Summary: He's still all stubborn leather and gunpowder, and she's still a bit of a wallflower, but there's enough heart to mend the broken bits between. He knows, and Sam knows, and she knows it works the day they show up on her porch, and every day after. Their makeshift family surviving somehow. Dean/OC

AN: This is sort of a collection of one-shots and drabbles to capture the aftermath of What it Takes (WIT), starting from the last chapters continuing on. There'll be flashback chapters here and there to break things up too. Requests will be accepted!

The story title is taken from a song by Stevie Nicks, featuring Don Henley, "Leather and Lace," while the chapter title credit goes to Alan Parsons Project.

Leather and Lace

"Saying I'm fragile
I try not to be
I search only
For something I can't see,"

—Stevie Nicks & Don Henley

I: Games People Play

"We are not selling my parents house."

"Lena—"

"I said no, Dean."

"You know we can't stay here. If the damn Djinn know where we are, how long do you think it's gunna take before something worse does?"

Most times, she didn't mind when he was right. Actually, Elena deferred to him on a lot of things.

She'd left it up to him whether or not he wanted to go hunting with his brother. While she wished it could be like things used to be, the three of them in the Impala driving down the interstate, she had a different life now. She had Annie.

Of course, Elena couldn't even say how happy she was when Dean decided to stay with her, but she couldn't help her own worry for Sam. She and Dean didn't know the Campbells. Not like Sam seemed to anyway.

Elena missed Sam too, and she could tell that even though Dean wanted to be here (and was almost happy here), he also wanted to be with his brother. She understood that too.

But right now, she couldn't fucking stand that he was about to win an argument—a very important argument, mind you—with pure logic and none of the sudden anxiety she felt sliding under her skin.

"I just…I can't. I can't do it."

Her mother's garden was here. Her old jewelry, a sewing kit, pictures and other things Elena knew she wouldn't be able to take with her if they moved. She wouldn't be able to box it up like memorabilia, and stick it in some attic or storage unit, never to be seen again. Because she wouldn't be strong enough to open those boxes after they were closed.

Dean's hands gently on her shoulders brought a little comfort.

"I wish there was something else—anything else."

His heart clenched at the tears swelling in her eyes, and he sighed, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her close. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she buried her face into his chest.

"We can just move," she said, her words muffled until she looked up at him. "We don't have to sell it."

His brows furrowed.

"'Just move?' We don't have the money to buy a house."

They were living off her parents' life insurance and Dean's job at the local mechanic. Not exactly a breadwinning lifestyle.

But Elena was suddenly quiet. The expression on her face was thoughtful, becoming more solemn as he watched her think. As much as he hated having to do this, knowing full well how much it would cost her, he didn't see any other choice.

"There might be a way," she said, though it didn't sound like she was happy about it.

"What do you mean?"

Elena looked skyward and sighed. She pulled away from him slowly, but didn't let go of his shirt, instead smoothing down wrinkles in a way that drew up a red flag in his mind.

"Remember how I told you about my mom's side of the family?" she asked, a little too innocently.

"Yeah…"

They're loaded, but insane, were her distinct words.

He didn't like where this was going.

"What would you say about taking a trip to New Jersey?"

"So, is it like a day trip or what?"

"Man, I got no fuckin' clue," Dean said into his cell phone. He glanced behind him and checked again that Elena was in the kitchen. "She's on the phone with her aunt now."

"What, you're just gunna show up there and ask for money?"

"We're a little more put together than that, Sam."

"Hey, I'm just telling you what it sounds like."

"Nah, we're going there for a 'visit.' Elena's giving them some bullshit that since she had Annie, she realized it wouldn't be fair if our kid didn't have her whole family, not just us."

"And that's a lie I'm guessing?"

"Apparently that side of the walnut tree kicked her mom out for marrying her dad, then cut all of them off. So yeah, Elena doesn't exactly care if they send her a fruit basket."

"Okay, and what story did you guys come up with?"

Dean scratched the back of his head.

"Same one we've been using."

"Fair enough. So they think she's married to a mechanic and just had a baby, and…what, she's ready to reconnect with her mom's family?"

