Epilogue

The three hunters had taken Bobby up on his offer to let them stay at his house while Dean fixed the car. It had basically been totaled and it would have been easier to find a new vehicle. That didn't matter to Dean and none of them broached the topic with him. There wouldn't have been a fight, not on this. He would have just stormed off. It didn't matter ultimately. If they stayed, if they hit the road, if they rebuilt the Impala, if they found something new. John Winchester was still dead, and the boys were acting predictably.

Staying at Bobby's was almost like staying at home, almost normal. But it wasn't. Things were still strange, and nothing felt real or right. The energy at Bobby's house was predictable, each of them mourning their losses in their own way. They spent the better part of the first day dealing with paperwork and all the ugly business of taking possession of the body. By the time they returned home, all four hunters went about things in near silence. Even if there were something to say, no one had anything left.

Mae wasn't sure how to help Dean. Or Sam for that matter. No matter what had happened, they had just lost their dad and there was nothing that would make things better. Once all of the adrenaline and push to take care of John's remains had passed, Sam finally started feeling the culmination of his injuries and stress. He was the only one of them who was able to easily sleep that night and most of the next day.

Dean didn't even try to sleep. Not much anyway. He slept only because he was exhausted enough to do so. Instead, he went almost immediately to work at the first hint of light that morning. He had to fix it. Now, strictly from a structural standpoint, Mae would have junked the car. There was so much work to do to even make it sound, let alone make it run. There would be parts they needed to track down, and a lot of back breaking work. Finding a new car, even the same make and model would have been simpler and faster. She knew Dean wouldn't hear anything along those lines.

He was unusually withdrawn too but no one said anything about it. Mae wanted to do something for him, knowing there was no quick solution or magic word she could give him. She could sympathize with the loss of a loved one. She never knew her birth parents. Bobby was the closet she'd ever had to a father, but she'd always viewed him more as an uncle. She wanted to think what it would be like to lose Bobby, but she wasn't sure that she would feel the same hole in her heart that Dean felt.

Once he was back on his feet, Sam pestered his brother, asking if he needed help or if there was anything he could do to help with the car. Because she empathized with what Dean was going through and he was firmly committed to pushing everyone away, she gave him the space he needed. For a couple of days anyway. Mae thought Dean might have taken his brother's offer if he thought he would be of any use to him. That was Mae's in. He let her start helping him with the car.

She helped him tear down the car to get to the frame of it. Fortunately, the salvage yard had a professional-grade frame straightener, a pulling post, chains, clamps, and an anchor pot. That made the whole operation quicker and easier. At times, it was almost relaxing; it kept their minds off anything else. They stuck to shop talk. Although, that wasn't for lack of trying. Every time she opened her mouth to say something to him, she had no words. She had nothing to say that seemed important.

By the fifth day, Mae had enough, with putting up with Dean's mopping around. He didn't need to get better overnight. In her estimation, he didn't even need to talk about his feelings or his father, but he needed to give himself the opportunity to do either. And he needed to take care of himself. She could understand depression and anything else he might be feeling at the moment, but not being so closed off from her. Not if he still wanted to be in whatever type of relationship they were having. It wasn't part of the deal and even if all she got was him yelling at her, she decided it was better than nothing.

After they ate dinner that evening and Dean had returned to the yard to work on the car by the light cascading from the garage, Mae joined him. It was too dark for him to get any real work done. It was too late for him to find something better to do and too early for him to start drinking himself to sleep. Dean sensed her presence before he heard the soft crunch of gravel under her worn boots. He wasn't sure how long she had been there, however.

Having her with him made him feel things he didn't want to feel right then. Hell, she made him feel things period. Had she not been so useful accommodating, he would have thrown her out of the salvage yard. Anytime he thought about, he couldn't form the words. He didn't mean it. He wanted her there, he just wanted it to feel like it did just days before. Everything seemed like it would get better. And then everything was worse. God, she was so damned sweet and accepting. He was pretty sure he could get away with almost anything right now. Only he didn't want to.

