"Do they know we're coming?" Dean asks as the car rolls to a stop in front of Laine's aunt's house in her hometown of Blair, Nebraska. Draping her arms across the top of the front seat, Laine flashes Dean a quizzical look.

"I wanted it to be a surprise. It's been a while." She shrugs and casts her eyes out the window for a moment, taking in the sight of her childhood home, before looking back to Dean. "It's not as if they don't like you, so what's the big deal?"

Zach nods his head in agreement from his spot in the passenger seat. "She's right, so stop being such a baby and let's go."

A look of mock hurt crosses Dean's face, his mouth opening and closing soon after as words escape him.

"I just don't like dropping in out of nowhere – and I am not being a baby," he huffs and shoots a glare towards Zach and Laine before turning to look out the window. Laine lets out a laugh at his behaviour and opens the car door.

"Whatever you say... baby." With a soft pat on Dean's shoulder, she climbs out of the vehicle and walks around it to stand next to Zach, her gaze once again travelling to the house before them.

It hasn't changed much since she last visited three years ago; the cream panelling still has the dent near the window where a baseball hit when she was sixteen, the wood fences are chipped and in desperate need of a new coat of paint, and the door is still the same shade of matte black. Smiling up at it, Laine loops her arm through Zach's and pulls him with her up the walkway, up the stairs onto the porch, and to a stop in front of the door.

Looking back over her shoulder, she notes Dean is still sitting in the car, a grumpy look on his face as he stares out at Zach and her. Mouthing the word 'baby', a barely noticeable smirk forms on her lips as Dean's eyes narrow, and seconds later, he is climbing out of the car with a huff.

Laine manages to hold in her laughter at her victory by biting down on her lip and turns around. Only does she let out the breaths of mirth when Dean stomps to a stop next to them and shoves her lightly on the shoulder before he rings the doorbell.

They stand there waiting for someone to answer the door. Her nerves begin to go haywire in anticipation, tight little bundles of knots forming in her gut at the notion of finally seeing her family again after being away for so long. A few moments later, the sound of footsteps pounding on the floor can be heard from the other side of the door and the lock turning follows, turning the knots in Laine's stomach into painful twists.

The door opens at what feels like an agonizing pace to reveal her uncle standing on the other side, clad in Batman pyjama pants and a head full of messy brown hair. At first, he runs a hand through the tangle of hair on his head and simply stares at them with sleep-filled eyes before recognition starts to dawn on him, his hand stilling against his scalp.

"Laine."

One corner of her mouth turns up in a small, nervous grin. "Hey, Uncle."

The grin encompasses Laine's face as she is swept into a bone-crushing hug, and she wraps her arms around his torso. Burying her face into his neck, she relishes in the familiarity of his embrace. Oh, how she missed this.

"You're aunts are gonna go ballistic." He grins and releases her, motioning for them to come inside the house. Zach and Dean follow her in and the door is shut behind them, a wide grin still present on her uncle's face. He turns to the two men standing beside her and sends them both a smile, albeit less exuberant in intensity than the one he gave his niece. "It's good to see you boys again."

They exchange greetings and her uncle holds out a hand to each of them, tugging them into brief embraces when they clasp hands.

"Charlie, who's here?" The sweet voice of her aunt Lena floats down the hall, and moments later, her head of ash blonde hair pokes out of the kitchen entryway.

Her eyes widen at the sight of the three guests in her house, a bright smile overtaking her petite face right before she comes barreling down the halls towards them with open arms. She sweeps Laine into a tight hug and spins her around, only pausing in her giggling and twirling to stop and inspect her niece for damage.

"My baby girl! It's so good to see you," Lena chirps and pecks Laine on the cheek before proceeding to once again squeeze the life out of the younger woman.

"Hi, Auntie," Laine replies after she is released from her aunt's deadly embrace, now able to return air to her lungs. She receives one more, good squeeze of her shoulders before the attention is shifted away from her and towards Zach and Dean, who up until now, had remained out of sight.

