I was curled up on Bobby's couch, dozing. It was late-evening and Sam had gone to get some takeout, Bobby had gone to his basement to sort through some more old books and relics or something, and Dean was starting a fire in the fireplace.

The soft crackling of a new fire began echoing throughout the study and I opened my eyes. Dean was crouched down, watching the flames, his face illuminated and darkened in turn by their dance.

I looked at the small fire and felt a dull ache in the pit of my stomach. I used to love fireplaces. The flames giving warmth and light and creating an ambience like no other. But currently they just reminded me of the final moments within my home...the final moments of my life that had now ended. Dean stood up suddenly and snapped me out of my dark spiral...for the moment.

"So, you got it going finally?" I said with a hint of amusement.

Dean looked sideways and me, then back at the fire, grinning. "Yep. Took longer than it should have, but whatever."

I sat up on the couch where I'd been curled and Dean sat down in a chair near me, both of us staring at the fireplace in silence. It was somehow...comfortable. Yet something made the air feel heavy, like one or both of us wished to say something, but couldn't. Dean finally broke the spell.

"Lynn?"

"Yes, Dean?"

He exhaled heavily and leaned forward, his forearms on his knees, "Sam told me about what you did."

"What I did?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, turning towards Dean to give him my full, anxious attention.

"With...with the wraith."

"Oh?"

"How you..." Dean's licked his lips and looked down before looking up again, "how you saved his life."

I had never been more speechless in my entire life. I hadn't thought about that moment since it had happened. It had been the sheer drive of survival, the thought that I was in anyway further endangering myself had not even occurred to me. Raw instinct had dictated my actions, so I never thought them heroic or "saving" at all.

I finally stammered out, "oh...yes. I had...forgotten...that."

"He probably would have died if you hadn't intervened." Dean leaned back in his chair and looked at me, his eyes narrowed and his brows knit together. "I was completely tied up with that other blasted monster and he knew he was losing his fight." Dean stopped and grabbed his beer, taking a long swig.

I stared at Dean hard until he turned and met my gaze. My instinct, as always, was to break eye contact and look somewhere, anywhere else, but I held my ground and stared back, letting him see what he would, maybe allowing him to see the words I couldn't...didn't know how to say.

What do you say to a man who has just thanked you for saving his only living relative's life? How do you let him know that you accept his thankfulness without sounding pretentious, conceited or just plain stupid? How do you keep him from feeling awkward, forlorn, alone while he waits for what you're going to say? What could I possibly say to convey just how much I appreciated what he said, but at the same time make him realize that there was nothing that I could have done differently in the grand scheme of things? That there was no way on earth I would not have helped Sam; apart from initially being frozen in grief and fear? How I have no idea how I did it then, nor if I could do it again?

In the milliseconds it took for these thoughts to race through my mind, our eyes never broke their connection. Dean's face was unreadable, his eyes making tiny darting motions as he looked deeper and deeper into my soul. His left cheek flinched, and I saw his eyes grow dim and shiny. My heart heaved and I felt tears prick my eyes as I saw that we shared a common theme. A common pain:

Loss.

Dean finally looked away and down at the floor between us. The pressure grew to do something...say something. Finally, unable to handle the silence any more, I stood up from the couch and stood in front of Dean's chair, barely knowing what I was doing. He looked up but before I could see what his face was saying, I bent and wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder. Dean's arms tightened around me as I started to cry...again. 

Girls in books who are faced with tragedy always seem to have a good cry or two and then they're elegant and sad for the next few chapters until they're essentially "over it". Then it makes for a good backstory later on in the book. Girls in movies are devastated for a minute, breaking down in horrible dramatic passions, and then rouse themselves to the greater good, rising to the occasion and knowing their loss made them stronger. 

And then there's me.

I know books and movies aren't reality, but they're based on reality...on experiences real people have had. Yes, sometimes they stray from actual, possible happenings, but the human spirit is still there, shining through like a bright beacon of hope. 

But I had no hope.

All was darkness.

And I couldn't stop crying...no matter what anyone thought. No matter how pathetic others viewed me. Their opinion no longer mattered. I kept trying to rally myself, trying to keep my unexpected (and surely unwanted) presence in Sam's, Dean's, and even Bobby's, lives to a minimum of distraction and imposition. And yet, here I was, for the second time in 24 hours, sobbing my heart out into the shoulder of a Winchester brother; 

most likely ruining his clothing...  my thoughts jeer at me, even in my darkest hours it seems.

This barrage of emotions and broken thoughts only made me cry more. I figured by now Dean must truly think I was insane. Suddenly, I became aware of him again, and myself; locked in an embrace that had become desperate and yet somehow soothing. Without realizing it, I had started to crumple, so he stood up, bringing me with him. His arms were wrapped right around me, one arm supporting my shoulder and head, the other arm around my waist, keeping me upright. As waves of embarrassment for making him yet again support me, a stranger, I heard a sniff and realized that I wasn't the only one who needed someone:

Dean was crying too.