The woman didn't say a word as she stepped to him. He was so close to the edge of breaking that even looking at her could break him. She smelled like lavender hand cream that night. Her hand was soft when she cupped his cheek and guided his face to look at her. She looked a little sad, a little more tired. He felt like he was seeing her for the first time in a long time. Her small smile did little to light up her eyes and he hoped it would. He hoped he could look at her and somehow everything would be better. If he were honest with himself, he wanted to find some sort of absolution in having her there, in being with her, and in having someone like her in his life. But it wasn't there.

"I'm about finished up here, for tonight."

To busy himself, he shuffled back slightly as he wiped his dirty hands off on a rag, doing little to get them clean. Mae stopped the busy movement of his hands, tossing the rag to the side and holding his hands in hers. Dean swallowed a lump that formed in his throat as he looked at her pale hands holding his tanner, dirtier ones with a strength and gentleness that shouldn't have surprised him anymore but still did. "Let's go to bed."

He almost didn't hear her, but his eyes drifted over her face. She was so beautiful, with her free-flowing red hair and tender eyes. In almost any other conceivable situation, he would have had her half naked and twisted around him, pressed up against the cold but no longer twisted metal of the car. He wished her could have found more enjoyment in seeing her now, in feeling her touch. But it wasn't there either. "Mae. Baby, listen, don't take offense but… right now, I don't want…sex."

Her brow creased upwards, those dove colored eyes finally lit up closer to normal, grew wide and he swore they could swallow him whole. He'd be wrapped up in her, totally and completely. That pretty mouth made the smallest and most sincere of smile. With that compassionate expression, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles, they seemed clean enough. "While you're impossibly handsome and I am sure girls all around the Midwest would throw their panties at you just for the chance to see you dirty and covered in grease—and don't get me wrong, it's a good look for you— this wasn't a sex offer. I just...miss sleeping with you. So, let's go to bed, okay?"

She tugged at his hands, but he resisted her. "Sleep?"

"Please? We sleep better together, don't we? I want us to get in the same bed, close our eyes, and wake up a couple hours. Sleep. You need to sleep."

It sounded so simple, so perfect and yeah, he did sleep better with her. "Mae… I…"

This woman was striking and sweet and he was certain he didn't know another person on earth who would make him that offer. Those eyes… her hands, it was all too much to keep resisting. He didn't have to fight her this time and if he was totally honest with himself, he didn't want to. He didn't want to be so uncomfortable with this, not with her. This should have been natural because he knew if positions were reversed, he'd offer her the same thing. "No is okay too. I thought...it might be nice."

"Yeah, you're right. It would be nice and... I'm so tired." With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and tightened his grip on her hands a little more. If only things were different, he wished. How he wished that for her and Sammy and even himself. "Mae, this is just…" He didn't know what it was, just that he wasn't feeling normal and he was uncomfortable with her for the first time in a long time despite the fact that she was everything he needed her to be right then. He just let he everything go and rested his head against hers.

If she could take away his pain, she would. If she could give him anything more, she would. She squeezed his hands before letting one go to stroke the side of his face. "Yeah, I know. Let's just get you washed up and go to bed."

She pressed a soft, chaste kiss against his lips. When he opened his eyes, he liked that hers were still closed. Dark shadows were cast under her eyes, ones he might have noticed earlier had he not been avoiding her. She wasn't asking for anything beyond a better night's sleep. This was something he wanted, to be with her, to forget reality for a while. Somehow, she was both an escape and a gentle reminder that there was a world out there.

So, there she was. The other thing he realized, standing out in that junk yard in front of the remains of his most cherished possession, that maybe she needed this too. They hadn't talk about what had transpired since they first came to Bobby's and there was a lot that wouldn't keep. But for now, it was just the two of them. They didn't need to focus on anything else, not for that night anyway. He let her tug at his hand again before the moved to close up the garage and shut off the lights. He let her walk him back inside the house where they both washed their hands. The quiet wasn't so overwhelming when she shared it with him and he let himself enjoy it, at least a little.