"Come on, give your aunt some love." Lena motions them forward, her arms open and waiting.

An ear-splitting grin overtakes Dean's face – he always has had a soft spot for Laine's aunts – and wastes no time in returning the hug offered to him. Zach looks a little reluctant to have unnecessary human contact, but steps forward regardless. Lena's arms attempt to envelop them both in her embrace and her petite body becomes engulfed between the two mountains that are Zach and Dean Harrison.

"You boys sure have filled out nicely." She laughs and pats the boys on their arms and stomachs. Zach lets out a nervous laugh in response and Dean's grin widens, his eyes taking a moment to sweep over Lena in appreciation.

"You're not looking too bad yourself, Lena."

"Still a charmer." Lena looks over at Laine and nods her head in Dean's direction, a soft laugh escaping her.

"He never did outgrow that bit." Laine shrugs and laughs when her statement earns her a huff from Dean, and even her uncle joins in on the jesting.

"How rude of me! Please, come in. We're just finishing up lunch. Have you three ate yet?" Her aunt grabs Laine by the arm and leads them down the hallway, making sure to ask plenty of questions about anything and everything along the way to the kitchen.

**********

The remainder of the day passes by without incident, the hours filled with the six of them lounging around in the sitting room and catching up, trading stories and laughing about absolutely mundane things. It is a welcome relief for all of them to have the opportunity to sit down and just talk with the people they care about, and in all honesty, it is a gift in itself to be able to do this after the last few days Laine has had. Dinner times rolls around and they stuff themselves full of her aunt's delicious homemade chicken parmigiana before everyone heads their separate ways to turn in for the night.

"You three have a good sleep, you hear? God knows you deserve it after the couple of days you've had." Lena shakes her head and pecks Laine on the cheek in farewell.

"We will, and thanks again for letting us spend the night here," Zach replies, sending her a sincerely grateful smile as he hikes his duffel bag back up onto his shoulder.

"You're family – it's really no problem. Night, then." She returns the smile and takes her leave, disappearing into the bedroom she shares with Laine's biological aunt, Evelyn.

Zach and Dean trail after Laine as she heads down to the basement where her bedroom and the guest rooms are located. They bid each other goodnight and then head into their separate rooms, silence cascading down on the household.

After changing into a baggy t-shirt and throwing her mess of curls into a loose bun, Laine crawls under the covers and closes her eyes, willing sleep to come.

It doesn't.

Throwing back the covers, she stares up at the shadowed ceiling, hands clasped over her stomach. She closes her eyes and tries again, only finding herself more awake than she was before.

With a frustrated sigh, Laine shuffles out of bed and pads over to the door, opening it. She walks a few steps down the hall across the cold laminate floor before noticing that someone is sitting at the parlour in the far corner of the room, their back facing her. Crossing the entertainment area, she takes residence in the stool next to Dean and accepts the bottle of rum that is pushed towards her. She lifts the bottle to her lips and takes a long swig of the beverage before passing it back.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" Laine mumbles, licking away a stray droplet of alcohol from the corner of her lips.

"Nope," Dean replies around the mouth of the bottle, draining a good portion of the contents when he takes a drink. They sit there for a good while not saying a thing, just passing the bottle back and forth multiple times until it is close to empty – not that there was much to begin with. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Shoot."

Dean inhales and places the bottle down on the granite countertop, turning halfway in his chair so he is partially facing her, his eyes tinged with a glassy sheen from the alcohol coursing through his system. "Why did Jamie get us to come pick you up? You said you pissed of a group and that they sent in a rat, but I figure there's more to all of it if you needed backup."

"Like I said, I pissed of a group of Cambions and they sent someone to get close to me. He changed his mind and tried to take me out."

"How long have you been dealing with them, anyway?"

"I first ran into them when Abbi–" The name has barely left Laine's mouth when a sharp pang shoots through her chest and emotions flood her, memories of that night surfacing from the dark corner in her mind where she tries to bury them. Shaking her head, she brushes off the thoughts best she can and pushes through. "What were you told about Abigail's death?"

