Supernatural. For plausibilities sake Dean wasn't with Cassie, he's just a big flirt. Updates will be shorter than the last cause I had problems splitting them up and probably only one a week if it can't be helped. Hope you enjoy.

Thank you mrsjbehr for the wonderful banner.

“Been Dazed and Confused for so long it's not true. Wanted a woman, never bargained for you. Lots of people talk and few of them know, soul of a woman was created below.” - Dazed and Confused, Led Zeppelin

Dean let the crowbar drop from his loose fingers, his breathing heavy. He barely noticed the damage he had inflicted to the already wounded car. It didn't matter. His father was dead, the car didn't matter.

None of it mattered. Nothing outside Sam mattered.

He dropped to the ground and leaned back on the car. The Impala. His fathers car. It seemed like just yesterday he was getting chewed out for rust in the fender and now the car was totaled, his dad dead.

Dead in his place because Dean knew that healthy men rarely just keeled over and patients at deaths door woke up healthy.

This was the second time he had cheated death and both times the price was too high.

It would have been better if he had died the first time.

He felt rather than saw the person standing over him. There was no shadow and for a minute he considered attributing it to paranoia but his training went too deep. His fingers curled around the crowbar before he look towards the presence. The sun blocked their face briefly before they dropped to their knees.

Familiar wide brown eyes. Familiar everything, down to the freckle on her collar bone. Dean felt himself tempted to smile but didn't, there was something wrong. Not just with him. The left side of her face was red and swollen, her lip split. She was covered in dirt, her cheeks tear stained.

“Liz,” he wasn't sure if it was his imagination. She made to touch him but didn't. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm sorry,” her voice was distant as if she wasn't kneeling right next to him but miles away. “I'm so sorry.”

“What?” he couldn't read what she meant from her face when usually she was an open book, at least to him it was one of the things that bound them together. Trust. He heard Sam calling him and turned away. It was only a second but she was gone.

Maybe he was more upset than he was admitting.

He stood up and looked to his brother. Sam was tempted to ask after his well being once again, Dean could see it in his face. If he did, he was going to get hit.

The Tavern wasn't a hunter bar like he had heard the Roadhouse was but hunters were known to stop there when passing through. The owners' active policy of 'don't ask don't tell' had its appeal. They had firmly established that they had their secrets and would leave others to their own.

Some speculated that the owner or owners were hunters since they disappeared frequently and came back at odd times but this was a minority opinion.

All this Dean learned with in the first ten minutes of sitting down from an overeager amateur that he had to change tables to avoid. He didn't care if any of that was true, he just knew that they made good burgers and had his favorite beer on tap. There was even decent music being played, even if he didn't recognize half of it. After a hunt like he just had that's all he wanted.

Pushing the plate away when he was finished, he leaned back in his chair and glanced around the place. It was on the darker side, plenty of corners for privacy. Everything in the bar was worn through years of use but as clean as it could get.

It was easy to pick out the hunters in the bar, easier to pick out the locals. Only one person stuck out as neither. Stuck out in the way that Sammy stuck out in places like this, it was the innocence in their face. Admittedly that wasn't something that could be easily remedied but the noticeably clean clothes didn't help.

At first he looked because it was hard not too, observing her in the careful way he used when on a hunt. Bowl of ice cream, a wide giddy smile, the spoon being used to gesture enthusiastically at the bartender. It was all painfully normal.

And completely out of place.

Then he looked because she had started to glance over at him. Small fleeting looks that he would have missed if he hadn't been staring at her. Dean wasn't sure if he was going to act on it though, she didn't seem too much like his type of woman.

He watched when she threw out a rowdy customer reveling that she was the owner of the place. How did an innocent girl like her come to own a place that was frequented by hunters, some of the most uninhibited men the world had to offer?

Dean was taken off guard when she sat down next to him after having forced the man out and extended her hand to him, “Hi, I'm Claudia Evans.”

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: Was going to post this tomorrow and start a pattern of posts every Thursday but I have to write a paper tomorrow so that wouldn't be a good idea. Only two more days and I'll only have fourteen more credits till I'm a college graduate. Yay.

Thank you for the reviews and yes, I can't remember the episode but it was suppose to be a projection like that one but stronger. Figured that Liz's powers would have developed more if the show had kept going.

Dean and Sam walked to the door, Jo's folder of research in hand. It was true, they had gone nosing around for less and it was well put together especially for someone new to the game. A case was a case and the sooner they got away from an angry Ellen the better.

That woman was scary.

Sam had just stepped over the threshold when Dean stopped. There was a question he needed to ask, one that had been gnawing at him. He was probably way off base but it was something that he needed to have proved wrong. It had been at the back of his mind since Ellen had mentioned it to him over the phone the last time they had spoken.

“Hey Ellen,” the woman momentarily stopped glaring at her daughter to glance at him. “The woman who was in here asking about me, what'd she look like?”

Sam was leaning on the door frame and rolling his eyes. Dean could practically hear his thoughts. It wasn't enough that he picked up any thing with breasts when they were working, now he had them seeking him out.

“Petite thing, just over five foot. Dark hair and eyes,” worry filled his chest, if he was honest he'd admit that there was some panic there too, “She had a baby with her.”

A fond smile slipped into face before he could stop it, “Yeah?”

“Real young, cute kid,” the smile turned almost proud, confusion was evident on Sams' face. He nodded in a way that said he already knew what Ellen had told him but appreciated being told.

“She say anything?”

“Just that she wasn't going to leave a message.”

“Thanks,” Dean replied for a nod, pushing past Sam and making his way towards the Impala. He didn't stop or look back as he got in the car. Making no indication that that conversation had take place.

