Fic: Kitsune (5/?)

[serafina20]

Title Kitsune
Author serafina20
Disclaimer Supernatural is owned by people other than myself. I make no money off them and am only playing with other's intellectual property. That sounds somehow dirty.
Summary The Winchesters, with the help of a friend, are investigating a series of seemingly unrelated deaths of college professors ranging back one hundred and fifty years.



They spent the next morning making calls, searching the internet, and filling in as much information about each professor's death as they could. Each used a different computer. Between the three of them, they were able to plough through a good portion of the list.

Of course, Rachel didn't work the whole time. She kept flipping back and forth between research and her essay. Around eleven, she gave up on writing and just printed it to give to her advisor.

"It's not quite done," she'd said, scowling when Sam had smirked at her knowingly, "but Dr. Grayson said that if we turned it in early, he could proofread and give some suggestions to make it better."

"How many times have you turned it in so far?"

Dean had smiled at the blush that colored her cheeks as she said, "Five. He told me that it's good enough for an excellent marking last time, but...."

"But you're a perfectionist," Sam had finished for her.

"I was going to say obsessive freak," Dean said. "You're much nicer."

Rachel kicked him in the shin on the way out.

"So," Sam said sometime after she left. "You slept in Rachel's bed last night."

"The futon was hurting my neck," Dean answered.

Sam's lips twitched, his eyes on the computer screen. "Right. So, did you change the sheets before, or did you sleep wrapped up in her scent?"

"Dude, that's gross."

"You're saying that Rachel smells bad?"

"No." Then, before he'd implicated himself too much, he added, "But, uh, mostly all that I could smell was fabric softener and, uh, stuff."

"So you were smelling."

It was hard not to, he'd thought, but he'd just smack Sam on the back of the head.

Rachel had come back just before noon. She'd grabbed the remaining slice of pizza, complained that the guys were pigs, then disappeared into her room.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Dean demanded when she emerged.

Rachel smiled at him and turned slowly around in a circle. He shook his head, watching her in disbelief. It wasn't that she looked all that unusual--if he'd seen her on the street, he'd never give her a second glance. Okay, so maybe that was a little unusual. Rachel was a pretty girl and he *always* gave pretty girls a second, third, and fourth glance.

But in this outfit...

"What's the matter?" she asked. She pushed a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid away from her face.

"There's a hole in your shirt," Sam pointed out. He crossed the room to stand next to Dean.

"What happened to your hair?" asked Dean.

"Did you know that wearing two different socks?"

Dean walked to Rachel and circled her slowly. "There's a big ink spot on your ass." He pulled a pencil from her back pocket. "And what's this?"

She took it and stuck it in her hair. "A pencil."

"Why did you change clothes?" he asked, noticing that the plain watch she'd been wearing had been replaced with a broken digital watch.

Rachel wrinkled her nose. "Trust me."

Dean exchanged looks with Sam. His brother shrugged and moved to the door to grab his jacket.

Dean put his hand on Rachel's shoulder and leaned in. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly in her ear. "I mean, did everything go okay with your advisor?"

She turned and put her hands on his hips. "Dean, I'm fine. Just trust me, okay?" She stood on her toes and kissed him on her cheek. "You're cute." Then she turned and followed Sam out of the apartment.

The dopey smile was automatic. He fought to control it, to wipe it from his face. Like most battles, it was rough. Unlike most battles, Dean almost lost this one. Luckily, his sense of discipline prevailed--as usual, in his father's voice, bellowing how stupid it'd be to get emotionally attached to someone, especially at his age--and Dean was able to keep his face stoic and businesslike.

Once settled, he left the apartment. Rachel and Sam were waiting for him outside on the curb, talking.

"Okay, so Judy Lowry is intensely driven, kind of abrupt, and seriously smart," Rachel was saying. "She always has a million things going on in her life at once, and is really scattered brained. She comes off like she can't remember anything, but that's just because her mind jumps around from subject to subject and it's hard to make her focus. So, when you start questioning her, be real direct and don't let her get off subject. You have to ask the right questions."

"Right questions?" Sam repeated.

Rachel nodded and gave a little shrug. "Just... stuff to make her stop and think. She tends not to if it's not something she's interested in right that moment. So, you've got to keep peppering her until she stops and thinks."

"*We've* got to keep peppering her?" said Dean. "What about you? You're the one who knows her."

