As Laine is stuffing a few more objects into her purse, a soft knock sounds on her bedroom door. When she turns around, Dean is leaning against the door frame. With a welcoming half-grin, she motions him to enter.

"Where are you headed off to?" He glances over to her bag and then her, before looking around her room, his fingers trailing across the top of her short dresser holding a T.V. and game consoles.

"I've got to pick up a few things from town," she replies and grabs a leather jacket from off her bed, sliding her arms inside and pulling her hair out from under the collar once it is on her frame.

"What things?" he questions, stepping away from the dress when she walks towards it to grab her phone off it.

Shoving the device into her pants pocket, Laine picks up her purse and lets out a quiet laugh, dismissing his question. Dean trails after her as she leaves the room, repeating his question as they make their way down the stairs.

"Things," she says when they stop at the front door. Dean gives her a look, which she brushes off and grabs her keys before heading out the door. Again, he follows her.

"What are you hiding?" he asks, closing the door behind him. "You're only ever this secretive when you're about to do something stupid or something you know we won't like."

"I'm not hiding anything, I'm just choosing not to tell you. There's a difference." Walking over to her truck, Laine opens the door and slides into the driver's seat, plugging the keys into the ignition. "And I do not get secretive when I'm about to do something stupid – that's you."

Laine gives them a twist and waits for the usual rumble of the engine coming to life. When it doesn't, she twists the key again, only to get another pitiful sputter of the engine.

"That's not true." Dean weakly counters her previous statement, which earns him a hard look from Laine as she turns the key again.

"The Hell?" The engine stalls for a third time, refusing to start up despite her angry pleading and forceful pats to the steering wheel and dashboard.

"Seems like your battery's dead," Dean points out and leans against the door frame.

"Thanks for that, Sherlock," Laine mutters, following her words with a defeated sigh as she climbs out of the truck and slams the door shut. "Fucking vehicles."

Brushing her unruly curls away from her face, she looks towards the sky and tries to recall if she has a spare battery lying around somewhere. When she realizes she doesn't, the soft 'shit' that slips from her lips is unstoppable.

"Looks like you're not going anywhere after all." He looks down at her, the corner of his mouth lifting up.

Laine starts to throw him a glare, but thinks better of it when an idea pops into her head – one that Dean will surely not appreciate or agree to.

"Dean..." At her words, she takes a tentative step towards him, eyes flicking towards the pocket in which his keys usually are. He must sense her intentions for his hand darts into his pocket and grabs his keys, pulling them out and holding them just shy of her eager fingers.

"Get that idea out of your head. It's not going to happen," he chastises with a taunting jingle of the keys before stashing them away in his back pocket.

"But–"

Dean laughs and shakes his head. "No buts. You're not driving my car."

"Dean..." The corners of his mouth twitch up at her plea and Laine sighs in response, shoving her hands into the back pockets on her jeans.

"If you continue to speak like that, well..." He trails off, gauging her reaction with a devious look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

Laine's first reaction is to tell-him off for his insinuation, but she supresses the automatic response, deciding to turn his own game against him; it used to work when they were growing up, so it shouldn't be any different now. Taking a step closer, she rests the tips of her fingers on the side of his stomach, barely touching the fabric of his shirt beneath his open jacket.

"Well, what, Dean?" She tilts her head to the side and glances up at him, darting her tongue out to wet her lips in one swift motion.

Dean's body tenses as her fingers ghost over the buckle of his belt. Their gazes don't drift apart as she trails her fingers up his wrist and arm.

He swallows slowly, Adam's apple moving with the motion, and clears his throat. "I just... You – it's, uh..."

This sort of behaviour is unusual for Dean. Even when they were younger, he was never one to get flustered when in the presence of a woman who was flirting with him. He always knew what to say and what to do, no matter the circumstances. There have only been two instances that Laine has rendered him speechless, and he had been highly intoxicated during one of them.

If the look on his face is any indication, it appears as if he doesn't have a clue in the world about what to do right now.