Dean's face falls at the mention of her late cousin, but he quickly wipes off the expression and glances away. "Jamie told us that you two got jumped by a mugger, and that you were knocked unconscious and she was killed trying to protect you from him."

Laine can't stop the humourless chuckle that jumps out of her throat at his words – it's no surprise that's what they were told. No one was supposed to know that she had killed her first demon that night trying to save her cousin, and up until now, it seems that they had been unaware of the true happenings of that horrible night.

"It wasn't a mugger. It was a fucking demon. Turned out that he was after me and he used Abigail to lure me out. He fucking gutted her and left her on the ground to bleed out." Laine pauses and draws in a sharp breath as she presses her palms against her eyes to stop the angry tears that want to build there. "We were having a camp out in the backyard, the two of us, and Abbie went in to use the bathroom and I didn't think anything of it when she was gone a tad longer than normal. Thought she'd just stopped to get some snacks or a drink before coming back. Didn't realize something was wrong until I heard her scream a few minutes later."

She is once again sucked back to that memory, and Laine can't count how many times she has relived that night over and over in her dreams. Nothing ever changes, though; no matter how many times she pleads with her younger self to stop her cousin from leaving the tent, the results are always the same. She can still smell the blood as she walks around the side of the house, still sees the agonizing look on her baby cousin's face from where she lies on the ground, hands clutched to her stomach as blood seeps out of her and coats the ground in crimson.

She still sees the fucking bastard who did it standing above her, fingers dripping with blood and a taunting grin on his face as he stares her down, urging her to make a move against him.

"I froze when I saw her laying there, all battered and broken on the lawn. I couldn't do a thing, it was like my body wasn't my own. It wasn't until the bastard started talking and walking closer to me that I snapped out of it."

Dean's eyes are on her the entire time she speaks, and under normal circumstances the staring would bother Laine, but right now, she couldn't care less. The memories of that night have overtaken her mind and all she can see is red – the blood, the colour of his eyes, the colour that clouded her vision, the colour of the magic as it spread up her arms.

"What... what did you do?"

"I was twelve, Dean. Not much I could do, considering I just started my combat training, but for some reason, I had this fucking absurd idea creep into my head at that moment. I knew better than to do it, was trained not to do that kind of thing as it makes it easier for those pricks to get inside of us, but I had no other options. So, I turned and ran into the garage. Of course, the demon followed me, but I gave myself just enough of a head start to grab a nail from the toolbox and make a sigil. I had no clue what I was doing, no clue if it would work or not, but I had to do something."

Laine is still able to feel the tingle of dark energy travel up her arm and overload her system when she thinks about that night, can recall the exact moment power surged through her veins and how invincible it made her feel. She takes another deep breath and reaches for the bottle of rum again, using it as an excuse to gather her thoughts and have a moment to not speak. When she sets it back down, she spares one glance over at Dean with hard eyes, but he undoubtedly is able to see behind her façade for his expression falters again.

"I sent that dick back to Hell so fucking fast, not giving a damn as to what the consequences of using blood magic would be, and then he was gone. I was alone, blood dripping down my arm and on the wall of the garage with my cousin sitting outside dying. I couldn't move for a moment, the shock had finally set in my body, but after a minute, it all came crashing down around me. My aunts must of heard my screams as I raced back to Abbie, cause they were out there in the next instant to see what had become of their daughter. All because some fucking demon wanted me."

"What did that demon have to do with Cambions?" Laine can see that it pains Dean to ask such an insensitive question after she just spilled her guts to him, but he personally understands the need for space and distraction after doing such a thing.

"Turns out that the demon was some high power in a group of Cambions. Apparently, they don't take killings of their leaders lightly," she says as she traces an indent in the counter top, probably made by a dropped bottle.

"I'm guessing that wasn't the last you saw of them."