They were laying in bed mostly undressed. Liz squirming and giggling as Dean made his way from her chest to her abdomen, kissing and tickling her along the way. He couldn't help the smile that was spread across his face. There was something about this woman. It was in the way she latched on to life and didn't let go. Dean couldn't help but be swept up in it.

There were secrets, there were so many things that they didn't know about each other. He didn't even know why if her name was Claudia why everyone called her Liz. Things like that didn't seem all that important. Maybe that was a part of the novelty. When it was the two of them they could be whoever they wanted.

He paused lips hovering over her bellybutton. “Why'd you introduce yourself that night?”

It was a question he had thought about since then. She scrunched up her face pretending to think about it. “Your wallet,” Liz stated very matter-of-factly, her tone undermined by her amused smile. “I wanted your wallet. Thought I could lift it off of you real easy, make some fast money.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep but you were a harder mark than I gave you credit for,” she squealed as his fingers dug into her sides. Half relieved that she hadn't answered seriously. Half wishing that she had.

About ten minutes into the drive with Dean nodding his head to the music, Sam let the curiosity get the better of him. First he cleared his throat. Which was ignored repeatedly. Then he turned down the music, which was promptly turned back up. He was starting to get the feeling that his brother didn't want to talk about it.

“So, we gonna talk about it,” he finally settled on asking.

“Talk about what,” the hard way it was.

“The woman,” a blank look, “with the baby?”

“Sorry dude, can't help you.”

Sam rolled his eyes and stared out the window. He wanted to push. He wanted answers. But Dean was being difficult and more than stubborn. There would be no answers, not at the moment. Not by direct means. He'd leave it be for now.

They had a hunt to do. He focused on that and let the rest be pushed to the back.


ok, that was really short but as compensation I promise that as soon as classes end Friday I'll finish writing it so that I can post more often than once a week.

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: Damn, I should be finishing my paper but since when do I do what I'm suppose to? This can be counted as work right? Besides it gets kinda depressing writing about the 2.8 million people that died of AIDS in 2005.

Moving on... Questions:

Liz didn't leave a message because it was such a risk for her to even check to see if they had heard about him in the first place that she didn't want to do anymore damage (hopefully the risk will be explained later)

After she left the Roadhouse she headed home (the Tavern). This all happened before the projection, though Dean doesn't put it together till later. Clarification to come in later chapters.

The other two are also in the later chapters. Hope that helped.

Thanks for the reviews, they made me want to put this part up. See you all next week.


The Tavern was mostly empty, only a scattering of locals littering some of its' corners. Not surprising since most of the normal crowd was still at work. Nodding to those he recognized, Dean made his way through the back doors.

The kitchen was small, separated from the main space by a narrow hallway and the stairs that took you to the second floor apartment. Liz's apartment. She wasn't up there, this time of day she never was. The music drifting toward him said that today was no different.

An amused smile crossed his face as he watched her bounce around, bowl in hand, completely oblivious to the world surrounding her. It was amazing how quickly he was being drawn in by this little slip of a woman. He had only meant for it to be for a night.

But a night had turned into a day. A day into a week and a week into whenever he wasn't with his father or on a case by himself.

A wide smile lit her face when she realized who was in the room with her, “Hey.”

“What are you making?” He asked, placing a quick kiss on her forehead.

“Just some mashed potatoes,” she scooped some out and brought them to him lips before turning back to her task. Warm and creamy. A bit of Cheese and knowing Liz some garlic too. The woman could cook.

“I love smashed potatoes,” he moved to stand behind her where she was washing the used pot. Letting his hands rest on her hips. She turned to face him, eyebrow lifted in challenge.

“Those,” she went up on her toes bringing their lips closer together but not yet touching. Damn tease, “ are mashed not smashed.”

“Humm,” Dean kissed along her jaw, neglecting her mouth in the way he knew would annoy her.” “I always-”

Predictably Liz brought his fun to an end. Well, not really an end just changed it. There was nothing hesitant or questionable in the kiss. There never had been. It was all raw emotion. Passion. Lust. Happiness. Expectation.

Dean could write her day by her kisses.

“Oh, get a room,” Kyle's voice ripped them apart. Not quite as effective as cold water but good enough. The ex-boyfriend, best friend, almost brother could definitely put a damper on the mood.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as his brother fingered his ring again. It was a habit that he had just noticed Dean had. He played the circle of silver almost without realizing it. Repeatedly spinning it with his thumb. Sam didn't even know where the thing had come from.

The ring was on his right hand not his left, so the chances that it was a wedding band were slim and despite that they hadn't talked for years Sam didn't believe that Dean would get married without telling him. And he couldn't see his brother staying away from his kid.

But he wouldn't talk about it.

Not where the ring came from. Not about the woman or the infant. And definitely not why he would start dialing his phone but stop before he finished. It was irritating. Especially since Dean was spending more and more nights pacing.

So Sam was taking things into his own hands.

Head buried in his pillow giving the impression that he was asleep, he waited until his brother finally settled into bed. Then waited again until even breathing told him Dean was unconscious before silently making his way to his brothers possession.

If he woke up, Sam was sure he'd be lucky only to get a black eye.

There was nothing suspicious in Dean's bag. Only clothing and some weapons. Toothbrush. Deodorant. Everything that someone who travels a lot needs.

The same was the case for his phone. A lot of numbers that he didn't recognize but none that jumped out at him. There wasn't even one with a special ringtone. Sam wasn't sure what he expected to find. Dean wasn't the type of person to have a 'sweetheart' tagged with hearts programed in his phone. Call log was equally uninformative.

