𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖘 || 𝘥. 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

𝟎𝟎𝟔 ⌖ flowers for the dead

a/n: this chapter made my beta reader cry. whether that's from the content or the grammatical errors she had to tear through... who knows. good luck!

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palo alto, california
nov. 2, 2005 // early morning

"𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄."

Dean was sure of it now — Fitz was an absurdly light sleeper. The words were barely out of his mouth when she sat up and began combing her hair with her fingers, a hairtie between her teeth. He turned down the music as they pulled into the back road behind Sam's apartment. He'd insisted he goin that way, since the front desk receptionist clocked out at midnight. Always so considerate, this guy.

He saw Fitz's head pop into the rearview mirror as she checked her appearance, thumbing at the dark circles under her eyes and the faint bruise on her jaw from Dean's elbow. It was a faint yellow-green now: almost a memory. The brown Winnie the Pooh jacket sat folded in her lap, but she still wore his dad's shirt and flannel — there was an unwanted twist in his stomach at the sight of it. An intrusion.

That's what she was, after all. She seemed as aware of it as he did, but that was the job. And as far as intrusions went, at least she was a competent one.

"Okay, I'm good," she exhaled. If she'd noticed Dean eyeing her, she didn't address it.

"Are you coming in?" Sam asked, his own duffel sitting in his lap as he tried to force a silver khopesh beneath the zipper.

"Yeah. I'm gonna give her the jacket."

"But I thought..."

"Changed my mind." Fitz fondly rubbed the stitches of the bear's honey pot. "Jess gave me a gift before I left. I'd feel shitty if I didn't do the same."

Dean saw Sam smile at the answer — one of his real ones, all pleasant surprise and dimples. Then the both of them got out of the car, and Sam stole a glance back at Dean, considering. "Maybe I can meet up with you guys later, huh?"

"Yeah, alright." Dean offered a noncommittal shrug, like he didn't give a damn whether Sam dropped by or not. It couldn't be further from the truth, surely, but Dean couldn't say it. Sam turned to walk away, but Dean realized he wasn't quite finished. "Sam, hold on." Dean swallowed hard. "Keep in touch, would ya?"

Another genuine smile, the sides of his eyes crinkling. "Yeah. I will."

Dean watched the two of them descend the stairwell, his arm resting on the open window. As soon as Sam's head disappeared into shadow, he turned the music back up and tried to ignore the fact that Sam never looked happier than he did when he was leaving his family.

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♫ || the great gig in the sky ► pink floyd

The younger Winchester could hear Motorhead blaring, reverberating down the concrete stairwell as he unlocked the gate. Fitz leaned against the wall behind him, pulling John's flannel tighter as she tuned into Dean's music. She was still as inscrutable as the first day he met her, but she seemed relieved. Serene.

He wasn't sure he'd seen that look on her face before. He didn't know he'd never see it again.

The iron gate swung open, and Sam held it open for her as she stepped in. They ascended the stairwells in relative silence, their footfalls clanking on the old, rattling steel. Once they reached the third floor, Sam switched keys and unlocked the apartment door.