Laine shakes her head and rests her palm against the cool granite. "They came after me a couple years later, right after I returned from Scotland, and then again before I entered college. It was all good until the whole Ryan incident happened. They sent some more Cambions to come see what happened to their rogue mole and the demon they sent, but I was long gone before they got there, yet they never stopped searching for me. Had to move again a couple years later when they caught wind of me, and it's been a bitch and a half to stay hidden from them, but it's worked out somewhat. They started popping up around Holland the past couple weeks, and I called Jamie at the first sight of them so I could get the Hell out of there."

Dean is quiet for a moment before he lets out a soft noise, his eyes trained on the racks of wine, port, and hard alcohols that line the wall of the bar. "What did that demon want with you in the first place that he needed to use Abbie as a lure?"

"Beats me. The guy that stabbed me yesterday said that they've had their eyes on me for nearly my whole life, so why they appeared on that night and not before is beyond me. Unless they did and I was too little to remember." Her words trail off near the end, becoming quieter and more forced as a wave of memories regarding Abigail and running away fill her mind. Memories of Ryan manage to slip into the fray, causing her more unnecessary grief.

Laine is snapped out of her reverie by the bottle being pushed into her grasp once again. She can't help it when her hand wraps around the base of it and clutches tightly.

"Do you miss him?"

The sad laugh that crawls up her throat is uncontrollable as she raises the bottle to her lips, and she uses it as an excuse to prolong the inevitable of talking. She could tell Dean to drop it and not talk to him about her ex, but for some reason, she feels a deep need to tell him about Ryan – to tell someone about the man who she nearly fell in love with.

Setting the bottle back down, Laine clasps her hands in front of her and stares dead ahead, letting images of their time together overcome her mind's eye.

"He was an amazing guy, and a lot like Zach in terms of smarts. He was studying to become a psychologist and was working towards getting his masters. He liked to try and read me using the methods he learned in class, but it never worked, though. He said he could never get a good read on me, that I was one big mystery to him." She takes a deep, slow breath and brushes away the pressure building in her throat and behind her eyes. Dean mutters something that she can't decipher, but she ignores his silent comment and continues on. "He loved to help others and was always looking for opportunities to travel. He talked about taking a trip to South Africa or less fortunate countries to help the people there. We would go out for walks or to dinner, or just stay at the apartment and watch T.V. or play video games. How someone like him got in with the demons, I'll never know, but..."

"How did you two meet?"

Laine feels his eyes on her again, burning against her skin with such an intensity that she feels hot just from the simple gesture.

"I frequently went to a gun range, just to keep my shot perfect. One day, this guy shows up. He looked like your typical rich kid who thinks they're top shit, with their clean pressed button-ups, black slacks, and perfect appearance. I had never seen him there before and didn't think much of it. He was stationed next to me and tried to make conversation, and you know me. When I have a gun in my hand, there's no point in Hell trying to talk to me. He kept trying, though, and I kept ignoring. I hadn't fired a single shot since he got there, so he hadn't seen me shoot. He told me that if I could hit the mark spot on, he would quit trying to talk to me."

"You got the shot." Dean phrases it more as a statement, no doubt in his voice as to whether or not she hit the target. She lets out a laugh and shrugs, lifting her eyes again for a quick glance in Dean's direction.

"Damn right I did. Put him in his place, too. He was so dumbstruck that his jaw was practically on the floor. True to his word, he didn't bother me for the rest of the time I was there, and even when I left, he didn't say boo. A few days later, he showed up again and before I left that day, he asked if I wanted to grab coffee. I don't know why he didn't ask me on the first day, since he clearly wanted to."

Dean chuckles at her statement, and the corner of his mouth quirks upwards, eyes alight with humour. "If I saw a chick shoot like you do, I'd be pretty intimidated to ask her out, too. Turned on, but intimidated."

"You don't seem too put off with chatting me up, and you personally know how good my aim is," Laine points out and turns in her chair to face him, one arm resting on the counter top.