Maybe there was nothing to find, it could just be paranoia and he was tired. Maybe he should just leave it alone and trust his brother to talk to him when he was ready.

His feet tangled in Dean's abandoned jeans and Sam was lucky to catch himself before he landed painfully and loudly on the floor. A moments hesitation found him searching the pockets. Nothing but a wallet and car keys.

Id. Credit Cards. Cash...

A picture.

Of an infant laying on a gray blanket. Round cheeks. Dark tuff of hair messily sitting on its head. The sleeves of its green jumper too long and covering its hands. Eyes wide. Small smile lighting up its face, as only a truly innocent smile could.

He flipped it over and was met with Dean's messy scrawl. 'J.J.'s First Smile – 3 Weeks Old'

The picture was printed on photo paper so wherever it had originated from his brother had made sure he had a proper copy of it. Not one on a normal sheet of paper, easily destroyable. It was worn too, obviously having been taken from the wallet numerous times. Smugged around the face from fingers tracing it.

There was a worn picture of an infant in his brothers wallet. Confused Sam put the wallet back and slipped into bed. A baby. He could only think of one reason why it would be there, only one that made sense. There was a baby Winchester in the world. One he had had no idea even existed.

What else was Dean keeping from him?

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've pretty much finished writing this so updates will be quick. Thanks for the reviews :}

A cool breeze caressing his bare legs woke Dean up from an otherwise restful sleep. The blankets were drawn back and Liz's side of the bed was cold. He leaned up, where'd she go. A faint glow from the bathroom light.

The plush carpet muffled his footsteps as he silently made his way to the bathroom door. It was cracked open enough for him to see in. Liz was standing with her back to him, phone to her ear. Voice barely loud enough to reach his ear.

What ever she was talking about was upsetting her. He moved to comfort her but paused as her palm slammed heavily into the glass mirror. Blood dripped from it, shards of glass splintered around her. He could make out her face, fractured and in pain.

She composed herself and his hands gripped tightly on the door frame as he watched the impossible happen. The mirror mended itself, the blood disappeared. A faint glow and he knew her hand was healed.

“Take care of it,” there was no kindness in her face. No warmth in her voice. No trace of the woman he knew. Possession? No, he didn't know any demon that could do what she just did.

The phone dropped heavily to the floor, slapping against the tile loudly. He pulled his eyes back up and was met with the reflection of fierce brown eyes, staring right through him.

His hands were wrapped around the steering wheel tightly, turning his knuckles white. They were on their way to another job. Their second in a short span of time. Each hunt bringing them close to the Tavern. It was a not so subconscious desire to bring him close to Liz.

Because Dean was worried. Worried to the point where he had been careless enough to use Sam's new laptop despite his brother watching everything he was doing too closely for comfort, to check the email account she had set up for him rather than wait for the use of another computer to see if there was any new messages. There weren't.

No messages. No calls.

It wasn't like her.

Liz if nothing else always made sure that they talked to each other at least twice a week. But there had been no word from her in days. He wanted to talk to her, hear her voice, have her tell him everything that had happened since the last time they had spoke.

But there was no way to get in touch with her immediately.

With all the shit that had been happening recently there was no one number that she could be reached at. Her time at the Tavern was becoming less and less, and she didn't carry a cell phone. Claimed that they weren't necessary and too easy to track.

His grip tightened, if that was even possible. He wanted to see Liz.

Quickly and efficiently he dressed making his way to the living room to collect his belonging and ignoring the way his heart was pounding against his ribcage. Not Liz, why did it have to be Liz. He needed to call his father. They needed to figure out what was going down.

Of all the places to stumble upon the supernatural why did it have to be here.

He made it down into the Tavern and outside quietly, moving with the stealth he was trained into. Mind racing with the possibilities of what she was, thinking of ways that he could help her, refusing to think of having to kill her. There had to be a way around that.

The bag in his hand dropped to the floor sending up a cloud of dirt barely visible even with the streetlights. Liz leaning against the driver side door of the Impala, arms wrapped around her chest to protect herself from the cold, eyes calmly taking him in, face passive.

Dean immediately reached for the gun usually tucked into the back of pants, forgetting that he hadn't replaced it when he had dressed, so sure that she hadn't actually seen him. So quick to leave.

“Did you ever think to just ask me?” there was more emotion in her voice than elsewhere.

“Yeah, that always works,” people with secrets didn't just decide to be truthful, especially those tied up in what he worked with. Unless they were just going to kill you.

“Dammit Dean. It doesn't have to be this way.”

“What way is that?” the telltale signs of irritation mounted. Eye twitching. Hands clenching. It was stupid to push her buttons. He had no idea what she could do, no idea if she would do it to him. Something said she wouldn't.

“Fine. You want to play it that way,” she brought her hand up and the windows imploded. Liz looked at him in contempt, her whole body subtly shaking. Unconsciously he took a step back. What the hell? “Go on, say it. What am I Dean?”

“Witch,” half question, not loud enough to hear but she knew what he had said anyway. Her responding laugh was tired and dry, her voice thick. He felt a pang of guilt for it.

“No, not even close,” she slid down, back against the Impala, head buried in her hands. “I was going to tell you everything. I wanted to tell you everything.”

Going against his self preservation instincts, he crouched down next to her placing his hand on his shoulder. If his father was here Dean would be in deep shit, “Tell me now.”

Liz was in his arms before he registered he was on his ass. Hot tears dripped down his neck, she was crying. He barely heard her whisper into her shoulder, “Sorry about your windows.”