"That's the basic line."

"Well…good luck then."

"What'll you be doing?"

"Same old. Caught a case and heading to Wisconsin."

"Send me some whiskey."

"Sure. You'll probably need it."

"Yeah…talk to ya' later, Sammy."

Dean sighed and spotted Elena on the couch with Annie in front of her, sleeping in her bouncer. He made his way over and leaned against the armrest with his arms crossed.

"No, no, we'll definitely drive," Elena said. Her phone was still being propped up to her ear with a shoulder as she folded laundry and stared up at the weather forecast on the TV.

"Yes, we can still be there by one, the trip will only take two days…oh, you don't have to trouble yourself, we can…" Elena closed her eyes, willing herself to sound cheerful as she restrained a sigh. "Okay, thanks, Aunt Cindy. That sounds very nice…see you in a few days. Have a good night."

She dropped the pair of boxers she'd been folding into her lap and snapped her phone shut before falling back onto the couch.

"A few days, huh?" Dean asked.

"She insisted," she replied without opening her eyes. "Her son just got his doctoral license and they're throwing a lunch for him."

Dean snorted.

"A lunch."

"Be glad it isn't a brunch."

"Think they'll have those fancy lady sandwiches?"

"I'm sure they'll have anything short of seared prawns."

"Ain't that just fancy shrimp?"

Elena cracked an eye open at him.

"You're going to need something to wear."

"What, clothes? Think I've got those."

She closed her eyes again and shook her head.

"No, Dean…no."

He sighed and nudged her over, clearing a space for him to sit on the couch beside her.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I have some nice things."

"Like what?"

His eyes then lightened with mischief. He leaned closer to her, one of his hands beginning to smooth a trail up her thigh while the other tangled in her hair, at the base of her neck.

"That sexy black thing I know you've got hidden in the back of your closet?"

Her mouth twitched as his found just below her ear, tickling her as well as sending tingles down her spine. She opened her eyes and turned her head toward him, almost but not quite meeting his lips with her own.

"The top I wore to that bar a million years ago?"

"Was only a couple years ago."

She shifted away from him a bit, disappointing him as she crossed her arms.

"If I remember right, you didn't like that blouse."

His brows drew together in confusion, while she smiled.

"You asked me if I'd lost a fight with a pair of scissors."

"'Cause it was all open in the back. It was thirty degrees outside!" he defended himself, but his eyes betrayed him.

"That was a bullshit excuse and you know it," she smirked. Dean raised a brow at her, but smirked back.

"Okay," he said. They could play this game.

He leaned forward and slipped his hand underneath her shirt that was clinging to her form. She still hadn't lost the curves she'd gained from the pregnancy, and he liked that. She complained about feeling too snug in her jeans. In his opinion, it just made everything she wore fit better.

His hands met at the small of her back and threaded behind her, bringing her close enough that their chests touched.

"You're right." He leaned forward, leaving barely a space between her lips and his. "Maybe seeing you like that made me wish we weren't going anywhere that night."

Her smile grew. He knew very well they hadn't even been close to dating back then, but it was a night they almost kissed for the first time…after a fair share of alcohol.

"Oh yeah?" she asked coyly, though her arms slid around his neck, her hands in his hair. "Why's that?"

Instead of moving forward that one inch, Dean bypassed her lips to whisper in her ear.

"Maybe seeing a little piece of what I couldn't have made me want to take the whole thing off."

Elena shivered.

"Who said you couldn't have it then?" she uttered.

"What do you mean?" he asked, pausing with his lips against her neck. She smirked then, and it was her turn to whisper in his ear.

"Why do you think I wore it, Dean? It wasn't Sam I could feel checking out my ass like a third-degree burn."

He smiled against her skin before blazing a trail to her lips. She tilted her head and bit his lower lip, almost eliciting a base groan from him as his fingers slid down into her jeans. Dean began pushing her back onto the couch, but was stopped by a short, piercing cry that startled both parents.

Annie looked up at them with wide green eyes and a toothless smile. She kicked her feet a couple times, effectively bouncing herself in the bouncer. Elena couldn't believe she forgot her own child was there, watching.

