The Dark and the Light (Book Three: Supernatural fanfic)

The One You've Been Waiting For

It was morning in the kitchen of the Bunker.

I was trying to learn how to cook, but it was harder done than set out to do.

Sam walked in with grocery bags, setting them down on the counter across from me, chuckling in amusement. "Having difficulty?"

"A little bit," I answered.

Sam walked around the counter to help me.

I looked at him, smiling a small smile.

Sam chuckled.

Dean walked in, holding a tablet. "Aren't you two just adorable?"

"Hey," I told him. "Got everything on the list."

"And this is never going to stop being weird," Dean told me.

"What?" I asked.

"You, acting like a normal, everyday housewife," Dean answered.

I gave him a look, tilting my head. "So, what are you thinking, scrambled or fried?"

Dean pretended to think, nodding. "And it gets even weirder." I scoffed in amusement, shaking my head, looking away. "I'm not really hungry right now."

"Y--you're not that..." Sam trailed off, taking out a box of pie, opening it to show us. "How about some pie?"

Dean didn't look up. "Maybe later."

Sam looked up in surprise, exchanging a look with me, looking at Dean. "All right, dude, something's wrong."

"No," Dean told us.

Sam sighed. "I get it. If Mom--"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, okay?" Dean asked. "Look, Mom needed her space, and I told you I'm cool with it."

"But are you really?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't answer, changing the subject, handing the tablet to me. "Happened last night."

I read from the tablet. "Killed in mystery fire."

"Mm-hmm," Dean answered, looking at the pie. 

"Mystery fire?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, the kind that doesn't burn anything but the bodies," I answered. "So, spontaneous combustion." I looked at Dean. "What are you thinking? Uh, Witch? Dragon?"

"Maybe," Dean answered. "Check it out. The old lady? Loaded. I'm talking Scrooge McDuck swimming in pools of money. So, what's a lady like that doing at some crap store at 2:00 AM?"

"Well, it says it was an antique shop," I told them.

"So?" Dean asked.

"Uh, rich people like antiquing," I answered. "I don't know."

"I say we check it out," Dean told us.

"Uh..." Sam trailed off, sighing. "All right. In the meantime, you sure you don't wanna talk about--"

"No," Dean answered.

"Dean, it's called sublimation," Sam told him.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it's kinda my thing."

Dean walked out, leaving.

Sam and I exchanged a look, sighing.

Sam wrapped an arm around me. "Call you from the road."

I nodded in agreement. "Yeah." Sam looked after Dean, sighing. "I know you're worried about him. What's he's going through with your mother gone. I know you're worried about Mary, too. Just give them a little time. They'll come around."