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: Baby question in next chapter or the one after that. All things in good time :}

Thank You for the Amazing Reviews

Miles whipped by the window in a blur, static filled rock music filtered through the Impala's speakers. Neither of the occupants were inclined to search for a tape to put in. Too tired and too apathetic to really care what was on the radio.

Sam was trying to get some sleep, sprawled out as much as he could in passenger seat of the car. It was one of those times that he cursed his height, just a couple of inches shorter and he would be much more comfortable. Dean's height maybe, yeah Dean's height would be good.

He'd say as much but his brother wasn't currently talking to him. Too annoyed at the intrusion of unwanted and unappreciated questions to give a crap about Sam's observation. Too pissed off at being continuously watched to take the opportunity to poke fun.

The topic of the baby picture had predictably earned Sam a black eye and a five mile walk back to the motel. He was lucky he hadn't been left behind all together.

A shrill rendition of an unrecognizable song emanating from the cellphone tucked away in his brothers jacket brought him away from any continued attempt to nap. Dean pulled the phone out and flipped it open, not bothering to check the caller id.

“Yeah,” whatever the reply to the gruff greeting was it had his brother tensing and signaling to the shoulder of the road. They were pulled over and Dean was out of the car before Sam could question him about who he was speaking to. “Just fucking tell me Michael.”

Dean's muffled voice drifted through window, the words barely recognizable. Sam rolled it down a crack, eyes focused on his brothers form leaning heavily on the Impala as if it were the only thing holding him up.

“We're on our way,” the phone snap shut and Dean got into the car. The tires squealed as they pulled out, quickly picking up speed.

“Where're we going?” the muscle in his brothers jaw twitched.

“There's something we need to do.”

“And where would that be?” Dean finally looked at him meeting his eyes briefly before turning back to the road. Enough so that Sam knew that whatever it was it was serious.

“You wanted answers Sammy. We're going to get them.”

Liz wasn't nervous. Wasn't questioning if she was making the right decision. There were no butterfly's in her stomach or restless movements of hands as they smoothed down invisible wrinkles in her dress.

She wasn't wearing a dress but that wasn't here or there.

She wasn't nervous because there was no need to. This was it. This was right. Her eyes flickered over to where Dean was standing with Kyle, expression perplexed. It wasn't a complicated ceremony but it was an obscure one. An old Navajo joining ceremony her grandmother had once written about.

The binding of two souls. Not two lives but two life forces.

When she had married Max, Maria and Isabel had stood with her at the back of the church offering their support as she not so calmly waited for the priest to be ready. Before walking down the aisle Maria had pulled her aside asking if she was sure that it was what she wanted to do.

Eighteen year old Liz had hesitated.

Not this time. There was no hesitation.

This was right. She could feel it in every part of her.

With Max it had been too much too soon. Two children playing an adults game under impossible circumstances. They just didn't work. With Dean it was two adults committing to a decision that they had both thought through and accepted.

A mutual concession of self. Not that Dean would put it that way, he wasn't as poetic about it as she was. To him, he was making her family. His family. Not in the eyes of the law but that didn't matter. Just another way he could defy authority.

The ceremony would be short. Only ten minutes, a symbolic gesture. Liz's name was still being flagged by the FBI and neither saw any reason why the government should be involved in such a personal act. So it was only for them.

Maybe their family and friends.

But they were alone in this.

If Liz had a regret it was that John and Sam weren't here. Dean hadn't said much about their absence, it wasn't necessary for him too. Even the obtuse could appreciate that it hurt to not have them present.

They had their reasons and he was doing what he perceived they wanted. He was keeping the distance that Sam wanted and John... John hadn't returned the brief uninformative message. He was too involved in the hunt to answer such a summons.

Dean was too stubborn to call again especially since his father would most likely protest the decision.

“You sure you don't want something more conventional?” Kyle's words startled her out of her thoughts.

“No, this is perfect,” she laced her fingers through Dean's who was shaking his head, “besides, I was changed by an alien and he hunts ghosts. I think we're about as unconventional as it gets.”

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: You guys are awesome. Props to you all for being so great :} Definitely brought sunshine to my otherwise crap week.

The building was dingy with the type of dirt that even a powerwasher wouldn't get out. A century's worth of grime and dust. The wooden sign above the door was peeling, only the word Tavern clearly visible, though if he squinted he could see the outline of the word Washington.

The Washington Tavern.

He followed Dean into the building unsure whether this was a pitstop or the final destination. His brother had been unresponsive the entire trip. No, not unresponsive, hostile. There were several times during the ride where he was sure that Dean was going to toss him out of the car.

While it was moving.

The place was empty except for two areas. An old man bent over his half empty beer in the front corner, the dark lighting of the place obscuring his features. And a group of people around the bar, huddled close speaking in low voices with the bartender.

What little conversation continued after the door slammed behind the brothers was lost in the space. Three of the pack turned when Dean headed for them, a petite blond woman almost immediately launching herself at the smaller Winchester with a sob.

What the hell?

Dean was trying to ignore the stomach was jumping with dread. There was no reason for it to be but logic rarely ever complied with bodily reactions. His father was missing. AWOL. Hadn't been spoken to or seen in weeks. He'd gone out on a hunt and left his eldest with only a EMF laced voicemail to show for it.

So Dean was leaving. Leaving Liz and what semblance of normality he had achieved. Leaving what had become a haven. If there was one thing he had come to learn was that he couldn't begrudge Sam for looking for a life like this.

Not much anyway. Cause when it came down to it Dean was looking to keep both and Sam was looking to abandon the part that made their family theirs.