Rachel shook her head. They crossed the grass, heading to a large, stone building at the other end of the quad.

"I don't know her all that well, actually," she said. "We know who each other is, we've talked a few times, but it's not like we know each other all that well. And I'll ask her question, to, but do I really have to remind you that this is your area of expertise?" She slipped suddenly in a patch of mud.

Dean caught her by the arm before she hit the ground. He wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her over the patch like she weighed nothing. "Ghost hunting?"

"No." She gripped his shoulder, face twisting until he set her down. "I mean, yes, of course. But part of that hunting is talking to people about it. I don't do that enough so I don't know what to ask."

"You did fine last time we worked together," Sam pointed out. "You got that librarian talking to us."

"Yeah, but we already knew what we were dealing with, just not who or why. And, I sort of knew her."

Dean stopped in his tracks. "Okay, do you or don't you know this girl we're going to see?"

Rachel sighed and put her hand on her hip, sort of sticking it out. "Yes, I know her. But I want you to do most of the questioning. Both of you."

"Why?"

Rachel's jaw tightened. "Are you ever going to trust me to plan anything?"

"Is there any reason I should?" Dean couldn't help stepping into her. It was a mean gesture and designed to forcibly remind her just who was in charge. He usually didn't do it to people on his size.

She wasn't fazed. She just tilted her head back and met his eyes. "I'm the one who figured out how to get Andrew Winston out of the picture without destroying it."

"And almost got killed in the process. For the millionth time that job!"

"It was the wind's fault!" Rachel shouted. "And I didn't hear either you or Sam make any suggestions to prevent it from blowing the salt out of the holy circle."

He grabbed her arms. The image of that crazed ghost as it'd launched itself on Rachel filled his mind. Her going down. The ghost stabbing at her, her flesh torn and bleeding. So close to death on his Goddamn watch, and... "I would have thought it was too obvious to need mentioning. In fact..."

"Okay." Sam stepped in between them, pushing Dean away from Rachel. "Go back to your corners." He shook his head and tugged Rachel out of Dean's reach. "You guys are the definition of hot and cold, aren't you?"

Rachel beat Dean to the punch by saying, "Oh, I don't know. That felt pretty hot to me." She was looking away from him, eyes on the ground. Her face was twisted, nose scrunched, mouth puckered. Unhappy.

Well, fine. So was he. Although, probably for different reasons than her.

Sam shot Dean a look. It clearly said that Dean was an idiot.

Like he needed his brother to let him know. Sam insisted that Dean sucked when it came to women. Dean didn't agree, at least under normal circumstances. Rachel was a circumstance unto herself. Everything went wrong when he tried to talk to her. With most girls, you fed them a line, and they either shot you down or responded. He could never tell which they would do before they did it, but he'd come to expect one or the other.

Rachel did neither. He checked her out, she seemed confused. He tried a line, she analyzed it like he'd revealed the secret of life. She turned him around and twisted his mind until all he could think to do was insult and roughhouse like he was ten. And, really? Doing something like pulling her hair and shoving her in the mud was probably the way to go with her.

She was like an undiscovered supernatural force herself. And most of the time, Dean really didn't know if he liked her or wanted to kill her.

"He's really a good guy," Sam told her. "He's just a bitch when he's in pain."

"Aren't all men?"

"Ah, don't do that," Sam said, looping his arm around Rachel's neck. "You don't really believe that sexist stuff, do you?" He led her towards the building.

Dean trudged after them. He was not pouting or sulking. He was following.

"Depends on the guy, I guess. You know what they say. The tougher they are, they louder the whine?" Rachel smiled up at Sam.

Sam's forehead furrowed. "I think you mean, the bigger they are, the harder they fall."

Rachel's cheeks turned pink, and Dean smirked; girl had a dirty mind. "Well, I think my saying is more appropriate for this case," she said primly.

Dean shuffled up behind her and socked her lightly on the arm. "Yours isn't all that safe either, you know," he said.

"Why, Mr. Winchester, I don't know what you're talking about." Her face was bright red now, and when she met his eyes, her mouth twisted up in one of those embarrassed smiles.

"Dean, you're definitely venturing into too much information territory," Sam said. He opened the door to the building. "There are some things a guy just shouldn't know about his brother."

"You guys generally share a room, though." Rachel went to the elevator and hit the call button. "Doesn't that lead a bit to extra sharing."

