"Where is she?"

"She'll be here."

"What if you scared her away?"

"To her we're FBI and not just regular dudes, so it's fine. No way we scared her."

"Yeah, right, FBI dudes who are scared of fairies, that's not weird or creepy at all..."

"Fairies aren't anything to joke about. I think she knows that..."

By this time they could see me walking into the parking lot.

"Hello gentlemen! How did you both sleep last night?" I called out cheerily. Sam straightened up immediately and Dean whipped around, a red blush flashing across his face.

"Uh-huh, yeah, we slept good, thanks! How about you?" Dean awkwardly asked then cleared his throat.

"Eh, I slept ok," I chuckled then continued, "are we ready to go?"

"Yeah! Yeah for sure! Uh, do you want to ride with us? Or is it close enough to walk" Sam rubbed his face with his right hand nervously.

But I didn't really notice because I was stuck on the fact he'd asked if I wanted a ride.

I actually stuttered as I walked towards the gorgeous vehicle, "Uh, yes! Absolutely! I mean, no, it's pretty far to walk, I mean, we could do it, but I'd love—"

I stopped talking because I'd reached the car door and uttered a low, "whoooa" as I touched the outline of the doorframe. She was a beautiful deep black. Like the center of an inkwell, shining like the twinkle in someone's eye. The chrome details were spotless and showed my reflection. She had a large back end and all I could think of was how much you could fit into a trunk like that. And her front end balanced her out, beautifully symmetrical. And I could tell...she was a tank of a car.

I didn't exactly see the glance Dean and Sam shared.

"So you like cars?" Dean asked as I got into the back seat, pulled the door shut behind me and slid into the middle.

"Oh-ho-ho, I love cars like this..." I ran my hands along the seat on either side of me. I let out a little gasp, "she has a bench seat in the front too!?" I let out a small giggle. This was going to be a great day off...

"She's ma baby!" Dean patted the dashboard affectionately before starting the car and shifting from park into drive.

I told them quickly how to get there and then fell silent as they tried to discreetly argue about which radio station to have on. I took in the vehicle. It had wear and tear showing on the inside, but diligent upkeep. I was surprised, even two FBI agents, well, they were still two men on the road, how did they manage to keep it so spotless?

Dean had won the radio contest, something about shotgun shutting something and driver getting to pick the station, and had it cranked. We were nearly there, so instead of chatting, I started singing under my breath.

...it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not! We've got each other, and that's a lot...

"We'll give it a shot." I saw Sam mouth the words in the right hand mirror.

Whoa!! We're halfway there,

Dean was keeping the beat with his hands on the steering wheel.

Who-oh! Livin' on a prayer!

I sang a little louder.

Take my hand, we'll make it I swear

Dean and Sam were singing and not lip-syncing.

Whoa-oh! Livin' on a prayer!

The windows were down, so I thought, what the heck? I threw caution to the wind and belted out,

Livin' on a prayer!

***

A few air guitar and drum solos along with some more stellar classic rock impressions and we were at the museum.

I fairly bounced out of the car I was on such a high. As I shut the back door on the passenger's side, I turned to Sam smiling.

"Man, I love music! Thanks for being so..." I searched for the right words, "I don't know, cool, with me making a fool of myself in your backseat." I giggled and smiled up at him. Dean came around the front of the car and pointed at me.

"I don't know, anyone that can belt out Bon Jovi like that, is no fool...awesomely crazy, but not a fool." We shared a chuckle and followed Sam towards the museum.

"Eh, and besides," Dean nudged me with his elbow, "you weren't exactly the only one having a good time." He smiled broadly and I nudged him back, matching my smile to his.

As we walked in, Sam broke the silence, "so, was your boss really ok with us chatting with you yesterday?"

My high took a hit as I swallowed and dropped my gaze, thinking about yesterday...

"Well?! What did they say? What did they ask you about?"

I smiled coyly, "oh nothing much..." I let my voice trail off as I licked my lips. Donna and Rachel (she'd come back for her shift), looked at me wide-eyed until I broke character and laughed.

"Nah, it wasn't like that. It was actually serious...they asked me about Sissy Briggs and Silas Mercer."

Donna's face fell. She'd known both of them very well before they'd...well, changed their lifestyle.

"They're gonna find them," Rachel put her arm around Donna's slumped shoulders. I walked over and put my arm around the other side of her. Donna has such a big heart.

"What did you tell them? The FBI agents?" Donna asked while we stood there.

"They just asked me if I knew them and kind of like, I guess their stories, what kind of people they were...I just find it odd they asked me and not you Donna, especially when you actually knew them better."