But not really watching, right? How much could a six month old process?

Dean narrowed his eyes playfully at the smiling face.

"What do ya want?"

"Dean!"

"She should go back to sleep if she doesn't wanna get traumatized."

Elena reached with a blind hand and found the pair of boxers that had fallen from the folded pile.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah."

She smacked him with his own underwear.

She wasn't worried.

She wasn't.

It would just be her, Dean, and Annie. And Aunt Cindy, Uncle Tony, her cousins—however many of them that showed—and their parents, Great Aunt Rosetta and Great Uncle Sergio, and her grandmother. Her grandmother, whose stern face and sharp eyes had seared hers as a kid.

These were people she hadn't seen in over a decade, who didn't know she hunted the supernatural. Whose hunter boyfriend knocked her up and proceeded to stop the apocalypse from happening with his hunter brother. A hunter boyfriend she was not, in fact, married to.

A hand grasped her shoulder gently.

"You okay?" Dean asked. His gruff voice was both soothing and grounding.

"…Yeah."

Stiff nod.

"You ready?"

Slow breath.

…Another nod.

"Want me to knock?"

"No…I got it."

He slipped his free hand, the one that wasn't hefting Annie's carrier, into hers that had been shaking. She laced their fingers together and allowed herself one more deep, solidifying breath.

"Okay," she whispered.

It wasn't long before the door was answered.

"Hi, we're…I'm Elena Hayes. My aunt—"

"Ah yes, Mrs. Verona is expecting you. Please come in, and if I may, I can take your bags for you."

She wasn't worried.

Dean squeezed her hand once they stepped into the foyer. It was grand, like everything else about the oceanfront home. That was Long Beach for you.

Elena leaned slightly against him.

"It's bigger than I remember," she whispered. "It's weird."

"Why's that weird?" He had to crane his head downward a bit to whisper back.

"I was like…eight the last time I was here. Aren't things supposed to seem smaller when you grow up?"

Dean glanced up, taking in his surroundings by shaking his head.

"Maybe they renovated."

"Elena, darling, there you are!"

Cynthia Tiberio-Verona came down the wooden staircase with all the grace in her off-white ensemble and matching cream and gold wedges that Elena had spent almost three hours trying to perfect on her own black skirt and dark blue blouse. She'd even tucked it in, for Christ's sake.

"Hi, Aunt Cindy—"

The woman was already enveloping her into a series of perfunctory greeting motions, complete with a barely-touching kiss of the cheek and earnestly grasping Elena's hands at the finish.

"Hello, dear. It's been much too long…"

Elena felt as well as watched her aunt's appraising gaze that spared no inch, even down to her velvet dress shoes, elevated only at three inches (it was all she could handle without tripping).

"It appears you've grown up," she said, her cherry red lips smiling. There was something simultaneously genuine and fake about that smile. Something the Tiberio family had not invented, but in fact, had perfected. Aunt Cindy had married a Verano, but remained a Tiberio at her core as that assessing gaze shifted to her niece's companion, who tried his best to smile politely.

"This must be the husband you spoke of over the phone." The genial lilt to the Italian vowels of her accent hid something leading.

Dean was forced to let go of Elena's hand so he could introduce himself.

"Yes, I believe I know who you are," Cindy graciously shook his hand.

Not exactly a "nice to meet you," but the subtle smile never left her face as she turned her attention to the peacefully sleeping infant in the carrier. Dean lifted it so Cindy wouldn't have to bend very far to see her.

"And this angel must be Anna-María."

"Ann Marie," Elena corrected almost immediately, and cursed herself for doing so, as her aunt gave her a side glance and a raise of a brow that was at once playful, polite, yet the slightest bit reproving.

"Annie," Elena said, sinking herself deeper without being able to help it. "We call her Annie."

Cindy only smiled.

"Ah, of course," she said smoothly, though it was somewhat belated. "Well, everyone is already here. Fredrick will take your things up to the room prepared for you, and since you are not the only one with small children, we have hired an assistant for the day to take care of them. To give us adults time to chat, yes?"

Elena didn't think she heard right.

