"Where the Hell is this place?" Dean grumbles, irritation mingling with his words, as they fly down the vacant dirt road.

Zach groans and runs a hand through his dark hair, his patience with his brother steadily draining away due to his constant complaining. "Jamie said to head straight out of town on 63rd street until we come to a dirt road marked by a red sign, about ten minutes out and then–"

"Just hand me the damn map, tour guide." Dean snatches the map out of Zach's hands, cutting off his brother before he can open his mouth again.

Annoyed at having to juggle looking between the road and the map, Dean swerves over onto the shoulder of the road and parks the car, shifting all of his attention to reading the map. He finds the red pen mark they had made this morning and follows its trail down to the red circle which marks where they are supposed to end up at.

Nodding, Dean tosses the map back over to Zach once he has committed the image to memory, and pulls onto the road.

"Is this just a plan of Jamie's to get rid of us, or are we actually picking someone up? 'Cause it sure seems like he's blowing smoke up our asses with this one," Dean mutters after taking another turn down an empty strip of road.

"You're hilarious," Zach retorts, knowing full-well that Dean is just playing around and doesn't actually mean his words.

"I am the one who got the humour gene in this family."

Zach lets out a humourless snort and flashes Dean a sass-filled look.

"Dean, you're the least funny person I know," he states with a raised eyebrow before going back to his phone, finger scrolling across the screen and tapping occasionally.

"Ass," Dean says under his breath, not meaning the word in the slightest, and lets Zach's comment slide, ending the conversation. The remainder of the car ride is filled with silence, except for the occasional reminder from Zach on where to turn, even though Dean already knows.

After another fifteen minutes of driving, the two men finally reach their destination. At least, they should be at their destination, but from the looks of it, there isn't a house around for miles. Stopping the car, the two climb out and look around in confusion.

"Where's the house? There should be a road right there," Dean exclaims, pointing towards the tree line. According to the map, there should be a road in that spot, but there isn't. His eyes flit around in an attempt to find something to signify that they are in the right place, but all he can see are trees, trees, and more trees.

"Let me call Jamie," Zach states, pulling his phone out.

"Yeah, you do that," Dean mumbles, mind still reeling with confusion. None of this makes any sense, whatsoever. He looks back over to his brother and sees him with the cell phone pressed to his ear, waiting for Jamie to pick up.

"Hey, Jamie," Zach greets when the older man finally picks up. "No, we're not lost, we just can't find the house... Trees? Yeah, there's lot of them... Behind us? Okay."

Zach turns around with a confused expression on his face, head cocking to the side as he listens. "Okay... yeah, got it. Thanks, Jamie."

"What did he say?" Dean questions once Zach ends the call, watching with more confusion as his brother walks towards the tree line. "Dude, what are you doing?"

Zach waves his hand in Dean's direction, signaling for him to wait a moment and not ask questions. With a sigh, Dean leans against the body of the car, waiting for his brother to get back so they can find this damn place. Zach reaches a hand in between the overgrown bushes that have spread between the trees and feels around for a moment before he starts pulling back, and to Dean's surprise, the bush moves with him.

With a few good tugs, the bushes are slid back to reveal a road, previously blocked by the nature-covered gates. After pushing the gates out of the way, Zach stands off to the side and motions for Dean to drive through the opening.

"Awesome," Dean whispers in awe as he climbs back into the car, driving through the gate before Zach closes it shut behind him. Looking ahead of him, he can see a long stretch of gravel road leading up to a decent sized, two story house with white paneling and a dark roof, many windows running along the front of the house, a large porch in front of the double doors, an attached garage, and a sizable shed not too far away from the house.

"You gotta admit, this chick has some serious skills." Zach's lips twitch up in an appreciative grin as he slides into the passenger seat, a small sparkle of wonder in his eyes.

"Who is she, anyway? What did Jamie say her name was?" Dean questions, sparing a glance at his brother.

"I don't think he gave us a name, come to think of it." A look of contemplation crosses Zach's face, then it disappears and he shakes his head. "Do you think it's the woman he only ever talks on the phone with? The one who always seems to have pissed someone off?"

Dean shrugs with a muttered 'maybe' and pushes on the gas pedal, sending the vehicle flying down the road and leaving dust clouds in their wake.

**********

The water scalds against her skin, tiny drops pelting across the pale expanse of her body, but she doesn't mind the blistering warmth, instead relishing in the relaxation it brings to her buzzing mind. A knot forms in her stomach as the minutes tick by until her escorts arrive to take her home, anticipation and anxiety twisting through her nerves like vines.