"I know you won't shoot me," he states and she raises her eyebrow at this, causing him to laugh and shake his head. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah." They lapse back into silence and for a moment, she starts to think the conversation has dropped, but Dean picks it back up again, his voice much softer this time and barely audible even with the quietness of the area.

"Did you love him?"

The question is odd coming from Dean, and Laine nearly doesn't say anything, but the idea of telling someone about her feelings for once in her life appeals to her in a way it never has before. A sad smile forms on her lips as her mind travels back to memories of her ex.

"I think I was starting to. Not in the way I love you or Zach, but in a way that I can, even with the life I lead. You know how hard it is for me to get close to someone, so when I realized I had stronger feelings for him, I almost ran. Thing is, I'm not sure how much of what we had was real." She pauses and considers stopping there, knowing that if she continues talking about him she will end up thinking about everything – everything she has tried to forget.

It had taken years to stop the nightmares, and even longer to stop hearing his voice in her head. Laine had done it, though; built up her walls and buried his memory deep within her conscious, but he still lingers there. A presence forever ingrained in who she is.

"You know what's funny, though? When he pointed a gun at my head that night and told me why he was there, that he was protecting me from them by killing me, I couldn't put my feelings away. I tried to rationalize, but my heart wouldn't shut up. If it hadn't of been for the other guy in the apartment threatening to drag him to Hell if he killed me, I don't think I would have been able to stop him. I just... I'm conditioned to bury my emotions in life or death situations, and I tried, I did, but I guess I just froze."

As her words trail off, Dean's hand brushes against hers on the counter top, slipping over hers and encasing it gently when she doesn't pull away. He squeezes once, easy and in a completely familial way, and she feels the pity radiating off of him. A broken chuckle escapes Laine's lips and she shakes her head, slipping her hand out from under his.

"I used to stay up at night wondering what would've happened if the other guy hadn't of shown up, if Ryan had had the opportunity to pull the trigger."

"Laine..." Dean turns in his chair and faces her full on with a strained look on his face. Upon seeing the tightness to his features, her resolve begins to crumble and the cracks in her already shattering wall grow larger.

"Let's just drop it, okay? No point in–" Laine is unable to finish her sentence for Dean is interrupting her with a powerful stare, green eyes glowing even in the darkness of the room.

"No. You don't get to talk like that, got it? I almost lost you yesterday, so don't you dare contemplate what if's and shit like that. I don't got a whole lot of family left and our lives are short enough as is, so you better be damn grateful you're still standing here. Ryan made his choice and you made yours, and you're the one still alive. Don't throw that away by thinking about what could have been, okay?" His voice tapers off near the end and his gaze flicks away from her, his jaw tensing.

Laine wants to argue and say something to defend herself, but all her words dry up in her throat due to knowing that he's right.

"I know, but still..." She trails off, her hands fluttering around in front of her in an attempt to find the right words to express what she wants to say, but she comes up blank and drops them into her lap. Dean sends her a barely-there sad smile with downcast eyes and stands up, brushing off her failed response and ending their conversation with finality.

"You should probably get some sleep. We're hoping to leave first thing tomorrow," he says, sliding the mostly empty bottle over towards her. He doesn't say another word as he makes his way towards the room he is staying in just down the hall.

"Okay, night." Laine watches Dean with half-lidded eyes as sleep begins to gnaw at her mind, and she glances down at the remaining rum.

When she looks back over to Dean, he has stopped in front of his door and appears to be hesitating as his eyes dart between the door and her. She faintly hears him mutter something along the lines of "Fuck it," under his breath before he walks back over to her and pulls her into his arms.

Laine wraps her arms around his waist and holds him as close to her as she can manage, and an instant rush of warmth and comfort floods through her at the contact. His hold is strong around her shoulders, one hand resting on the back of her head, and her cheek presses against the crook of his neck. They remain held in each other's embraces for a few brief moments until Dean steps back, his hand sliding down to the side of her cheek.

The edge of his mouth twitches as he leans forward and presses his lips against her forehead, the touch light and barely grazing her flushed skin.