"Cat caught your tongue?" Her unoccupied hand slinks behind his back and fingers for the keys stashed there. Cool metal touches her warm skin and Laine quickly snatches them out of Dean's unguarded pocket, pulling them away before he can stop her. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean looks down at her with confusion before his gaze travels to her hand now holding the keys to his car. He takes a step towards her, hand reaching out, but she darts away just in time to miss his hand getting near her. "Not fair."

"I didn't think you still fell for such simple tricks. Being a well-trained demon hunter, shouldn't you be prepared for all situations?" Laine teases as she slips past him and strides towards the Caprice. The key ring twirls around her index finger, a triumphant grin on her lips.

"Laine, give 'em back," Dean says while ignoring her taunts, voice low, and she can hear the crunch of gravel behind her.

Looking over her shoulder, Laine catches sight of the expression on Dean's face, which is bordering on murderous – he never has been one to take anything regarding his car lightly. She flashes him a smirk as she picks up her pace.

The car door is open and she is about to climb in when a hand grasps her shoulder and spins her around, her back pressed against the body of the car. Dean looks down at her, gaze still deadly and serious, and one arm rests next to her head while the other twitches at his side.

"Don't even think about it," Dean says, interrupting her thoughts about making a break for it, and she can make out the threat hidden beneath his words.

"Come on, Dean. I need a vehicle and yours is the only one available," Laine grumbles. The ridges of the keys dig into her palm as she holds them tight in her hand behind her back.

Dean shakes his head, his stare firm like a parent scolding their child for bad behaviour. "Not gonna happen. Now, hand over the keys, 'cause ya ain't driving my car."

"I'll only be gone a little while and it's not like I'm gonna crash her or anything." Her tone is just as firm as his stare, not allowing herself to back down from this or submit to his commands.

"Laine, seriously..." Dean grinds out the words, his face hovering close to hers – close enough that she can feel his heated breath on her lips.

Still not backing down, Laine locks her stare with his and holds it, her stubborn nature getting the best of her.

"Dean..." she imitates, earning herself a thoroughly annoyed look from the man himself.

This goes on for a few moments, the both of them staring the other down in hopes the other will cave in under the pressured looks, when someone quite loudly clears their throat, causing Dean and Laine to jump apart. A sharp curse slips from her mouth when she hits her elbow on the door, pain shooting up her arm on contact.

"Uh, I was wondering where you guys had disappeared to, but I guess I found you." Zach stands with an awkward hunch to his shoulders a few feet from them, eyes darting between his brother and the woman he grew up with.

Laine starts to say something about how this isn't what it looks like and the type of things one says when caught in a compromising situation such as this, but Dean is already opening his mouth. Much to her relief, nothing bad comes out of it.

"I'm gonna give her a ride into town. We'll be back in a bit, 'kay?" Dean explains with haste before climbing into the driver's seat of the Caprice.

Laine feels his eyes burning into the back of her skull, telling her to hurry up and get in the damn car.

"Yeah," she starts, giving Zach a cheeky, and what she hopes is innocent, smile. "I gotta run a few errands, then we'll be back and we can hit the road. You can look around the house, if you like. The library is upstairs."

"Yeah, okay. See you guys when you get back, then," Zach says with a slow nod as he starts heading back to the house. He spares them one more glance before he shuts the front door behind him.

Climbing into the car, Laine straps on her seatbelt and lets out a nervous laugh, throwing Dean a small grin along with the car keys. "Well, that was awkward."

"You're telling me." Dean laughs and grins back, biting his bottom lip as he starts up the engine.

Once the engine is purring and alive, he shifts gears and drives out towards the main gravel road, their previous interaction stashed away, but not forgotten.

**********

"The post office?" Dean questions as he puts the car into park in front of the small white building, turning to face Laine with an arm thrown over the back of the leather seat.

"I'll be right back." Climbing out of the car, she walks the short distance across the cracked pavement towards the door.

A man exiting the building holds the door open for her and Laine gives her thanks with a polite smile and heads inside, making her way over to the front desk. The short lady filing papers into the cabinet has her head dipped and a pair of earbuds in her ears, continuing on with her duties as if oblivious to the presence of the customer.

"Hello," Laine greets, attempting to grab her attention, and rests her arms on the counter separating them. The woman practically jumps out of her skin before turning around, a hand over her heart and a kind smile shaping her thin lips. "Sorry for scaring you."