"Oh, you mean a nanny? You hired a nanny?"

"Just for the day, darling. Angela—there she is now. Angela! Come, dear. This is my niece, Elena, and her husband…Dean, was it? Yes, and their daughter Anna."

"She's beautiful, miss, just adorable!"

"Thank you," Elena said hesitantly.

"These are supplies, yes?" Cindy asked, pointing to the large bag on Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah, but—"

"I can take that for you," Angela offered.

"Please do," Cindy gestured for the woman to come forward and help the bag off Dean's shoulder, but the man recoiled a bit with uncertainty.

"Whoa, wait a second," Dean protested, and sent Elena a look that clearly said he didn't like this situation. His daughter wasn't going with anyone he didn't know.

"Hold on…stop!" Elena intervened, and stopped both Cindy and Angela's hands despite their confused looks. "She's only six months old. We've never left her in the care of anyone else before."

"I assure you, I'm a professional," Angela said earnestly. "I promise to take only the utmost care with her."

"How many kids you lookin' after?" Dean asked.

"Four. Two of them are seven and nine, so they will be entertained at their own table while I look after Chr…" Angela faltered slightly, but quickly corrected herself. "—Mr. Verano's two-year-old, and your Annie."

"Take it from me, one's already got your work cut out for you," he said, and held Annie's carrier decidedly close to his side. "We can take care of her."

Elena plastered a polite smile on her face and turned to her aunt with all the restraint she possessed.

"Aunt Cindy, I think we forgot something in the car. Would you mind if we stepped out for a second? We'll be right back and ready to meet everyone."

Cindy raised a bemused brow, but she eventually nodded.

"…Yes, dear. Go right on ahead. I have something to attend to, but I'll be back by the time you will, I'm sure."

"Perfect," Elena said, and held out a hand to Angela. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"No, Elena."

"Listen, just hear me out."

"I don't fucking know these people—"

"Angela stays in our line of vision. We can get through this lunch in one piece, and we don't look like the backwards idiots thoseuptight assholes already think we are."

"Your aunt thinks you're a backwards idiot?" Dean asked her dubiously. Elena gave him a flat look.

"Dean."

"…All right, all right. But in my sight, Lena. I mean it."

"I do too! You think I want to let go of her for half a second? Who gave birth here, me or you?"

"Hey, I cut the cord! I was in that room when you were drugged out with your legs put up!"

"Twenty hours of labor, Dean. Do you know what that is?"

"Oh, come on. I had a kidney stone once. Pretty much the same thing, right?"

Elena waited until Annie's carrier was safely on the ground before punching Dean in the stomach.

The cloth in his hand ran over steel and silver evenly, methodically, until old stains were memories, bland as his thoughts.

The cell phone lighting up on the nightstand, ringing and vibrating suddenly in the quiet, didn't even startle him. He paused in his task long enough to check the caller ID, debated momentarily with himself, hesitating, then holding it to his ear after hitting "ANSWER."

"Hello?"

"Sam…is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me."

There's a heavy sigh on the other line.

"Thank God. I guess…you sound alive."

"I said I would call," he reminded. "It's not safe for you to call me."

Not altogether true, but not exactly a lie either.

"I know…but I…I was worried."

"I know," said Sam (did he?). "What are you up to?"

"Well, I got an apartment in New York City not long after we talked the last time. I work for an art gallery now."

"That's great," he answered mechanically.

"Yeah, it's great out here! But…what are you doing now?"

"The usual, I guess," he said. "I'm working with some relatives now."

"With Dean?"

"No…he's with Elena in South Dakota." Sam restrained a sigh of boredom, even though he never remembered being bored talking to Sarah before. "Listen, Sarah, you caught me at a bit of a bad time…"

A lie.

"Can I call you back?"

"Oh…sorry. Yeah, I just thought…it's been over a year since I've seen you. You know…in person."

"I've been…busy."

"Yeah, I get that. I just…you promised me you would tell me…"

"I know," Sam said. "And I will…when I can, I'll come see that new apartment."

"Look, I know there's something wrong. I can hear it in your voice."

Sam, not knowing what to say, didn't answer.