"Night," Dean murmurs when he pulls away. He turns and heads into his room for the night, the door shutting with a soft click as he disappears within.

A tiny grin forms on Laine's face as she touches the spot where his lips just were, the heat in her cheeks spreading across her entire face and down her neck. Standing up from the bar stool, she shuffles back into her room and closes the door behind her, the smile never leaving her lips.

**********

Even though her mind is still buzzing with the effects of rum, something that usually puts her to sleep quite fast, Laine is unable to shut her mind off long enough to fall into the blissful state of unconsciousness. Due to not being able to sleep, she finds herself sitting on the floor in her Mum's old room. A photo album sits in her lap, brimming with pictures of Jamie, Evelyn, and her mother from when they were younger.

Laine closes the album, having gone through it from front to back, and sets it on the bed. She goes to stand up, but something peeking out from behind the tower of books and boxes in the closet catches her eye.

Curiosity gets the better of her and she crawls over to the open closet, moving around the boxes to get at whatever is nestled behind them. She pulls the sealed box out and places in front of her crossed legs, yanking the flaps apart to reveal over a dozen pictures, some books, and a couple other knick-knacks and trinkets stashed within. Lifting out the object at the top, Laine inspects the black book with silver writing across it.

"Exorcismos, incantamenta, et Sanctum sanctorum." The words roll off her tongue as easily as when she speaks English or Gaelic. Laine traces her fingers over the silver text embroidered on the spine, interest piqued. Placing the book down beside her, she reaches into the box and pulls out the next item she touches.

The silver dagger is cool in her hand, still in pristine condition, and she admires the intricate engravings on the blade and on the butt of the hilt. The sigils represent the old Enochian runes for protection, banishment, and purification, and Laine realizes that this must have been her mother's demon-killing dagger. Flipping the dagger over, she stares at her family's clan symbol etched on the butt, the engraving filled with red dye.

After she sets the blade down and begins to reach for the box once again, the door of the bedroom opens and in walks her aunt.

Evelyn closes the door behind her as quiet as possible and shuffles over to where Laine is sitting and takes a seat next to her, legs crossed Indian style. Her gaze roams over the book, the dagger, and the box before she looks over to her niece. "What're you looking at?"

"Just some stuff I found in the closet. It's full of Mum's stuff," Laine answers as she removes another item from the box.

This time, it is a silver picture frame. When she wipes away the dust that has gathered on it, her mouth falls open as she takes in the image before her. Evelyn leans over and peers at the picture in Laine's hands, a sad smile forming on her thin lips.

"Your mother, before you were born," Evelyn states, her gaze still glued to the faded picture, as is Laine's.

Laine traces her finger over the outline of her mother's body, forever captured in this photo, as vague second-hand memories filter through her head. She is about to ask her aunt something about her mother when she realizes there is someone standing behind her mother, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Who's that?" She taps her finger against the picture frame and cranes her head to look at Evelyn. Her aunt hesitates for a moment and takes the picture out of Laine's hands, her gaze not straying from the age-worn image.

"That's... he..." Evelyn starts to speak, but her voice falters. Laine watches a single tear rolls down her aunt's cheek, landing on the dusty glass.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't need to tell me." Laine scoots closer and places her hand on her aunt's wrist, earning herself a light laugh from the older woman as she shakes her head of dark curls.

"No, you deserve to know. It's only fair. Don't know why I didn't tell you sooner." Evelyn's accent is thick as she wipes at her eyes and sets the picture down on the floor. She looks over at Laine briefly before reaching towards the box and pulling it in front of her. A few moments later, she ceases rummaging and hands a thick stack of photos and a leather bound book to the younger woman.

Laine accepts them both and places the book down in her lap as she begins shuffling through the stack of photos. She quickly comes to notice that one element remains constant in all the photos; the mystery man was always by her mother's side. There are only two pictures he is not present in – one of her mother holding her as a baby swaddled in a purple blanket, and one of her sleeping in a crib with a teddy bear clutched tightly in her small fist. Evelyn must sense the question bubbling inside of her, for she answers before Laine has even opened her mouth to speak.