He wouldn't be ignoring it for much longer cause Dean was going to to drag him back in for at least one more go at the Family Business. They were gonna go hunting for their father.

Slight arms wrapped around his middle, face pressed into his back. Liz understood what he had to do, wasn't happy about the openendedness of the trip but got it.

She'd do the same. Had done the same to protect her chosen family. He'd be coming back that much he was sure of, if he didn't she'd hunt his ass down anyway. You didn't find a place like this and let it go.

He pulled her around him so that her head rested on his chest. It was one of those times that life seemed to rush at you too fast. They wouldn't be seeing each other for a while. Would barely be acknowledging each other. Too much was happening at once.

Skin cells poking around close to her hometown. FBI sneaking around. John going missing.

Too Much.

Liz got up on her tippytoes and pulled his head down. The height difference was an obstacle she enjoyed overcoming in most circumstances. At times it was hard to follow how she came up with some of the things she did. Not that he was complaining.

Her lips glided slowly over his. Soft. Intent. He pulled her closer not willing to let her go just yet. Moments later she reluctantly drew away, hugging him tightly, her breath ticking his cheek.

“This is home,” Liz's voice was thick. Dean bit down a flippant response, “don't you ever forget that.”

Dean had Max on his ass clutching his jaw before the smaller man had a chance to get fully off his stool. He'd never liked the dark haired man. Something just didn't sit right about him. About his behavior. Dean didn't understand how someone who was responsible for the lives of others was so clueless, so naive.

Max tried to get up but Dean grabbed his collar and slammed him back on the bar. He was distantly aware of several people calling his name.

“You promised,” Max made no effort to fight back as he was flung to the floor. “You gave your word that she'd be safe when you pulled her back into this crap.”

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from nailing him again, though the itch was still there. Michael was standing behind him at the ready, Dean had gotten in his shot. That was all he was allowed.

Taking a deep breath he stepped back. Nothing would get done if he kept this up. Hands still shaking with suppressed anger he allowed himself to be seated at the bar next to Sam, who was doing a very good job of keeping his trap shut for once in his life.

“What the hell happened?” they all looked at each other, none of them making to answer. The urge to hit someone was growing. The old man in the front tossed some bills on the table and left.

Finally Kyle broke the silence, “We don't know. She's just gone.”

“Liz wouldn't leave.”

“No, that's not-” deep breath, “Someone took her but we don't know who. Or why.”

“What do you know?” Maria laid a restraining hand on his arm.

“She asked me to sit with J.J. while she went grocery shopping and didn't come back,” tears where building in her eyes again. Isabel hugged the smaller woman close, her icy visage cracking.

“Skins?”

The room dropped into silence. Sam's eyebrow was raised, interest lined his face: it sounded like something they could hunt. Dean was getting pretty fucking tired of them not being forthcoming with information.

“Possibly,” the first time Max had spoken the whole time, “But we thought we took care of them last time.”

“Last time?” the edge was back in his voice. A threatening step towards the smaller man.

“Dean,” a warning. He turned to glare at Michael who was completely unaffected by it. Sam was off the stool ready to intercede if necessary. “She didn't tell you?”

“Tell me what?” where the hell was his gun? Someone was gonna get shot. “You better start talking.”

Isabel's voice was thick, “A couple of months ago, after J.J. she made us stop at some bar,” the Roadhouse. The woman who had asked for him right before he'd shown up there the first time. The woman he hadn't asked about until weeks later. “You weren't there so we headed back. We ran into a couple of Skins. She...”

Kyle cleared his throat and picked up the story, “Michael and her were taken. They wanted him, she was just there. They only had her a couple of days before Michael managed to get them out.”

A couple of days. A couple of fucking days. She hadn't said a word. Had said that the projection was the result of a nightmare, nothing to worry about. But he had known. Known it was a lie. Known he shouldn't have left her alone. Known that it hadn't been a good idea (even if it had been necessary) cause this was what Liz did. Liz got in trouble. Every time she could she did.

And he hadn't been there to protect her.

Either time.

Some husband he was turning out to be he couldn't even protect his wife.

A small cry shattered the silence then another slightly louder one. A baby's cry.

Jimmy.

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.

I know I posted yesterday but I figured what the hell why not again today


“Yeah, um, so,” Liz's voice was distant and wavering on the other end of the line. He had managed to give Sam the slip only minutes before her call came through. Like clock work. 12:03. If she was going to call it was always at 12:03.

“You alright?” He checked around him making sure that he couldn't be seen. Sam would be back at the motel soon and it wouldn't do to be spotted. Not when he was suppose to be in some blond-bombshells apartment doin' the dirty. The less questions that his brother asked about his sex life the better.

Dean spoke to his wife less than he was comfortable with as it was, he didn't need to have his excuse blown.

“That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about,” he couldn't tell if she was tense or amused.

“What happened?” how quickly could he be back at the Tavern? Two days? Maybe three tops if Sam agreed to drive through the night.

“You remember the car show that we went to,” of course he did. He'd dragged her to it so that they could find her a proper car. A rusted through 1988 Honda Civic was not a car. It was an abomination, “that we kinda got carried away after.”

A black 1968 Chevrolet Camaro? Of course they'd gotten carried away. “Yeah?”

“Do you remembered how much we got carried away?” It was one of his finer memories. His appreciation of Liz's new car had increased exponentially.

“What are you getting at?”

“I'm pregnant,” huh? What? Did she say what he thought she just said?

“Come again?”

“Pregnant. Knocked up. Expecting. With child. Have a bun in the oven. Pick whatever one you're most comfortable with,” Dean sank heavily to the ground.