"Ah, but I'm not tall and young, green-eyed with red hair and they don't want to see me tomorrow either." Donna nodded sagely with a belying smirk.

"Donna! Missing persons investigation!! Nothing to do with my...looks...or age for that matter!"

"Sure-sure..." Donna rolled her eyes and we shared a laugh until some customers walking in stopped the party and Rachel went to take their order.

I snapped back to the moment, soberly.

"She was, uh...you see, she knew those people that went missing quite well, but a while ago." I stopped just as we reached the front desk. "Donna only likes to see the good in people. It broke her heart to watch their lives fall apart and it is breaking her heart that they're missing." I sighed heavily. "She truly is one of those people that is the heart and soul of this town, so yeah. If you can help us find them, then she didn't mind at all." I smiled up again at Sam and when I watched him grin back, I noticed Dean out of the corner of my eye. He looked...uncomfortable? Annoyed? I couldn't quite make it out.

We were at that moment greeted by the museum receptionist.

"Hello Lynn! How are you today? It is so good to see you!" The older woman grabbed my hand in both her own as I reached across the desk in greeting.

"I've been doing pretty well Marjorie! How are you?"

"Oh, same old-same old. My stars, who have you brought with you today to explore our very own secret realm?" Marjorie batted her eyelashes and came all the way around the desk, taking off her glasses and letting the right arm tap against her lips.

I laughed and gestured to the two tall men behind me. "These are Federal Agents, here looking into the Sissy Briggs and Silas Mercer missing person's cases."

Sam finished introducing the both of them while they produced their badges. Marjorie replaced her glasses on her face and put a hand over her heart. "Well then. I thank you gentlemen so much for being here at a time like this. It warms this womanly heart to hear that such young, brave," she looked at Dean and I swore she winked," and handsome men are here, protecting and preventing future harm for us." She kept gazing back and forth between them, essentially ignoring me and causing Sam's face to get redder, and redder...

"Marjorie!"

"Why yes, my dear?" She finally turned to face me.

"Is Marcel around today?"

"Yes indeed, he's in the back."

"Oh wonderful, I'd greatly appreciate if he could give us a little tour of the museum today!"

"Oh, but of course! Marce-e-e-l!" Marjorie's voice echoed as she whisked herself into the back room.

"Wow, is she always like that?" Sam leaned down and whispered in my ear.

"Mm-hmm. When new young, brave and handsome men come to town anyways..." I turned from Sam and looked over at Dean, sending him a wink. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but Sam interrupted,

"What did she mean 'you're own secret realm'?" Sam held up his fingers like quotation marks.

I sighed. I knew this moment would come: the moment I had to reveal my crazy...

"You see, I'm here...a lot."

Sam nodded, but his face told me to continue. I looked to Dean for distraction, but he seemed interested in the displays spread around the small foyer.

"I kinda...well, I love folklore and legends and Marjorie and her husband Marcel keep this place running and I sorta...help."

"Miss Creepy Flirt has a husband?" Dean's voice startled me as I looked over at him holding...

"Dean! Please! You're not supposed to touch that!" I hissed as I hurried over to him on the other side of the room. I took the relic out of his hand and placed it gently back behind the small display rope where a tiny sign read "Please Do Not Touch the Gemstones". I pointed at the sign and raised my eyebrows at him incredulously.

"You'll have to forgive my partner," Sam had followed me over, "he forgets himself sometimes. He is a real...hands on type of detective." Sam gave his partner a look that could kill and I felt a giggle coming, but swallowed it. Instead I addressed Dean's question, thankful that Sam's question had been put to bed so quickly:

"Miss 'Creepy Flirt', as you called her, is not truly flirting with you. She does indeed find you both young, handsome and strong, but she just is super honest about what she thinks of people. It comes across as flirting because she tends to only see the good in people, not the negative or pessimistic."

Sam was about to answer when we heard Marjorie returning,

"Here he is!" she sang out. As dear and eccentric as Marjorie was, her darling of a husband, Marcel, was kind.

"Why hello there my girl, Lynn," he let out a laugh and pulled me in for a hug. "Whew!" he whistled. "It's got to be a record long time since you been here. An entire month maybe?"

"Oh stop." I gave Marcel a playful shove. "You make it sound like I'm addicted or something!" but Marcel had moved on to my companions.

"So my wife tells me you're in the FBI?" he looked at them closely.

"Ah, yes, your wife..." Dean rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, chuckling nervously. I looked at Sam questioningly, and he rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"Yes, my wife, Miss Marjorie." Marcel put his arm out and Marjorie came back around the desk and snuggled into him. "Been 35 years now." Marcel paused then released his wife and looked at Dean. "Does that surprise you?"