"Just…take care of yourself. Please?"

"…I will."

The phone hung loosely in his hand as he fought to understand the past few minutes. In his mind, in memories, he could see himself smiling at the sound of her voice. Frowning at the sound of her problems.

"I know there's something wrong…"

Ever since that night, his mind had been blank, shades of black and white, when vaguely, he remembered there used to be color. Sparks of anger, relief, sadness, joy…

He wracked his brain, processing blank thoughts, and found nothing.

Something wrong…

They were led to the backyard veranda and served white wine, and were greeted by several of Elena's family members. Then her cousin Christopher, the guest of honor and Cindy's son, turned to her with a glass of wine in hand and a perfectly crafted smile. She was sure there were thousands of dollars in that smile.

"Elena, I hardly recognized you! What's it been, a decade?"

"About fifteen years," she corrected, but smiled as brilliantly as she could muster. "How are you, Chris?"

He dragged her into a cold, but polite hug before pulling away from her.

"I'm great," he continued. "I've just got my father's practice going in New York. I have to go back tomorrow, but it was thoughtful of my mother to put this together."

"I'm glad everything worked out for you," she said, and smiled up at Dean when he slipped his hand into hers after refilling his wine glass.

"Hi, I'm Dean," he said, and greeted the man with a firm handshake.

"Ah, you're her husband then."

"That's right."

"And my mother tells me you have a baby now too?"

"She's six months," Elena supplied, smiling.

"Congratulations. I'm sure that's difficult," Christopher said mildly, and greeted a blonde who came to his side with a kiss. "This is my wife, Natalie."

"Elena. Distant cousin," Elena said, and shook the woman's hand. Dean mustered a smile. He'd been faking the expression so long his cheeks were starting to hurt.

"Pleasure to meet you," Natalie replied, and her smile showed off perfectly whitened teeth as the diamonds in her earrings sparkled.

"Dean," he said. She smiled back, while Christopher laughed loudly.

"Distant? Yes, I suppose you could say that. Where is it you live now? Somewhere dust-eaten if I remember right."

Elena bit her tongue.

"South Dakota," she managed "pleasant" in her tone.

"Really, was that it?" Christopher asked.

"All my life," Elena said, and addressed Natalie, who hung onto her cousin's shoulder in a dress that looked far too snug to be comfortable.

"It was nice to see you," she said, and slid her hand around Dean's arm, ready to part ways.

"How about we save two seats at our end of the table," Christopher offered, to Elena's surprise. She'd thought he would've let them go without a second glance.

"Um…sure. But, I thought Aunt Cindy had arranged the seating."

"I asked her not to. More spontaneous that way, no?" he said, and placed a hand on the small of Natalie's back. "See you in a bit."

Elena and Dean watched the couple go before glancing at one another.

"I didn't know sitting was that spontaneous," he remarked. She sighed.

"It's just one night," she said, though she didn't know who she was reassuring.

Dean squeezed her hand, and she was damn grateful. He'd bought a new suit. A real suit, though decidedly more casual than his usual FBI getup, and was here with her, talking to people he couldn't give a rat's ass about just because she asked him to. And he was holding her hand.

"Lunch hasn't even started, and I wouldn't have gotten this far without you," Elena admitted. "Thanks for coming with me."

He raised her hand to his lips.

"Come on. You're starving. I'm starving." He smirked down at her. "Time for fancy shrimp."

"So Dean," Christopher said. Apparently conversation had circled enough that the man remembered him. "What's your line of work in?"

"My line of work," Dean repeated. Christopher sliced open a crab leg and buttered it before popping it into his mouth.

"I mean, I'm sure you're accomplished. But I can't imagine there's much to choose from in the Midwest, other than agriculture," he said with a self-amused grin.

Dean's reflexively turned a bit cold.

"I'm a mechanic."

"Ah, do you own your own dealership, is that it?" asked one of Elena's uncles. Tony, if he remembered right.

"No, I work for a local shop. The owner's my boss."

"Really, that small?" Christopher mused.

"Ever put any thought into owning your own?" asked Gino, his younger brother who was in the process of making a name for himself working in a chemistry lab for snack products.