“Pregnant,” now she was just laughing at him, “Holy...”

“Are you ok?” why was everything getting darker?

Sam watched as his brother practically ran out of the room and up the stairs confused as more than he had been that morning. Nothing from the moment they had stepped into the bar had made any sense. What was a skin, a kind of shapeshifter? Who were these people? Who was Liz and why was his brother so upset about her going missing?

The crying continued.

The shorter blond woman stood composing herself and turned to him. Maria, Dean had called her, “You should come too,” she held out her hand. “I'm Maria.”

He took it, “Sam.”

“It's nice to finally meet you,” finally? Dean talked about him? What the hell was going on? He needed a freakin' explanation.

They walked up the stairs each step getting them closer to the crying. The apartment was small, the livingroom and kitchen in one space then a door that led to the source of the noise. It looked... lived in.

Pictures lining the walls. Books stacked haphazardly on shelves and tables. Clothes hanging off the back of chairs. The bedroom wasn't much different except for the addition of baby furniture. Changing table. Small dresser. Crib.

He wasn't sure why his brother was standing in the middle of the room just staring at the crib but he though it looked almost like fear. Maria threw her arms up in frustration as Sam's eye caught on a plaque hanging under a shelf of Buddhas over the changing table.

“Oh for the love of all things holy,” she picked up the screaming baby and thrust it into Dean's arms. He stood there awkwardly handling the infant, “he's not going to break.” The crying continued. She snapped. “Rock him.”

Dean did so. Sam was still staring at the plaque.

Joshua James Parker Winchester.

J.J.

The crying finally stopped.

“There you go Dad,” they both looked at Maria.

“Dad,” the brothers spoke simultaneously. One in wonder. One in disbelief.

Dean was a dad. A dad. Dean. His brother. His brother was a father. Dean, the guy who thought that bodily excretions were amusing was a dad... The world had gone mad.

Sam watched as his brother stood gently if stiffly rocking his son, face lit with a goofy smile. A dad. Holy shit his brother was a dad.

He needed to sit down.

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'm going away for the weekend and then I start work so I knew I had to get this up for my fantastic reviewers. I swear you guys are the cherry on top the whipcream :}

See you next week. Enjoy.

It was cold. And wet. Did she mention cold? Liz has Michaels jacket on over one of his sweatshirts. Not much of her own clothes were fitting her lately. She takes the receiver off the hook, leaning against the glass of the booth and dials a familiar number. Nifty powers allow her not to pay.

It barely rings before Dean picks it up. Figures that he'd be waiting for the call after all he's the one who emailed her and asked that she call him. Which she did as soon as she got the message.

“Hey,” his voice was soft and tired. Alarm bells are ringing in her head. There's something wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Hey?” it could be her imagination. Just because he didn't start the conversation off with innuendo doesn't mean that there is anything wrong. Sam and him hold a crazy schedule he could just be tired.

“How are you?”

“Good, we're good,” her hand comes to rest tenderly on her swollen stomach. “Not so nauseous anymore.” Probably because she has stopped eating chicken whipped cream surprise.

“That's good,” his voice drifts off as if it were difficult for him to speak. He never had difficulty saying what he needed to.

“Dean,” panic was starting to set in, “what's wrong?”

“What?” avoidance a dead give away. Something had happened. “Nothing.”

“I have ways of getting information Winchester just tell me,” silence. Damn hormones, Liz wipes away the tears angrily. “Please tell me.”

“I had a heart attack,” she could hear what he left unsaid: I'm gonna die.

“How long?” Max was back at the hotel, wherever he was they could make it to him. They just needed a little bit of time to make it there.

“Sam's found a faith healer he wants to try. We're headed there now,” he wasn't even listening to her. Familiar heat built up under her skin. If she didn't calm down she was going to melt the phone.

“No,” stronger than she felt. “We're in Lansing, you get your ass here or tell me where you are. Max will make you as good as new.”

“I gotta go. Sam's coming back,” the faint click of the call being ended.

“Dean,” no answer. Of course there was no answer. “DEAN.”

Dean couldn't pull his eyes away. This little thing, such a little thing. And he'd made him. All ten little toes, ten little fingers, one not so little appendage. He wanted to sit here and absorb all of Jimmy's tiny features. It was amazing, he was amazing.

The small mouth opened in a yawn, dark eyes that were just starting to look more like his own were drooping shut, comforted by the continuous back-and-forth movement of the swing.

No picture, no video, no detailed conversation, nothing could have prepared him for what it was like to be in the presence of his son... his son. He still couldn't wrap his mind around it. Nine months of pregnancy, three months of existence and it was just hitting Dean now.

He had a son and he couldn't get himself to look away from the small being.

Liz and him had set certain conditions for both of their safety while he was gone. For Jimmy's safety. None of those mattered anymore. It was just Dean and Jimmy. He'd do anything for this little person. Anything to keep him and anything to keep him safe.

Is this how his father had felt? Is this why he had traded his life for Dean's?

The door cracked open, Maria slipping in. They'd left him alone, them alone. Given them time to adjust to one another. His eyes didn't leave the infants sleeping form as Maria sank down on the bed next to him, hands clutched tightly around a hardcover notebook.

“What aren't you telling me?” his voice was hoarse from not being use. He'd been locked in the room for hours, in Liz's room with their son. He'd never imagined that he'd be alone in it. Maria shifted in her seat. They'd always gotten along which is why she'd was the one seated next to him rather than one of the others.

“We think she knew... we know she knew what was coming,” he took the journal from shaking hands, settling it in his lap. Maria stood up and walked back to the door. “We'll find her Dean. We'll find Liz.”