This tough, strong, independent and capable man, obviously had been through a lot of crap...besides what I already knew from the day they'd spent with Gramma and I. And for whatever reason, in this moment, supporting each other, there was peace. Peace like I needed. Not peace that would last forever, but peace like...a brief release from pain. 

My heart had been obliterated into millions of shards the moment I found Gramma on the floor. The pieces were then scattered and tossed into the wind, seemingly never to be recovered, while my home rose in flames. I thought this feeling of void where my heart used to be was going to have to be the new normal...the pain a constant companion.

I finally leaned back and looked into Dean's face, two tear tracks evident on his face. He flashed a small, embarrassed smile before giving me a final squeeze and stepped away from me. In that moment, standing on Bobby Singer's study floor with Dean turning away to put another log on the fire, it was as though a single tiny fragment of my heart had been recovered; the first moment I was able to consider it might be possible...

...to heal.

***

"Hey guys, check this out." Sam said as he walked into the study, takeout in his one arm, a newspaper in the other. I shot Dean a sideways glance, but he didn't look my way, so I turned back to Sam.

"Let's call Bobby up from downstairs." I suggested, torn between wanting to know what Sam found and knowing that I wouldn't be helpful if I did know.

"I'll go get him," Dean walked toward the stairwell and headed down.

I stood up from the couch and wandered over to where Sam had put the takeout down.

"Mmmm, what did you get us??" I sniffed deeply, but could only make out the smell of kitchen grease...obviously familiar and oddly comforting.

"Just some burgers...and fries! You liked burgers and fries, right?"

"I think everyone likes burgers and fries, Sam..." I smiled up at his tall lanky figure, giving him a wink. He rolled his eyes and grinned, but his cheeks reddened ever-so-slightly.

"So...did you have any epiphanies as to what's going on while I was away?" Sam asked, changing the subject.

I've had epiphanies, but I highly doubt they're the kind you mean...

"Not really...how 'bout you?" I called over my shoulder as I headed to the kitchen to get plates and condiments.

"Same here!" Sam called back, "but I did have one thought I want to look into deeper."

"Oh?" I asked, returning with plates, forks, ketchup, vinegar and salt.

Sam turned to me as I walked in the study and shook his head, chuckling, "I will never get over how much you can carry in one trip." 

I looked down at my arms and realized that I had probably taken what most people would take in three trips.

"What can I say? I'm a waitress!" I quickly set down all the condiments I'd been able to find in Bobby's kitchen cupboards and fridge that could possibly be put on a hamburger. 

"So...what's this idea you've had?"

Sam seemed to hesitate, so before I lost my nerve, I continued, "I know I don't know a ton about monsters and fighting them, but I do know enough to get by from hearing you guys talk today, and it seems to concern me directly, so...go ahead. I can handle it." I leaned heavily onto the table. "I have to handle it."

Sam pursed his lips and nodded. "Let's wait until we get Bobby and Dean back up here and deal with one thing at a time...but yes, you'll definitely be in on it."

I nodded my assent and took the empty takeout bags from Sam and went to put them in the kitchen. When I got back, Bobby and Dean were upstairs again, digging into what Sam had brought.

"Did you get extra onions?" Dean had already partially unwrapped two burgers and was evaluating a third.

"Dude, this is your burger!" Sam exasperatedly grabbed the unwrapped burgers and handed Dean one that said "XTR ONIONS".

Dean eyed it suspiciously then shrugged as he unwrapped it and took a bite. "Hmm...not bad. So did you find anything down there, Bobby?"

"Well," Bobby drawled slowly, "I am not too sure. I found some books that might have something in them about sequential attacks with different MOs, but I am honestly not sure if they are what we need."

Sam threw a French fry in his mouth, and nodded slowly. "I think you're on the right track Bobby. I was looking at the paper and it had an account of the - the fire." Sam stuttered a little while glancing in my direction. I pretended to be enamoured with the pickle fragment sticking out of my burger. Before Sam could continue his thought, Dean jumped in:

"We looked at the MOs of the previous disappearances, when the guy and the girl were taken. We did an investigation as deeply as we could, but with both of those cases, no body was found."

"And that doesn't match the MO of a wraith, a werewolf and kitsune attacking the same house and very obviously leaving a bod- uh, evidence, behind." Sam stammered again and this time I nearly crossed my eyes in concentration on which end of the French fry to bite.