"Long as my family's taken care of, I'm fine," Dean said curtly.

"He works very hard," Elena cut in. Under the table she squeezed his knee in support.

"I'm sure he does, dear," said Cindy. She held a glass of wine to her lips and added, "But a little ambition never hurt anyone."

"Being ambitious isn't always a strength," Elena replied, meeting her aunt's eyes calmly.

"Of course it is. How else can one make a profit?" Christopher laughed. "Well, besides knowing everyone in the business."

"The economy's good for it now," said Great Aunt Rosetta from across the table. "Good time to build up a business."

"What're you blabbing on about?" her husband beside her exclaimed. "This is the worst the economy's ever been!"

"I beg to differ—"

"Just what in the hell do you know about business?"

"I know plenty more than you, si vecchio salsiccia!"

"Salsiccia, eh? Devo essere vecchio non ho notato che ho sposato una strega croccante!"

"I swear to God, they'll argue until hell freezes them both over," Christopher waved dismissively to Dean, whose brows were raised in amusement.

"Been married fifty two years and still can't agree on anything short of the food they're shoving in their mouths," Gino remarked, and took a generous bite of his filet mignon. Some of its juices squirted from the corner of his mouth, staining his chin and making his mother roll her eyes.

"Do clean yourself, son. For heaven's sake," Cindy muttered.

"That's a long time," Dean commented.

"An eternity," Gino scoffed. Christopher scoffed and clasped a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"You only say that because you haven't found a woman."

"I did, you just got to her first," Gino teased.

"Well then you shouldn't have introduced us," Christopher grinned, and held Natalie's hand that wore her rather large marriage rings well.

"How did you two meet?" Elena asked. The younger woman sat next to her smiled prettily.

"I was Gino's secretary for a while," she said, her voice soft and velvety as she glanced over at Christopher. "Chris came in one day to see him, and I buzzed him in. He asked his brother about me and Gino introduced us."

Christopher smiled and laid his hand over hers, lacing their fingers together.

"Naturally I got her number and took her to lunch that day."

Natalie shared a sweet smile with him.

"We were married less than six months later."

"Six months?" Dean couldn't help but ask incredulously.

"More like four and a half, but it took forever to get the Plaza Hotel booked for the reception," Christopher said, absently toying with Natalie's wedding rings.

Elena resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead turning to Cindy.

"Where's Grandma?" she asked. Her aunt paused to sip her wine. Elena thought the action deliberate.

"She hasn't been feeling well lately," said Cindy. "She is in the house, upstairs resting."

Avoiding her own kids, and the rest of her childrens' kids, probably, Elena thought. Her grandmother was never the kindest woman, nor was she very social, especially without her grandfather, who Elena had few memories of. Though she remembered a graying, smiling man who once offered her fresh gingerbread cookies one at the only Christmas she'd ever went to at the Tiberio house—the same cookies she and Christopher had tried to pilfer before Aunt Cindy had caught them.

"But," Cindy said after a moment, "She asked for you, after supper. I mean to say earlier."

"Really?" Elena asked, veiling her surprise as mild interest. She thought she was going to have to sneak upstairs during coffee and dessert.

"Yes, you and your husband. I'll have someone see you upstairs when you're ready."

Elena shared a glance with Dean, who discreetly squeezed her hand under the table.

"Okay," she said. "Thanks."

"So, what's the big deal about your grandmother? Didn't you tell me she's just a senile old bag?" Dean whispered behind the butler's back.

Elena gave him a fierce look as they made their way down the hall on the second floor of the mansion.

"She is, but she basically controls the family from here in the main house," Elena whispered lowly. "Everyone's afraid of her."

"Why?"

"She makes Bobby look like a Hallmark card."

Dean pressed his chuckle into a smirk as the butler stopped at a door and the end of the hallway.

"One moment, please," he said, an unreadable expression on his face as he turned his back to them and knocked three times on the door.

"What is it?" a woman's low, snappish voice came from inside.

"Visitors, ma'am."

"Who is it?"

"Your granddaughter and her husband for you, ma'am."

"...Send them in."