"Seriously, girl, that brilliant mind in there's filthy." Dean shook his head. He rapped her on the head.

"All the best minds are." She looked pointedly at Sam, who rolled his eyes.

"There's filthy, and there's perverted," he told her. "And, you're somewhere in between."

The elevator opened. They stepped inside.

"Oh, come on. When we were going to Plumtree, you made me pay for the motel."

"Dean made you pay," Sam corrected.

Dean smacked him on the back of the head, but Rachel just said, "Point is, it was my money. And you still only got one room. For all three of us."

"It wasn't safe," Dean said automatically.

"If I'd been in a different room from the picture, I would have been fine."

"Rachel," Sam started, but Dean interrupted him.

"You think ghosts are the only dangerous things in places like that?"

"I would have been..."

"Dude, the guy at he counter said he'd give us a discount if I let him in to fuck you."

"Dean!" Sam snapped, pinching him. They had agreed never to tell her. Dean knew it.

But, dammit, she had to know. Had to get used to the idea that it wasn't a safe world out there, especially if she was planning on going off on her own for awhile.

"Why," she started, eyes round, but she interrupted herself with a shake of her head. "Duh. Probably not a lot of women go stay there. Young ones or whatever."

"Pretty ones," Sam added.

Rachel just rolled her eyes and hit him lightly in the arm. "Of course that's what I meant."

The door opened. Sam stepped out, but Dean grabbed Rachel and held her back. After punching the *Close Door* button, he pushed her up against the wall.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Dean, come on. We have..."

"'Lucky guys, you finding a young one,'" Dean quoted. "'Double cause they don't look like that around here.'" He'd wanted to scratch the creep's eyes out when he said it, but it was almost helpful now.

Her eyes went to the ceiling. "Dean, I'm not, like, insecure about my looks or anything."

"Aren't you?"

"I don't. I don't," she stuttered. "Dude, you really do watch Oprah, don't you? I thought Sam was joking."

Dean cocked an eyebrow but refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he ran one finger down her cheek.

Her breath hitched. "Dean, it wouldn't have mattered what I looked like. I was young, I was new, and he thought I was a hooker. And, apparently, he thought you were my pimp."

He flushed.

"Thanks for trying to raise my self-esteem, but stop it. You're freaking me out."

"Okay. Sorry." He let her go. "But you gotta tell me: what is up with these clothes?"

"All part of my master plan." She beamed. "Just trust me."

"Oh, we're back to that again."

"Again." She pushed the "Door Open" button and exited.

Sam did not look please.
"Sorry," Rachel apologized, like it hadn't been Dean causing the delay.

He shook his head. "Like watching children," Sam said. "Naughty children."

"Dude, I watched you from the time you were a baby. You got no place to complain." Dean pushed past Sam and Rachel into Judy Lowry's shared office. "Ms. Lowry?"

There was a woman sitting in front of a computer. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. "Read the sign," she told him crisply, not looking away from the screen.

Dean frowned. Rachel and Sam were standing in the door. With a roll of her eyes, Rachel pointed to the sign taped to the door. It read, "I am no longer answering any questions about papers or the final test. You've had time. Your lack of preparation does not ('not' was underlined three time] constitute an emergency on my part."

Oh, this woman was going to be fun.

"Judy?"

Dean gaped at Rachel. Her voice was quavering, soft, and sad. Somehow, she'd managed to make her eyes look five times bigger than they normally were. She was shorter, too.

Sam shrugged when Dean looked at him. "Go along with it," he mouthed.

Judy turned, jaw clenched. "Look... you're not one of my students."

Rachel shook her head. "I know. I was a f-friend of Alan's. Dr. Wheaton's."

"Right. Rachel, right?" This time, Judy turned the entire chair around. Her eyes flicked to Dean and Sam in acknowledgement before they returned to Rachel.

"Right."

"Um, can I help you with something?"

"I was hoping. I know you're busy, but I finished my senior essay and now I kind of have time to, you know. Think." Her voice broke. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose and eyes with it. The tissue didn't help, though; if anything, when she pulled it away, her eyes were even more red and watery than before. "Alan was in my life starting from when I was a kid. But I've been so busy this year that I've barely had a chance to see him. I have no idea what was going on in his life before he died."