"I've never in my entire hunting life heard of that combination of monsters trying to attack at the same time or the same place. There's something special about that place. There's something special about Lynn here. There's a reason that they didn't leave after killing her grandmother, I am certain of that." Bobby nodded sympathetically towards me and I showed him the ghost of a smile in response. Now was not the time to get sappy. Now was the time to speak up.

"What did the newspaper say, Sam? Are they looking for you guys as my kidnappers?" I tried to sound light-hearted, but I honestly had no idea how I sounded. 

Sam looked at me with a strange expression. Then he picked up the newspaper and seemed to scan it for a moment.

"They found three bodies in the house. They feel it is you, your grandmother, and an unknown intruder. They feel the intruder was responsible for the disappearances in town and are basically calling it an open and shut case."

"So...no one knows I'm alive? Aren't they even going to check dental records to see if the body was me?"

Sam flipped the papers back and forth a little bit. "Doesn't look like it. The cops in your town aren't very competent, are they?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Guess not...at least there won't be anyone wondering why I'm not at work or where I went."

"Wait a minute...this may actually be a really good thing." Bobby stated slowly. "If the humans think you're dead, maybe most monsters will too. Maybe this will give us time to see what is chasing you and why...or if anything was ever after you in the first place."

"Good thought." Dean chimed in as he swallowed the last bite of his burger and moved on to his fries. "So what was the rest of your thought Sammy?" 

"I was wondering if..." he hesitated, almost as if he was afraid of how we would react. "What if this is something bigger than just the monsters? What if they were under some kind of spell? Or orders from a pagan god or something?"

Silence filled the room and my scalp prickled in fear as I tried my best to show outward calm and composure.

"Like..." Bobby's voice trailed off as he leaned back in his chair. Suddenly he jumped up and started pacing. "Like there is a larger, more powerful being using everything at it's disposal to accomplish whatever it wants to do?"

"Exactly." Sam pointed at Bobby with his French fry before popping it into his mouth.

"So, what exactly would have that kind of power? And what the heck does it want with Lynn or the location of Lynn's house? What is it looking for?"

"Honestly," Bobby looked at Dean, "I have not a freakin' clue. The creatures we know we are dealing with have significant power in and of themselves, they're solitary and they don't answer to anyone. So if something is telling them to do something and they're willing to lose their lives over it...it's bigger than we have any idea."

***

While the men around me were discussing all the different feasible possibilities of what was going on, I had slowly slid Sam's paper towards me so I could see the account of the fire.

Sure enough, there was a picture of the ruins of my home. I choked, my breath completely gone, but I kept reading, keeping an outward calm.

Investigators believe the fire broke out sometime before midnight last night. Reportedly, a gas leak was where the fire originated. The fire chief took some time to address the press this morning at a press conference- 

"We'd like to take this solemn opportunity to remind everyone to always check and make sure their gas stoves and furnaces are in tip top shape, at the very least, seasonally. Although foul play may have been involved in this instance, we believe tragedy could possibly have been averted if the furnace had had proper upkeep."

In shock, I scanned the rest of the article. The fire chief and I had been friends: he was a regular of mine at the restaurant and nothing was said of me. He didn't even offer condolences above and beyond calling the "incident" a "tragedy".

And for the first time since I saw my Gramma on the floor I felt something other than numbness and grief: I felt anger.

"Look at this!" I interrupted the conversation around me, barely even noticing that it had been occurring, "just LOOK at this!" I slammed the article down on the table in front of me.

The three men looked down at it and then at me before Bobby gingerly picked it up and shook it to straighten the pages.

"I live there for how many years and they sum it all up in one 'unfortunate tragedy'? As if I didn't babysit their children, feed their families, support their town...with everything I have? I mean, they don't even mention if Gramma and I are getting a proper burial!" I fumed and paced a couple steps towards the kitchen, running my fingers through my hair. I inhaled slowly, trying to calm down and get some perspective. I knew it was emotional and physical drainage that made me this angry, but I still needed to get control. 

I rubbed my hands over my eyes and cheeks before turning around to face everyone else, leaving my fingers in my hair like a crazy, lion-mane headband. Bobby squinted at me, then back at the paper in his hands.

"How many people are in your town, Lynn?" Sam asked.

"About," I sighed heavily and dropped my hands from my hair to my sides, "oh, I'd say 1,000. Max." 

"So in a town of 1,000 people," Dean began, "you'd basically know everybody and everybody would know you, right?"

"Totally." I nodded

"So the loss of your grandmother, and you, for all intents and purposes, would come as a huge blow to the community...it would be a devastating loss." Sam seemed to mull the words over in his mind as he spoke them.

"So the fact that this paper is all but ignoring the fact you're gone..." Bobby paused so Dean interjected, "...means that they know something is happened and they're investigating."

Bobby looked me dead in the eyes.

"Or they're trying to cover it up."

***