The butler opened the door for them.

"She will see you now," he said. Elena and Dean nodded at him politely and entered a spacious bedroom that looked more like a living room at first, with a couch set in the center and a fireplace to the side. It was decorated as if Spanish style met Victorian—a clash of simple wood with gaudy wall hangings, paintings, tall candles, and small statues Dean made specific effort not to knock over.

Paloma Tiberio sat in a large cushioned chair, her gray and black threaded hair swept in a loose bun and a book in her lap. Dressed in comfortable, but elegant house robe, she appeared to be more like an old duchess than the head of a wealthy family.

"Hello, Elena," she said. Then her eyes, sharp for a woman over eighty, shifted with calculation. "And Dean, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Dean, nodding politely. He inwardly debated whether to offer his hand in greeting, but didn't think it would make a difference.

"Sit," she said, and motioned to the couch opposite her. Elena and Dean sat down stiffly.

"So…how've you been, Grandma?" Elena asked, trying not to sound tentative but also not sound too direct. Her grandmother had bluntness in spades.

"Here," she replied crisply, and retrieved a cup of tea from a tray next to her, raising it to her lips. "Running this household while my siblings and their children live frivolous lives."

Elena had to pause, considering her words with care.

"Sounds stressful," she said politely.

"Your older cousins are destroying a business my husband spent ten years building in Florence, then the next thirty in America after the war destroyed it." Paloma sighed, as if remembering who she was speaking to. "But I believe congratulations are in order. When were you two married?"

"Two years ago," Elena lied, sharing a glance with Dean. "Our daughter just turned six months."

Her grandmother raised a brow.

"I see you wear no ring," she said flatly. Elena blanked for an entire second, then mentally kicked herself.

How could I have forgotten something so stupid?

She could've just worn her mother's wedding ring. It was in a box in Elena's dresser.

"We were in a delicate financial situation when we married," Dean said, giving her knee a gentle squeeze. "Now that we're more comfortable, I plan on finding the biggest rock I can get."

When Dean grinned and winked subtly at her, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

You're such a dork.

But that stupid grin was everything she fell for a year ago.

"I see," Paloma said, with a certain lilt in her voice that snapped Elena's attention back to the situation at hand. Her grandmother sipped her tea again.

"I suppose the wedding was a small affair then?" she continued. "I assume, because you neglected to invite your mother's family. And I imagine there was no christening…for the child, I mean."

"It was very small," Elena replied, trying to keep her tone as civil as possible. If there was one thing that pissed her off beyond reason, it was passive aggressive. "And no, there was no christening."

"I only ask, because it seems rather odd of you to come here now, when any offering of making amends could have been extended then, at a more prudent time." Paloma shut the book on her lap and set it on the tea tray. Elena stared back calmly, though her body was tense with anger. Dean glanced over at her from the corner of his eye and wondered how long it would take before she snapped.

"I haven't done anything wrong," said Elena. "I didn't come here to make amends."

"That's not what my daughter said." Paloma folded her hands. "I heard about your father's passing. My condolences."

Elena was too angry to reply, or even offer a nod.

"I had thought that, perhaps, you would come to rectify what had been broken after Lorelei ran off with him, bless her soul."

For a long moment Elena stared at the too nonchalant woman in front of her. A woman she should have respect, even have some kind of love for.

"How dare you?"

A kind of incredulous anger was burning furiously just under her skin.

"You have no right to talk about either of my parents."

Paloma raised a brow.

"She's my daughter—"

"She was my mother, and she would never have done to me what you did to her." Elena's voice and body shook, but her gaze was steady, even when she stood up sharply and reached out her hand to Dean, who followed her lead and took her hand in his.

"And if you ever cared about what happened to her at all, you would've come to her when she was dying on a hospital bed."

Just as she turned to leave, Dean at her side, her grandmother's voice stopped her.

"You're leaving then," she said, her gaze knowing. "Without asking me for money?"

Elena paused, then slowly turned on her heel.

"You're no different from the other brats my children made," said Paloma. "Somehow they never grew out of bleeding their old grandmother for a signed check, a favorite pastime I suppose."