"His name was Gabriel. He and your mother were madly in love, and nothing could separate the two of them, not even the Gods above. He made your mother so happy and she did the same for him. The love they shared was truly something," she murmurs, her eyes glazing over as tears begin to gather.

The words run on repeat through Laine's head, one word sticking out amongst the rest. "Was?"

"He died in a car accident a few months after you were born. Your mother was heartbroken and left to raise you on her own," Evelyn explains solemnly, a pained expression on her face. She shakes her head as if to clear away any bad memories still lingering in her mind.

"This Gabriel... was he..." Laine trails off, not knowing quite exactly how to formulate her question into words even though the question itself is as simple as can be. Her aunt seems to understand what she is eluding to for Evelyn flashes a gentle smile and places her hand on Laine's knee.

"Was he your father, you mean?"

Laine replies with a nod, staring over at her aunt with waiting eyes.

"Aye, he was."

When she was growing up, no one ever brought up her mother in conversation – let alone her father – and she stopped trying to press for answers after years of being shut down. Laine had always thought that by the way her family avoiding bringing him up, it meant he had abandoned her mother and her, but this revelation seems the more logical answer to her questions. She wants to ask her aunt more about him and her mother, to learn all she can after years of being denied pivotal information, but Evelyn wipes a hand under her eyes and sends Laine a tight, small smile.

"I should probably let you get some sleep. Take a look at that journal if you get the chance. Goodnight, leannan." Evelyn stands and places a tender kiss on top of Laine's head before exiting the room.

The door shuts with a soft click, leaving Laine alone with her thoughts and the belongings of her deceased mother.

Instead of heading back to her room to get some sleep like she knows she should, Laine remains situated on the floor looking through the remaining contents of the box. It isn't until the sun starts to rise, the rays peeking through the blinds, does she move.

The last thing Laine does before she crawls under the covers of her bed is glance briefly through the journal. The pages are brimming with information about the supernatural world, various spells and incantations, a few bible verses that she skims past, and an abundance of other info tidbits. There are even a few entries regarding people her mother had met or hunted with, but nothing noteworthy about her father or anything about her personal life.

Even after reading it front to back and back to front, Laine realizes she isn't going to find out anything specific about the woman who raised her for two years within the old pages.

Closing the journal, she lays it down on the nightstand next to the bed and rolls over to stare up at the window, watching as more slivers of light slips through the curtains to bask the room in a subtle glow. She shuts her eyes and wills herself to sleep, knowing that she needs at least a couple hours to function decently.

Thankfully, this time Laine falls asleep, her dreams filled with thoughts and images of her mother and father and what could have been but never will be.

**********

It is a quarter past eleven when they finally begin saying their farewells. They would have left much earlier, but Laine ended up sleeping until about nine and Lena had insisted on making them a five course brunch.

"I wish you could stay longer," Lena gushes and pulls each of them into a tight hug one at a time. "But I know you can't, so hopefully, we will we see you again soon."

"Of course, Auntie." Laine returns the hug she is swept into, disappointed that they must leave so soon, but she knows Jamie is probably getting tired of waiting for them to show up.

Zach and Dean finish shaking hands with her uncle and soon after, they are walking down the hallway and out the door. Before they can make it down the walk, Evelyn comes racing down the stairs and out onto the porch with two books and a wrapped item in her hands.

"I found this in another box of your mum's stuff, and here's her journal and something else. You'll put them to good use, and she would have wanted you to have these," Evelyn says and hands Laine the objects.

Running her hands over the gold embroidery on the red book, Laine realizes that it is a bible.

"Thank you." She whispers as she returns the hug offered to her. After a few seconds, they part and her aunt is smiling with moisture gathering in her eyes.

"It's been good seeing you, leannan."

"You too, Auntie." Laine grins back before she chases after the boys, sliding into the back seat of the Caprice alongside her bags. With a final wave in the direction of the house, they are pulling onto the road.