"Well. Oh." Judy frowned. She smoothed her hands over her tan slacks, face twisted in a grimace. "You were busy. Senior year is. I'm sure he understood. Don't worry about it."

Rachel sniffed and rubbed her nose again. "I'm trying not to. But he was like a grandfather to me."

"I didn't realize you were so close." Judy looked like she couldn't care less. Still, Dean noticed that she kept looking over Rachel's carelessly put together outfit.

Rachel stuck her finger through the hole in the hem of her shirt. "We grew apart when I came her. Stupid, but I didn't want the other students to think I was sucking up or anything." She sniffed again. "I'm so afraid he didn't understand."

Judy's expression softened. "Seriously, I wouldn't worry about it. Alan was fine, up until he got sick."

"Can you tell me? Just a little about what his life was like at the end?" Her voice cracked on the word end. "Just so I know?"

Sam walked up behind Rachel and put his hand on her shoulder. "She's been worried that he might have been depressed before he died. Before he got sick, I mean."

"And you are?"

Sam stuck out his hand. "Sam Winchester. This my brother, Dean. We're friends of Rachel's, here to support her."

"Of course." Judy's voice was exquisitely dry. "Yes, he was depressed before he got sick That's probably why he got sick. Now if you'll exc..."

"Was he acting any different from usual?" asked Dean.

She sighed. "Define different?"

He glanced at Rachel, who had tears leaking out of the corner of her now crimson eyes

Crap. He had no idea this guy meant so much to her.

"Was he complaining of anything strange going on at his house or office?" he clarified. He stepped closer to Rachel and put his hand on her waist.

She turned into him and pressed her face against his arm. Something in his chest softened and then...

And then she wiped her fucking nose on his shirt.

"No," Judy said. Her tone was thoughtful now. "No, nothing strange going on at home. He was staying out later. Going out more, I mean. Lord knows, he wasn't paying as much attention to his classes or research as usual."

"Any idea why?" Dean tried to pull away from Rachel without showing his disgust. Rachel, though, had him by the arm and was resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"No, not really."

"Could it have been depression?" Sam pushed. "Was he distracted around the office?"

"No, not here. Unless she called, of course."

"She?" Rachel said.

"Yeah. The woman Alan was seeing. Katherine."

"I didn't know he was seeing anyone."

"Oh." Judy seemed not to have thought of that. "Well, yeah. He was seeing some woman, a curator or something. I think she was working with that Japanese folk art exhibit at the university museum."

"Were they close?" asked Sam.

"I guess. She hung around here a lot. They were together for about two months or so."

"And then she took off when he got sick?" Dean said.

Judy tilted her head to the right. "You know, I don't know. Alan started getting sick a few weeks before he died. Just little things at first. He was tired more than usual, which was unusual for him." She glanced at Rachel and hesitated.

"I'm fine." Rachel let Dean go and stuffed her tissue into her pocket. "I want to hear."

"Okay. Well, he was tired a lot, and then he caught the cold. Katherine was still around, taking him places. Dinner. She never seemed very concerned about him, though. I thought it was weird, but maybe she didn't realize how sick he was. She was at the funeral."

Rachel blinked. "Really? What did she look like?"

"Oh, she was gorgeous; you probably noticed her. Long, dark blonde hair. It had a lot of red in it, especially when the sun hit. And amazingly blue eyes. She was young, and I honestly thought she was probably a gold-digger or something. You know how Alan had all that money. But she wasn't mentioned in the will and I haven't seen her since, so." She shrugged.

"Japanese folk art," Rachel said thoughtfully.

"Anything else new in his life?" Sam asked. "Any... Was he buying art? Maybe from other countries?"

Dean could see what Rachel meant about making this woman think. When Sam asked the question, she immediately opened her mouth to say no, only to close it without saying anything. Her head, which had been shaking negatively, was now going from side to side in thought.

"I don't think so. Although, you know, last semester he had a student, a freshman, from Japan. Kimi something. She was always hanging around him, in his office, in my office, tagging along after him on campus. I could tell she had a crush on him."

"Did he notice?" said Dean.

"Oh, yeah, of course. He wasn't a bad looking man, as Rachel could probably tell you, and kids were always getting crushes on him. Alan never did anything about it, though."

"I should hope not," Rachel said.