Elena shook her head.

"I don't need your money."

Paloma scoffed.

"Yes you do. Why else come here?" she asked. "Not to settle a grudge that began before you were even born."

"I just wanted to save the last bit of them I could," said Elena. "But not like this. I won't play your sick game."

"Game? What game?" Paloma asked. "It's not I that's been lying ever since you were welcomed in."

Elena shook her head, subconsciously clenching the fist at her side and Dean's hand at the other.

"Fair enough," she said. "But while you sit there and pass judgment on your family like the damn Godfather, my mom was a real mother. But coming here?"

Elena sighed and shrugged.

"It taught me something," she said. "So thanks."

Her grandmother smiled mildly and leaned her chin on her hand.

"And what would that be?" she asked. Elena smiled, her eyes shining.

"She did a damn good job."

Once Annie was strapped in the backseat and they were over ten miles away from the estate, Dean pulled over and let Elena cry into his new suit for a while.

"You kicked ass, babe," he assured, while his fingers slid soothingly through her hair. "You have nothing to feel bad about."

"But what happened to me, Dean?" she asked, with a sniffle. "What happened to my fucking pride? My dad would roll over in his grave if I'd taken money from that bitch. Why didn't you stop me?"

"Hey, it's your family," Dean said, tightening his hold on her. "And I knew you'd listen to whatever your gut was telling you when the time came."

Then he smiled and kissed the corner of her mouth.

"Whatever you decided to do, I would've backed your play." Then his expression became playful. "You've followed me blind enough times for me to pay you back. Just this once though."

Elena's mouth twitched at a smile. She leaned up and kissed him softly.

"I'll take that as a thank you," he said. Her smile deepened, and she closed her eyes, leaning her forehead tiredly against his chest. He rubbed her arms soothingly.

"Dean…"

I love you.

The words nearly came out.

She inhaled deeply, let the breath out slowly.

"Can we go home?" she asked. He smiled and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"Yeah."

He sat straight in the driver's seat of the Impala and sped back onto the road, giving the finger to the car honking furiously behind.

Elena shook her head and twisted to see Annie still asleep (miraculously) in the backseat.

"Remind me to call Bobby when we get back," she said. "We might need his truck to help get some of the loads into storage."

Dean glanced at her out the corner of his eye.

"You sure, Lena?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling sadly. "It won't be forever."

Dean sent her one last look before letting out a long breath through his nose.

"Where do you wanna move?" he asked.

"I dunno…Chicago?"

"Nah. Too many fucking people. Indiana?"

"No. Too much corn, not enough civilization."

"There's plenty of nice towns in Indiana."

"Come on, Dean. If we're gunna move, let's live somewhere fun for once. How about Minneapolis?"

"I've had enough of Minnesota to last me a lifetime. How about…Sioux City? It's only an hour and a half from Sioux Falls."

Elena considered it.

"Do you think it's far enough from Hill City?"

"Probably, but let's look at some places at least as far as Illinois just to be sure."

"What about Sam? I'm worried about him, out there on his own," Elena said. Dean's expression turned more solemn at the mention of his brother.

"He's not alone," he said eventually. "He's hunting with family on my mom's side, remember?"

"I know, and no offense but…can we trust them?" she asked.

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "But Sam does…that's gotta be enough for now, I guess."

No matter how uneasy it made him.

The phone was in his hand. His thumb hovering over the call button.

Do it.

He should...but why should he?

Dean's number was stark bold on the small iPhone screen, but something kept him from pressing the button.

I'm fine, he thought blankly. I'm fine.

"Sam?"

Samuel was calling for him, probably an update on their werewolf hunt.

Sam pocketed his phone.

"Coming."

This will probably be the longest chapter, but don't hold me to that! Let me know what you guys thought and I'll see how soon I can get the next chapter out.

~Translations –

Italian:

"I know plenty more than you, si vecchio salsiccia!"

"Salsiccia, eh? Devo essere vecchio non ho notato che ho sposato una strega croccante!"

English:

"I know plenty more than you, you old sausage!"

"Sausage, eh? I must be old not to have noticed I married a crusty hag!"