He didn't feel like he had done anything to merit being taken care of by anyone, let alone a woman like Mae. He was drying his hands off on the kitchen towel when he got cold feet again, but he couldn't say it to her face, so he turned away. "I should… maybe I should just sleep downstairs."

Dean and Sam had both slept downstairs since they'd taken up temporary residence at Bobby's. He was still sleeping on the floor. Unfazed, she stepped up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle, and kissed his neck. It wasn't a romantic gesture, not entirely. This time, her touch was more comforting. The hum of eroticism still reverberated in his body when she was pressed against him but not enough for him to do much about it. "If you'd rather listen to your brother snore and fart through the night, I'm not going to stop you. But I can offer you a slight upgrade of sharing a bed with me. If you want."

"I really don't deserve any kind of… this."

Her hands pressed against his pectoral as she laid her cheek against his back. "You're wrong. This isn't…you do know that if our life wasn't this one, losing your dad would be hard. So, this was going to be hard for you, all of us really and to pretend any different would be stupid. You don't have to torture yourself because of this. And you're not alone in any of this."

A little moan escaped his lips, followed by a tiny laugh as she held him. He let her hold him just like that until he thought he had imposed on her too long. Freeing himself, he turned to look at her. It made it nearly impossible to stay completely miserable when she stood so close to him with that kind, accepting look on her face. He felt his resolve melt just by looking into her eyes. She cupped the side of his face and smiled sadly at him. "Can I make a suggestion?"

He nodded, letting his eyes drift shut as he relaxed into her touch. "Why don't we just go to bed? I want to hold you. I want you to hold me. Maybe it would get either of us could manage to sleep for more than a few hours in a row, we'd feel a little better physically."

Placing his hand over the one she had placed on his cheek, he ran his fingers over the back of her hand and down her wrist. He couldn't have loved her more at that moment if he tried. Maybe this was a rare good fortune after spending so much time trying to set things right with her. She didn't even care that all he could give her was, well was absolutely nothing. "You don't think that's selfish?"

"Have you ever considered that sometimes you need someone to...take the burden off you? If you start feeling selfish about sleeping in a tiny bed with me, I could extend the offer to everyone in the house." She tilted her head with a sleepy smile, "How does that sound?"

It made him chuckled, just a bit. Her hand squeezed his as she pulled him away from the sink, leading him towards the stairs. "Red, I gotta ask, why have you put up with me the past few days?"

That stopped her and she turned to look over her shoulder at him. Her smile was a genuine one, the kind that reached her eyes. "It's this crazy thing about me where I love you. A lot. C'mon, let's go not have sex."

The pair made their way up the stairs quietly. Following her up to her bedroom had been full of fun titillation and the idea that they were getting away with something. It seemed like something untouchable by the terrible things they saw. He supposed it still felt that way.

Force of habit had them tiptoeing the distance from the stairs to her bedroom. Mae opened the door to the room and Dean was flooded with those ancient memories. It was almost the same. Her furniture hadn't moved or changed. The same posters were still on the walls. The bedspread was still the yellow flowered number she had used all those years ago. The only thing that had changed was that Bobby had used her room to store the overflow of books.

Mae had cleared them out of the way but hadn't taken them out. She could have taken some out Dean realized since he hadn't seen her room in years. It wasn't quite as musty as the rest of the rooms in Bobby's house. She must have washed the linens and had burned a few candles. Her bag, as well as his were in the corner near the closet.

That was where she headed when they got in the room. She tossed his bag to him before turning away from him. Her back was still turned but he took the opportunity to smirk; she had clearly planned this out and was set to take care of him.

Having caught the bag, he set it on the bed. "I forgot how small this bed was."

"You never complained before. And you can always sleep on the floor if you really want."