Judy smirked. "Don't act like such a prude, Rachel. You know it happens. And this girl was so persistent, that sometimes I think had she been his type, he would have been interested. He still wouldn't have done anything, but he wouldn't have discouraged her. Anyway, at the end of the year, she gave him a little trinket. A little statue. I thought it was flea market junk, but Alan said it was really quite valuable. "

"Japanese?" Sam said.

"Yeah. Some kind of fox or something. With a bunch of tails."

"Do you know what Kimi's major was?" asked Rachel.

"No clue. I haven't seen he since. She wasn't even at the funeral. I thought that was weird. So many of his student's were." Judy's eyes went past Sam. "Read the sign."

A student stood awkwardly in the door. After a moment, he left.

Judy groaned and ran her hands through her hair. "I am so sick of them. I have papers to write too, you know." She gave Rachel a significant look.

"Of course," Rachel said immediately. "Thank so much. I really appreciate it. It helps to know that he wasn't alone." She smiled. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay." Judy smiled, then said, "And make sure you take time to relax, okay? You're done with college. And you managed to turn in your essay before most of the imbecile's around here. Be proud, girl."

Rachel grinned. "I will. Thanks." She took Dean's hand and led him and Sam out of the office.

"Why the hell didn't you tell us that that dude is like your grandfather?" Dean demanded when they were outside once again.

"He wasn't. Not really."

"You were crying," he said. "You're upset."

Rachel rolled her still-red eyes. "You are so dense. You got it Sam, right?"

"It was an act, right? You should have been an actress. I can't even cry on cue," Sam said.

"I can't either." She pulled her tissue from her pocket and held it to Sam's nose.

Sam winced. His eyes turned red. "Did you soak that in ammonia?"

She grinned and bounced a few times. "I learned it from a novel. Sorry about your shirt, Dean, but I had to wipe my nose somewhere." She bounced all around them like she was Tigger or something.

He grabbed her. "Stop it."

"Sorry. It's just... that was fun." She bounced again.

"So the clothes were all about making you look vulnerable and upset."

"Worked, didn't it? Like I can't even concentrate enough to put on real clothes."

"Understated, too," Sam remarked. "If you hadn't been wearing a nice outfit right before, I probably wouldn't have noticed."

Dean let Rachel go since she still seemed determined to bounce. "So what did we learn. He had a girlfriend. Big deal."

"Too bad we didn't get a last name," Sam said. "She didn't know it?"

"Just would have said if she knew. She's very thorough like that. I need coffee." She started off towards the coffee cart.

"I don't think you do," Dean called as he and his brother trailed after her. "This is the reason we work alone, by the way," he told Sam. "Do you think she's high?"

"Maybe?"

They joined Rachel at the coffee cart. "So what have we learned?" she asked. She had a tall coffee in hand and was pouring four packs of sugar in.

"He was popular with the ladies," Dean said.

"I don't know if we can call the Japanese thing a pattern, but it's definitely worth looking into," Sam said. "It's a place to start anyway. We can hit the museum and ask about Katherine."

"How can we find out about Kimi?" asked Dean.

"Hack into the school database," Rachel answered. She was dumping her fifth cream into the coffee. "It'll take me a bit to access the right records, but I've had a tap on the files for awhile now."

"Why, you bad, bad girl," he leered.

She rolled her eyes. "My father wanted me to do it. As an exercise. I haven't done anything with it."

"Uh-huh."

Sam shook his head at them. "I don't think we have enough to go on with this Japanese angle to follow up with the other deaths. I hope it'll shed light because, odds are, whatever is doing this is gone now. Onto its next victim."

"Hey beautiful!" A man suddenly appeared out of the throng of students around the coffee cart.

Rachel barely had a chance to turn before she was in his arms being thoroughly kissed by him.

Dean's stomach plummeted. He couldn't say if it was because the man was stunning or that he held Rachel with a tightness that screamed of possession or because Rachel's eyes were closed and her mouth worked under his and it was the hottest thing Dean had ever seen in his life, but, standing there, watching her kiss this man was like riding a rollercoaster without a seatbelt.

Sam sort of punched Dean on his arm. When he looked at his brother, Sam said "Sorry," under her breath.

Before Dean could question whether Sam had known or not, the guy released Rachel. He kept an arm around her, though. She was breathless, flushed pink, eyes glazed.

"Where have you been all morning, Rachel? I've been looking," the guy said. "Are you all right? You look like you've been crying."