Images of Dean still flash through her mind, and although he hadn't recognized her the night before, it doesn't stop Laine from replaying old memories and experiences she shared with him and his brother as they grew up.

With a deep breath, Laine pushes all thoughts of him out of her head and focuses on running her fingers through her hair to wash out the remaining conditioner.

She turns off the water and steps out of the warm space, cold air hitting her bare body as she reaches for fluffy towels to wrap around her hair and frame. She wastes no time in securing the towel before she exits the bathroom and makes her way into the adjacent walk-in closet to find a suitable outfit for the day, soon settling on a pair of black jeans and a black scoop neck tee.

As Laine is running her fingers through her hair to loosen the tangle of vibrant curls, the sound of gravel crunching under tires floats through the open window of her room, barely audible over the music streaming from her stereo. She taps the pause button and heads over to the window, peeking past the half-open curtains to see a sleek black Chevy Caprice roll to a stop in front of her house.

After a second, two men climb out of the vehicle and walk towards the front door. Not a moment later, the chime of the doorbell rings through the house.

"Come in," Laine calls out, making her voice loud enough to be heard, and the door opens.

Quiet chatter fills the house as the two step inside, and she steps towards her door, peeking around the corner and down the staircase. Her eyes land on the two men, both tall as towers and standing cautiously, their gazes sweeping around the entryway.

Laine takes a deep breath to steady herself and pushes the feelings of apprehension away, eyes closing, before she exits her room and starts down the stairs. The walk seems never ending and each step feels as if it requires all her energy to move her feet, but soon enough, she stands at the bottom of the stairs with two pairs of eyes glued to her.

"Hey, guys," she greets, a small smile creeping onto her face. Her gaze flits between the two of them, taking in their identical slack-jawed expressions, and just for a moment, Dean catches her eyes before she looks away and over to his brother. Zach's face is glowing with happiness and recognition as he takes her in, hands flexing at his sides and the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Laine?" The word is simple and barely reaches her ears, but his eyes are wide and lighting up like a child's on Christmas morning.

Laine nods once, and before she can get a word out, Zach is pulling her towards him and into his arms, crushing her petite frame in a tight embrace.

"Can't breathe, Zach," she chokes out, but hugs him back regardless and with just as much force.

Zach laughs sheepishly and gives her one more squeeze before releasing his hold on her.

He shakes his head in disbelief. His eyes roam over her in a completely familiar way as if to check her over for injuries or changes, and a bright smile soon graces his features. "I can't believe it's you. It's been so long."

"Almost six years." Sadness overcomes Laine as she realizes just how long it has been since they last saw each other. Instead of lingering, she shakes it off and looks to Dean, who has yet to say anything. "Are you just gonna stand there and not say a thing? Can I at least get a hug?"

He hesitates for a moment, a tight expression on his face, before he steps forward and tugs her into his arms, embracing her in the exact same way he used to – arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, holding on as if he will never let her go, and chin resting on top of her head.

Laine curls her arms around his torso, face buried against his chest, as she inhales the familiar scent of whiskey and car leather that is completely Dean.

"Your hair's all wet," Dean groans as he releases her, his hand lingering a second longer on her arm and squeezing gently before he drops it to his side.

"I was just in the shower, what do you expect?" She laughs and shakes her head as she closes the door behind them. "You guys hungry?"

**********

Laine stands in front of the stove, a pot of noodles cooking in front of her, when Dean enters the kitchen, taking up residence against the counter to her left. She glances towards him before lifting a noodle out of the pot to inspect it for doneness, dropping it back into the boiling water soon after. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Dean cross his arms over his chest, a tight look on his face. Instead of asking him what is wrong, she stands there quietly, knowing he will eventually say what's on his mind.

"Why Cory?" His comment surprises her, but she brushes it off and shrugs, focusing back on stirring the noodles. "Laine suits you much better."

"It's who I am around here. Corinne Hughes from Washington, DC, fresh out of college with a film degree and looking for a new start," Laine recites, the history of her alias rolling off her tongue like it were her own and not the life story of a woman created to blend in.

Dean makes an acknowledging noise and nods, looking anywhere but at her. "Should've figured. Your last one was Caroline Danvers."

"No, my last one was Lorne Shepard. Caroline was before that and I absolutely hated her story." They both laugh at that, and she can't help it when memories flash through her mind of the nights they would stay up late creating pretend alias' for hunts they wished to go on.

Shaking her head to bat away the images, Laine tosses Dean a curious look.