And it was just the two. Dean opened the cover of the note book, immediately greeted with the familiar etchings of Liz's hand.

'My name is Elizabeth Parker and I've found someone that makes me smile.'

- - - - -

“Welcome to the Abyss man,” Kyle said slapping him on the back before walking off.

Sam was still in shock.

Aliens. Friggin' Aliens.

Leave it to Dean to get involved with the extraterrestrial as well as the supernatural. It shouldn't really surprise him that his brother got so thoroughly tangled up in this. His brother was the poster boy for crap that went bump in the night why not add little not so green men into it.

His brother.

Who happened to be a dad. And married. To a woman that was healed by a human alien hybrid reincarnated king from the planet Antar who was being chased by a Special Unit in the FBI. His brother who was bonding with said womans son. His son.

Why hadn't Sam known about any of this? He needed answers but he knew that it was best to leave Dean alone at the moment. His brother needed to brood before anything could be dealt with.

But when he was done with his alone time Dean had better open his mouth. If he didn't Sam was going to take a baseball bat to the Impala until he got answers. Dammit he was serious too.

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: Sam and Dean talk a bit in this chapter but the big answers don't come till later.

It was either whipped cream and chicken (my brothers concoction) or my aunts real life craving of pudding and pickles. The chicken sounded less... disgusting. Pregnant women are weird.

Was going to post this yesterday but work killed. Little children will suck the life out of you :}

'And you'd better come come, come come to me, Better come come, come come to me, Better run, run run, run run to me, You'd better run...' I Found A Reason, Cat Power.

Sam walked into the apartment, J.J.'s small weight resting in the crook of his arm face pressed into his shoulder, reassuring and grounding. Music spilled from strategically placed speakers mellow, melodious, and nothing like what his brother usually listened to. A woman. A piano. Moving in its simplicity.

Dean was leaning against the far wall, legs spread out on the floor, feet firmly planted, beer bottle resting in his hand, eyes closed, lips silently wrapping around the lyrics. The last haunting note hung in the air letting the room drop into stillness momentarily before starting again.

How many times had it played already?

His nephew shifted his head, Sam could feel his little mouth yawn against his neck. J.J. had been fighting everyone, including himself, for over an hour. Refusing to drop into the sleep that they all desperately needed after the hours they had spent pouring over what little they had on Liz's disappearance, minus her journal which Dean had been given to read.

Kyle, Maria, Michael, Max, Isabel.

They hadn't helped. Whenever Sam asked questions as to what he could do to get the baby to relax he got blank stares and when he asked if there was a reason for J.J. to be so restless, wondering if babies could teeth so young, they had just looked up the stairs to Liz's apartment where Dean had holed himself away and said 'he has his mothers gift'.

Like he was suppose to know what that meant.

'She's different' doesn't exactly cover what his mother could actually do.

The song started again.

“Dean,” green eyes met his, ripping right through him.

There were someways he never expected to see his brother, someways he never wanted to see him.

Right after their dad had died Dean had acted out, throwing himself into the hunt recklessly but he had still been Dean. Cocky. Sarcastic. A pain in the ass. More muted but still Dean.

The man in front of him was torn apart. Tailspinning. It was like the safety net had been removed. He looked like Sam had felt after Jess had died. He looked like John had every anniversary of his wifes death.

J.J. whimpered, tiny fist twisting at the collar of his uncles shirt. Dean automatically put down the bottle and reached out for him. Sam hesitated. He'd come up to check on his brother not to pass off the baby.

“Give him here Sammy,” there was no slur to the words, just a weariness that had booked no room for argument. Sam found himself handing over J.J., wincing at his small cries. Dean placed him on his thighs allowing little feet to restlessly kick at his abdomen.

They sat there, Dean calmly running his fingers along the side of his sons face whose eyes were starting to droop. A miniature hand grabbed one of the much larger fingers dragging it to his mouth. Sam watched in awe as they both visibly relaxed at the action.

Despite that Dean had practically raised him, Sam had never considered that he would be such a natural at fatherhood.

The song started again breaking Dean out of his trance. He spoke more to himself than to Sam, “This is Liz's favorite song, she use to play it all the time,” a wry smile. “Last time I turned it off she threw her shoe at me.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Thirteen months,” there was no hesitation in his answer. They'd been on the road for almost the whole time to find their dad and the thing that had killed their mom and Jess. This had been kept a secret for over a year.

“Was dad there?” Sam's voice was tight, hurt. His brother had gotten married without telling him, to a woman he had never met, had a son he'd only just found out about.

“No,” he didn't understand that. How was their dad not there? “Just Kyle to officiate.”

“Why?” Dean got up, J.J. carefully balanced in his arms, beer long forgotten. He turned the stereo off dropping the apartment into silence. There was more to the question than curiosity. “Why didn't you tell me about them?”

J.J. shifted uneasily and his brother shot him a sharp look of warning as he settled into the rocking chair. It was scarily domestic. Sam wished he had a camera to capture the scene. No one would believe this. If he wasn't seeing it he wouldn't believe it.

“It was what we needed to do,” he was unapologetic. “ It wasn't safe. Not for you. Not for them.”

“Even after Jess?”

“Especially after,” Sam couldn't help but understand. He had been so absorbed in the hunt for the yellow eyed demon that Dean didn't want to risk the rest of his family by bringing him to them. People around them died faster than those not, so Dean had stayed away.

And now, the risk didn't matter because the consequences outweighed them.

“Would you have told me?” teeth clenched, lips pressed together tightly, eyes narrowed. Stupid question.