"Um. Um. Allergies. I was showing my friends around. Kit, this is Sam and Dean." Rachel gestured vaguely towards the Winchesters.

"Hey," Sam said, all friendly and stuff. He held out his hand, and the other guy took it. They said something, exchanging pleasantries and all that, but Dean didn't hear a word. He was too busy looking at Rachel.

She'd looked disheveled before what with the sloppy clothes and the messy hair. Now, though, she looked ravished. Her lips were swollen and pink. Her face was the same rose colored as her shirt. Kit had threaded his fingers in her hair, pulling more out of the braid, so it framed her face. There was a spark in her eyes that hadn't been there before, and a sort of animation that Dean recognized as arousal.

Rachel lifted a shaky hand and pushed hair back from her face. Her eyes met Dean's. Her already pink face turned red. She averted her eyes.

"So, how long are you two staying?" asked Kit. He looped his arm around Rachel's waist and looked at Dean.

Dean crossed his arms and stared back.

"Well, we hope to be able to stay past the graduation ceremony," Sam answered after an uneasy pause. "But work might take us away."

"What do you do?"

"We're freelance writers. We travel the country, look for stories, and send them in to whatever publication we think would be interested."

Rachel raised her eyebrow, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. Obviously, Sam had given her an idea.

Better make sure she didn't go anywhere with it.

"Rachel met us when we were doing a story a few months ago," said Dean. "We let her tag along, but it was pretty obvious the life wasn't for her."

Ouch. If looks could kill.

"Well, of course not," Kit said smoothly. He brushed his thumb over Rachel's cheek. "My Rachel is a scholar, aren't you? Destined for a life of study and contemplation."

She smiled at him. "Something like that. I wouldn't mind a little adventure, though. A little danger."

Kit kissed the tip of her nose. "Of course. And your life will be exciting. But the life of an itinerate writer isn't for you. Unless that's what you want."

Rachel hesitated. "I never thought of it before. It might be fun."

He didn't look happy at that. But he only said, "It could be. And it's something to look into. But, right now, the question isn't relevant." He turned to Dean and Sam. His eyes passed over Dean dismissively, but when they looked at his brother, they seemed to linger. "Where did you study?" he asked.

"Stanford." His forehead creased and Dean could see him wondering, as Dean did himself, how he'd known Sam and not Dean had gone to college.

"Stanford. I was pre-law."

"And you decided not to follow through?"

"Life events took me elsewhere." He and Kit stared at each other for a moment. Then Sam shook his head. "Well, Dean and I were going to go check out the museum. Did you want to come."

Kit made a face. "I was hoping to take you out to lunch." His words included everyone; his eyes showed the only person in the world was the girl in his arms.

"No, thanks. We have work to do." Dean stressed the word "we".

Rachel scowled at him, catching his meaning. "Fine. We could use some time alone, anyway. Do you want to meet up for dinner."

Dean opened his mouth to tell her they'd probably be busy, but Sam intercepted and said, "Yeah, we'd like that. Do you think that, maybe tonight, we can look into that other thing we were going to?"

Oh, right. She had already hacked the system; they still needed her. No reason to reinvent the wheel.

"Yeah, of course. You have the key?"

Sam nodded and put his hand on Dean's shoulder, tugging him away. "We'll see you both later. It was nice to meet you, Kit."

Kit's smile at Sam was genuine, but when he looked at Dean, it turned insincere. Dean couldn't even muster a fake smile.

"You knew about this?" he asked when they were out of sight of the happy couple.

Sam hitched his left shoulder. "She told me she was seeing someone. She didn't tell me how intense he was."

"He was intense, wasn't he." Dean cracked his knuckles. "I don’t like him."

"Of course you don't," his brother snorted.

"He's a jerk. Telling her what to do like that. What an asshole."

Sam shrugged noncommittally.

"I wonder how long they've been together."

"A couple weeks. Not long."

Dean nodded. "So they haven't slept together yet." Unless that box of condoms was a refresher pack.

Sam just sighed.

"You should tell her you like her," he said after a moment. "Flat out, no games, no evasions, no being cute. Just tell her how you feel."

"I tell her how I feel all the time. She's annoying, a moron, too smart for anyone's good, an okay fighter, and kinda not too bad looking."

He rolled his eyes. "And you like her. Tell her that."

Dean punched him in the shoulder. "Dude, you are such a girl. Come on. We've got a job to do."