She shakes her head and pulls the bud from her ears, draping them around her neck. "It's quite all right. What is that I can do for you today, miss?"

"I'm here to pick up a package."

"What would your name be?" the woman asks as she walks over to the computer to the left of her and begins typing away at the keys, pewter pink nails clicking against the plastic in a constant rhythm.

"Corinne Hughes." A few clicks of the keyboard later and the woman is instructing Laine to wait a moment before she scurries off to the back room, her heeled shoes tapping against the linoleum flooring. When she returns, there is a brown package tucked beneath her arm.

"Here you are, miss," she says, placing the box down onto the counter and sliding it across. "I just need you to sign this release form and show me a piece of ID, and we'll be dandy."

Nodding, Laine pulls her fake driver's license out of her wallet and exchanges it for the clipboard offered to her. Taking the pen, she scribbles down her alias' signature with practiced ease then slides the board back to the woman. The woman glances over it once, nods her head, and hands over the package and license.

"Have a nice day, Miss Hughes," she says with a kind smile, eyes crinkling as she reaches for her earbuds again.

"You too." Laine turns towards the door and hikes her bag up into a more comfortable position over her shoulder as she tears open one end of the package to conduct a brief scan of its contents.

Exiting the post office, she heads down the steps and towards the car, swinging open the heavy door and sliding into the passenger seat.

"What'd you pick up?" Dean enquires, eyes darting between the package in her lap and her face.

"Drive," she instructs as she reopens the top of the envelope again, dumping the contents into her lap. Sifting through the pile of plastic cards, some placed in protective casings such as the passports, she begins reading off the names of her new future credentials.

"Fake IDs?"

"All my old ones were out of date, and since I figured I'd be getting back into the swing of things, I probably will need some new ones." She gathers up the handful of IDs and places them inside her purse to sort through later.

When Dean looks over at her, he shakes his head and his mouth twitches – in frown or a smile, she cannot tell. "You just carry a gun around in your purse?"

Looking down next to her, she catches sight of the shaft of a gun sticking out of the top of her purse. She shrugs and pushes it back in, not wanting it to be seen by anyone who isn't supposed to see it. "It's just like you always carry a gun in your jacket, which I would do, if my jackets weren't so tight fitting. I actually got this one as a birthday present from my friend in Russia."

"You've always been a fan of the gun. Knives, too, and you've got killer aim with both." Dean chuckles, stopping when the light turns red, and flashes her a teasing look. "I would know. Remember that time you used me as your sparring partner after you came back from training? Jamie didn't like that one too much."

"That was what, when we were fourteen? Fifteen?" A silent laugh escapes Laine at his statement, a genuine grin forming as she shakes her head, recalling the memory with vivid intensity. "If I remember correctly, I only cut your shirt once and that's 'cause you forgot to block, so Jamie didn't have a thing to worry about."

"This guy one of us?" Dean asks as he begins driving again, sliding through every intersection they come upon without any interference from red lights.

"Arms dealer, actually." She shrugs and begins tracing a figure eight and a circle on the leather seat, eyes trained on the motion her finger makes. "He mainly helps the rest of us on contracts, and since I saved his ass a few years back, I get a pretty sweet discount on all the toys."

Dean nods, accepting her answer, but doesn't comment and allows the conversation to drop.

After a good ten minutes, they pull onto the highway. That is the moment in which Dean begins to fiddle with the radio, switching the track before it even has a chance to begin, much to Laine's displeasure. Her last nerve is struck when he changes the track for the thirteenth time, nearly through the album they are on, but before he has time to touch the button again, she smacks his hand away.

"If you're gonna be indecisive about the song choice, shut the damn radio off or make up your damn mind," she grumbles and rests her head against the cool glass of the window, hand propped underneath her cheek.

Dean huffs in irritation at her interruption, but chooses to settle on a song.

They lapse into silence, the dull sound of Led Zeppelin playing in the background and the rumble of the engine lulling her into a relaxed state. As she is staring out the window, watching the yellowing trees pass by, she catches sight of a black van driving behind them in the side-view mirror. Sitting up erect, she runs a hand through her hair as she inspects the vehicle behind them.