It wasn't appealing. Since she offered to share a bed with him, the prospect of sleeping on the floor another night was instantly unappealing. "I bet we can still fit."

"Good. Well, I've got all your stuff here. If there's anything else, you need… I'm pretty sure it's all in the same place."

The room had gone quiet until she unzipped her bag. Dean couldn't seem to take to take his eyes off her. When she started to remove her shirt, he wondered if he should have turned away. It wasn't as if hadn't seen her naked. It wasn't as if they hadn't slept together. So, why did he feel like there was something intimate about this that he wasn't supposed to see?

Her frame was lean, rather than just skinny, and well trained. An assortment of fine and artless scars could be found littering her pale flesh and even her now longer red hair tended to be in wavy disarray. Her tattoos were all interesting, arousing. He wanted to know more about them. He found the more he studied her, the more he could find all the little details that stood out and made her worth a second look.

He had been trying to keep his distance and his mind off her. However, watching her move was not helping in the least. The movement of her muscles under the smooth skin of her back enticed him. The tattoo that covered the lower half of her back was hypnotic. This was a magnificent body she had now. It had never been unappealing however now it was simply—he cleared his throat trying to distract himself.

He was actually trying to motivate himself to do something about it. Normally having a half-naked woman in the room with him would have been more than enough. But even for Mae he couldn't muster the right mood…attraction and arousal sure but nothing that he felt comfortable acting on. That disappointment was enough to make him move, unzip his bag and pull out clean boxers and a fresh shirt.

Mae too had changed into a clean shirt and shed her blue jeans. He was barely undressed and there she was in a t-shirt and panties. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah…. I just…" He swallowed hard, "I think something's wrong with me."

She wasn't sure what exactly what he thought was wrong with him because at this point it could have been a long list, but she didn't think either of them should pick him apart. "Dean, nothing is wrong with you. I promise you that. At least not… I mean, not in new ways." Then looking over the man, shirtless and half out of his jeans, she took a stab at what might be bothering him. "And there's no right or wrong reaction to all this. I just want you to know… do you know how long it took me to get comfortable enough to have sex after my husband died? I mean, sex where I was sober? Even longer to consider having sex that meant something. I know it's not the same situation we're in but... you know, there's nothing wrong with how you're feeling. Hell, Sam still hasn't gotten laid, so I guess what I'm telling you is that grief is a powerful thing."

"I wasn't thinking—" sighing, he tossed his bag off the bed, "how do you know what I'm thinking?"

She shrugged. "Well, I've been thinking about it and keep running up against that wall of 'it's too soon' and I…well, sex isn't the most important thing between us, you know? It's…it's good but there's more between us than just sex." Why don't you finish getting ready for bed?"

She let it drop, pulled back the covers on the bed and slid under. She turned her back towards him and left him to his own devices.

"Hey, in case...I know I've been distant and in case that happens again...I just... you're pretty fantastic, you know? And thanks."

"I love you too."

Pulling back the covers, he scooted into bed behind her. The bed was tiny and cramped but he would have slept in a bed half that size if he got to have Mae with him. She smelled intoxicating and he buried his face in her hair. If he had his druthers, he would have done his best to stay right there. It was perfect for him in a strange way. "Why do you smell so damned good?"

"The magic of shampoo I guess."

"Mae… let me just apologize now while I'm feeling … vulnerable."

"Apologize for what, exactly?"

"Everything. Anything. Just…I'm sorry baby."

"Okay, while I don't believe love means never having to say, 'I'm sorry', it just doesn't mean that in this case. There isn't a single thing you've done wrong yet."

"Like you say, give me time."

"For now, let's just go to sleep."

And eventually, he did.

End

A/N-Whew! This one involved more restructuring and rewriting than I had planned but it was fun to go back to a story I had originally written almost a decade ago. There is more in the series. The next story is Give Up the Ghost. However, I don't want to go through the revision if there's isn't some interest in so if you want to see what comes next, leave a review or send me a message!