"When did you make the connection? I knew it was you the second you sat at my bar," she says, fighting the grin that wants to be present on her face right now instead of the serious expression.

If Laine is being honest with herself, last night had been interesting, to say the least, but maybe it had been for the better that Dean hadn't recognized her.

"Can you really blame me, though? You've changed a lot since I last saw you," he says with a slow roam of his eyes over her, gaze flicking back up to meet hers as he reaches out to grasp a lock of curly red hair between his fingers. "And when you cover this up, it makes it a bit harder to tell it's you."

A laugh escapes Laine at his comment and she brushes his hand away. Ducking her head so her hair covers the sides of her face, she checks the pasta again.

"That's the only thing you remember about me? My hair? Great friend you are." She flashes Dean a disbelieving look to which he responds with a chuckle, a shrug following.

"With hair like yours, you stand out in a crowd. Makes it easier to find you, but when you cover it... not so much. Not saying I didn't like the way you looked last night, but this is much nicer," he says with a nod towards her.

Laine can't tell if he means just her hair or all of her, but either way it brings a blush to her face.

Her blush quickly subsides, cheeks returning back to their normal pale shade. She opens her mouth to say something in response, but a clearing of a throat has them both looking towards the kitchen entrance. Zach stands there, hands stuffed in his pockets and a level expression on his face as he glances between the two and the stove.

"Food ready yet?"

"Yup, just straining it," Laine states with a grin thrown back towards the younger brother, thankful for his interruption of their conversation. She wastes no time in draining the liquid from the pot and then dishing out three helpings of pasta, passing each of the men a fork along with a bowl.

The three of them head into the adjacent living room, with Dean and Zach taking up residence on the L-shaped leather couch and Laine sprawling on the loveseat, bowls of piping hot food in their hands. No one speaks for a while, all absorbed in the task of shovelling the meal into their mouths, but soon the sounds of slurping and chewing become too much for her to handle.

"So, did you guys know who you were picking up, or were you in the dark?" Laine questions before plopping another forkful of noodles into her mouth.

Zach shakes his head, finishing his mouthful before speaking. "Jamie didn't tell us a thing, besides saying where to go and when to do it. Should've figured it had something to do with you if he wasn't letting us in on any info."

She knows the exact reason why Jamie didn't tell them who they were coming to get, but instead of informing them of that tidbit of information, Laine shrugs and places the empty bowl onto the coffee table. "He must've had his reasons."

"Who'd ya piss off, anyway?" Dean asks, catching her gaze when he looks up from his bowl, curiosity bubbling in his green eyes.

A short laugh leaves Laine and her gaze drops, fixing on a pile of books on the table beside the couch. "Long story short, I met a guy who turned out not to be who he said he was. Not that I was much better, but..."

"What do you mean?" Zach's head cocks to the side as he swallows his food.

"In my last year at college, I met a guy named Ryan. We started dating and it was good for a while, until I came home one day and he pointed a gun at my head." As soon as the words leave her mouth, Dean tenses up and she notices. Instead of stopping to call him out on it, Laine continues, eyes still not meeting theirs. "He was working for a group of Cambions, who I somehow pissed off, and they wanted me. So they sent a human to do their dirty work. They ordered him to watch me and get close to me. Apparently plans changed."

"What happened, exactly?"

She pulls her eyes away from the window she was staring out to see Dean looking at her, mouth drawn in a tight line and a hard edge to his eyes. She contemplates going into detail and giving them the full rundown about what happened all those years ago, but thinks better of it. "It doesn't matter, anymore. Just know that I got him before he could get me."

Silence cascades over the room, and even though she dodged a bullet there and didn't tell them the whole story, they still understand the meaning behind her words.

"I'm sorry, Laine," Zach murmurs, tone gentle and apologetic, as he stares at her with visible sadness in his dark eyes – he always has been the compassionate one, or the one who shows it, at least.

"It's in the past. Nothing to do about it now, other than get the Hell out of here and hope for the best." Laine sends him a forced smile and shakes her head as she stands. Her hands are clenched behind her back so as not to show them the shaking; even briefly talking about that time brings back memories she would rather leave buried and forgotten. "Enough about that, though. I should probably finish packing. You guys can chill here or check out the place – your choice."

With that said, she turns and heads up the stairs, stopping at the top to unclench her fists and assess the self-inflicted damage. There are crescent shaped indents on her palms, the skin an angry red where her nails dug too deep. Rubbing her palms against her jeans to ease the barely-there sting underneath her flesh, she heads into her room to finish packing and distract herself from her own mind.