Now that she thinks about it, that van has been following them since they left the post office parking lot.

"Mind taking a look behind us?" Her eyes flit between Dean and the side mirror, keeping tabs on the steady speed of the tailing vehicle.

"Hmm, why?" Dean questions, but complies regardless, casting a chaste glance over his shoulder. "Yeah, black van. So what?"

Laine sighs in frustration at his disregard of the extremely probable facts presenting themselves. With one last hard look at the van behind them, she begins forming a plan to get them out of this alive. If her instincts are to be trusted and things do take a turn for the worse, they're going to need a plan, and if history is any indication, her instincts are usually never wrong.

"When are black vans with no plates ever a good thing? Especially when they stay behind you for longer than five minutes?"

"You think they're after us?" At his question, he presses down on the pedal and the car picks up speed – not enough to make it overly obvious to their possible pursuers, but enough to give them a few feet of distance from the other vehicle.

"They've been tailing us since the post office, so I wouldn't doubt it," Laine states. She slides the gun out of her purse, setting it on her lap just in case. "Where's your phone?"

Dean looks over at her with suspicion etched on his face, but nods his head down towards his lap. "Right pocket."

She reaches over and goes to slip her hand into his jacket pocket, but Dean stops her.

"Pants pocket."

Huffing, Laine reaches down and slides her hand into his pants pocket, but instead of feeling the shape of a phone, she feels nothing but a few coins. With an annoyed sigh, she rips her hand out and shoves it into his coat pocket, pulling out the device nestled within.

"So not the time for this, ya asshat," she hisses as she sits back in the seat, pressing power button and watching the screen light up. With a quick swipe over the screen, Laine clicks on the contact icon and scrolls through the extensive list until she comes to the one she wants.

"Admit it, you've always wanted to get in my pants," he taunts, smirking over at her despite the seriousness of the situation.

Instead of playing into his hands by replying, she flips him the bird, flashes a snark-filled grin, presses the call icon, and holds the phone to her ear.

"Who ya calling?"

"Zach," she mumbles, the phone beginning to ring, and she begins to silently beg for him to pick up as the ringing continues.

"Why not use yours?"

"Don't have his number." She flashes Dean a look, ready to say more, just as the line opens up to the familiar voice.

"Dean? What's wrong?" Zach's voice carries through, sounding quite loud through the speaker. Clearing, her throat, she pulls the device away an inch, wanting to preserve her hearing for a few years longer.

"It's Laine. I need you to do something for me, please." Laine hopes he will sense the urgency building in her voice, nimble fingers tapping impatiently against the door as she awaits his response.

"Yeah, sure. What do you need?"

"There's a case in my room underneath a false panel in my dresser, bottom drawer. If you grab that and the two suitcases on my bed, that would be great. There should also be a duffel bag at the top of the closet," she explains and the sound of a door opening reaches her ears – he must already be getting to work.

"What do you want me to do with these things?"

"I would tell you to go outside and into the shed, but there might already be people surrounding the house, so once you get all my stuff together, head downstairs past the kitchen and the door on the right will lead you to the garage." Laine goes to continue, but catches sight of Dean shooting her an apprehensive look. With a look in the side-view mirror, she understands what it's for.

"You might wanna hurry it up a bit. Pretty sure they've caught onto the fact that we know they're tailing us," Dean mutters, stepping down on the gas and sending them flying down the road at illegal speeds, but their pursuers catch up in no time.

"There's a metal grate in the middle that you can raise. Head down the stairs and follow the hallway. It will lead to a door with a keypad; the code is two-six-eight-four. Lock the door once you're inside and fill the duffel with the things in the cabinet to the left. Just stay there and wait for us to get back, okay? We should be there in about ten minutes."

"Okay, be careful," Zach says before ending the call. Placing the phone in Dean's waiting hand, she grasps the gun in her lap securely into her right hand, not wasting a minute to flick off the safety.

"Ready?"

Dean sends her a confused, yet slightly amused look, his right eyebrow quirking upwards in question. "What are you planning? To go at 'em guns-a-blazing?"

With a daring smirk, Laine pulls the top of the barrel back, a bullet sliding into place. "Something like that."