“You're my brother Sammy. I just needed time.”

But how much would it have taken. Until after they had killed the YED?

Sam watched his brother lose his fight with exhaustion and drift off to sleep, still gently rocking back-and-forth. J.J.'s little mouth was hanging open, mirroring his fathers but missing the slight snore. Sam moved him to his crib and made his way downstairs.

Now wasn't the time for hurt feeling. He had a sister-in-law to track down.



oh, tell me any questions you have so I make sure I address them in the coming chapters. Since I know them I sometimes forget to include them.

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.

Show Me the Way to Go Home is a folk drinking song



White. Blinding, never ending, never changing white.

She hated the color.

Never wanted to see it again. Wanted there to never again be such an absence of... everything. Color. Noise. Life. She wanted free open spaces and all the variety that nature afforded. She wanted to feel safe and warm.

Liz pressed her eyes tightly together to block out the white. Letting herself drift into her imagination, her memories.

Her two men, they had the same smile. She had noticed it the first time her little Jimmy had grinned in his sleep. It was the sort of smile that sent tingles straight to your toes. Much more innocent than his fathers but the effect was the same.

They were happy and you wanted to keep them that way.

There was a burning behind her eyes, the desire was there but she didn't have any tears left to give. Liz tightened her arms where they were wrapped around herself, it was so cold. When she got cold at night Dean would let her hog the blankets, folding her into his arms.

Even when he was passed out, the slightest hint of a shiver and he would tighten his grip around her.

Her Dean.

They wouldn't contact him right away. She had told them not too when the skins had started to pop up again and the FBI had started to poke around where Isabel had put down roots. There had just been so much happening. So much to protect him from.

Even before he had left to look for his dad. Even more after he had.

She had decided. She had made the decision to keep him away from as much of the alien abyss as she could. He had too many of his own problems to deal with, he didn't need hers. Their vows didn't cover this.

He did the same. She knew he did.

Dean withheld the truth from her to keep her from the consequences of such knowledge, just like she had. They protected each other with silence.

Liz wished she hadn't asked them to wait. She needed him. Needed his help. Needed him to find her. Her mind automatically reached for him, going for the comfort of seeing him, feeling him but couldn't reach out. The serum in her bloodstream stopping it.

So she imagined. Her boys. Together. Safe.

Just like she had always wanted them to be but was too afraid to let happen.

The door to her cell scratched open letting in a series of white figures. More white.

Rough hands dragged her to her feet and pulled her out of the room, her legs unable or unwilling to support her weight. The coldness of the hall soaked into her already frigid body. Once again the dreaded sound of metal on metal.

“No,” her voice was weak. “No. No. No. No.”

They strapped her to the chair, ignoring her protests. Plastic circles were pressed to her temples and on other parts of her body, over the burn marks of previous 'sessions'. Colorful wires ran to a gray steel box in an organized mess, the black knobs glaring.

“Hello Elizabeth,” Agent Forscyth the newest head of the Special Unit. Just as cruel and sadistic as Pierce had been. His hand came to rest on her lower abdomen, roughly dragging across exposed stitches. They had been fascinated by the fact that she had given birth. “Are you ready to talk today?”

She didn't respond, not that he thought she would. It was a game now. Who could hold out longer. In each scenario Liz lost. If she held out then the more painful the experience became. If she gave in then her friends/her family died.

The voltage started out low, enough to make her whimper but not so much that she was incapacitated. Just a taste, a sampling of what he had in store. She focused on a memory. Or a dream she wasn't sure which it was now.

Wrapped in a large quilt protected from the coolness of fall. Jimmy snuggled on her chest, Kyle sprawled next to her as Jaws played on the television. Even after Jimmy had fallen asleep she had kept him there, stoking his hair remembering a time when she had done the same with Dean.

What was the song that they had sung on the boat before the shark attacked? The one that always got stuck in her head. It had been playing in a loop when they had taken her.

“What are you?” a brief respite but still just a part of the routine.

Her voice was a whisper making him lean down to hear her, he knew the answer before he heard it. It was the same as before, “Show me the way to go home.”

A brief nod and a higher voltage strung through her slight frame shaking it. Clenched teeth stopped her from screaming out. The pain was still manageable. Her labor had been worse even if it had been quick for a first child.

Fourteen hours, no medication only the techniques of an experienced midwife and the little relief free movement with the help of a doula could afford. Science needed to find a way for men to give birth, the women of the world had been doing it for long enough.

“How many of you are there?”

“I'm tired and I wanna go to bed.”

She had a good bed at home. An old bed but a good bed. So soft, she'd sink right into it and roll straight to the middle. Always to the middle, where well worn springs sagged together. When Dean was home she always ended up on top of him in the middle.

“Where did you come from?”

“I had a little drink,” Forscyth jerked her head up by her hair, “about an hour ago.”

Liz hadn't had a drink in a long time. First being pregnant then breastfeeding. Not that she had ever been big on drinking, even owning the Tavern she could count the number of times she had gotten drunk on one hand, starting with her first time in Vermont.

Kyle liked to drink, knew what a good drink was which explained why he handled the bar aspect of the Tavern and she handled the food part. Kyle, her Buddha brother. He'd gotten Jimmy a small set of Buddha statues for above his crib.

“Where are the others?”

She brought her eyes up to meet his, “And it went straight to my head.”

A nod and the power was brought up as high as it could.

The rest of the words were lost to her but that didn't matter because her throat was too raw from screaming to say anything anyway.




Eeee, getting closer to the end. Hope you enjoyed.

Until Tuesday :}