"No-no, I uh, sorry, I just uh, thought..."

"What? We couldn't be married because she's white and I'm black?" Marcel's kind tone stiffened slightly and I felt nerves prickling my scalp. I had never even considered that these men might be racist. Marcel was indeed black and Marjorie was white...did these men--did Dean--have a problem with that?

"NO! No sir, I'm not like that at all, I mean, I had a girl once who, uh..." Dean appeared to be floundering awkwardly and I shot Sam one last look...he actually seemed amused at his partner's discomfort. Obviously, he wasn't going to be any help here.

"Your girlfriend?"

"Well, not exactly...what I mean is--" Dean face was going all shades of red and he was practically blustering. I looked at him pathetically trying to save himself and decided to trust he wasn't racist, and help him out of his misery:

"He just thought he had a chance with Miss Marjorie is all." I smiled at Marcel. "He is rightly disappointed that she is taken, but also clearly pleased that if she was to be taken, it would be by as wonderful man as yourself." I bumped my shoulder against Marcel and felt him soften...a little. So on a whim, I took Dean's hand. "Guess he'll just have to settle for me!"

That broke the tension and Marcel let out a belly laugh, then sobered. "No one, and I mean no one," he looked directly at Dean, then Sam, "simply settles for my girl Lynn." He looked at me with pride in his eyes. "She's been one of God's greatest gifts to this town and one of the most special and beautiful people in the world. Ain't no one going to ever settle for her...they'd be lucky to ever reach that high." Marcel patted my shoulder and then cleared his throat.

"Well now. You want the full tour, or just the garden tour?"

"The full tour please. These agents seem to have an interest in local folklore." Sam's elbow nudged me slightly as he walked past following Marcel. I went to look up at Dean and realized in that moment that I had not let go of his hand yet. I yanked my hand from his with a start and blushed profusely.

"I am so sorry, I just wanted to cover for you with Marcel and I guess...oops. I'm so sorry." By this time my blush was blushing.

"Don't worry about it, thanks so much for saving me there! Sammy was just loving it and I knew I was only gonna make it worse!" Dean heaved a sigh of relief. "You didn't think I was racist against," Dean gestured towards where Marcel was leading Sam, "them, you know, being together, did you?"

"Well, honestly, I didn't know, Dean...there's all kinds of people in this world. There's even people in this town who don't appreciate Marcel and Marjorie being together. It's so stupid and sad. But I'm glad that they basically live in peace here...it's not the same everywhere in the States!" I looked up at Dean and he was already looking down at me. We were halfway to the garden now, so I knew we would catch up to Sam and Marcel soon. I was just glad he'd so easily let the hand-holding thing go, so I figured I'd keep the subject changed.

"Who was the girl?"

"What girl?" Dean furrowed his eyebrows and looked away from me to where he was going.

"The girl you were going to tell Marcel about that wasn't your girlfriend."

"Oh, that girl..." Dean's voice trailed off and we took a few steps in silence. "Well, that's complicated. She wasn't my girlfriend, but we did date for a bit." He paused. "Yeah, well, her mother is white and her dad was black. Same as Marjorie and Marcel. I just meant that I didn't see people in shades of colour. I see them for who they are, as people." Dean paused again. "But I'm not very good with my words sometimes, I guess." He let out a short laugh.

"No, I get it, I'm the same. It's what I believe too...and I talk too much, so I know what you mean about words." He grinned at me and then his eyes narrowed slightly.

"What?" I asked in confusion at his staring.

"You know...there is one way you can make it up to me." Dean had lowered his voice, both of us slowing our walk to a standstill, as we approached the doors heading out to the garden, Sam and Marcel already at the first display. "The hand holding thing, I mean."

I gulped and blushed. I knew changing the subject had been to good to be true.

"What's that?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Let me hold it again some time." Dean allowed his smirk to slowly roll across his face, starting at his lips, across his cheeks and into his eyes until they gleamed with mischief and promise. It was then I realized he had freckles spread delicately across his face, a sharp contrast to the faint scars I saw scattered here and there.

"Ok." I whispered breathlessly. He was clearly flirting for sport and I was losing my mind!

Get yourself together!

"We'd better catch up or you'll miss some important information!" I laughed lightly and left Dean in my dust as I flew through the doors to catch up with our companions. Marcel was explaining the city origins to Sam as Dean approached us. He still had that cocky smirk on his face and winked at me when he joined us. I wasn't going to let him win, so I winked back and pretended to be engrossed in what Marcel was saying.