"So I have a few days off," Lizzy explains while eyeing the coffee table that's now covered in used plates, dirty utensils, and empty beer bottles. "You fine young hunters have anything lined up that I can help out with?"

"Not as of right now, but I can always call Bobby and ask," Sam says, stacking dinner plates. "See what he says. If not I can pull out the laptop and get looking."

"Good, because I'm fucking itching to get out and kick some ass," Lizzy laughs as she puts her feet up on the couch and relaxes.

"You sure you want to do that?" Dean questions her, standing to help Sam.

"Uh, yeah!" Lizzy excitedly says. "Haven't hit the road and ganked some evil bitches in a wicked long time. I need my fix!"

"Ok, it's just after getting pummeled earlier today I thought you'd want to take it easy. Maybe sharpen up those skills a little before heading back out there," Dean remarks with his best patronizing grin.

"Oh, fuck you dude!" she yells to him, Dean smiling wider at her reaction. "I musta hit you in the head harder than I thought. You clearly have memory loss."

"Either that or you're just misremembering, which I'm pretty sure you are." Dean laughs as a couch pillow sails through the air at him while walking out of the living room. Making his way to the kitchen, he puts the items he's holding down on the counter by the sink, Sam right behind him.

"She killed you, didn't she?" Sam asks once the two of them were alone in the kitchen. He only assumed Lizzy would only be so adamant about sparring with Dean if she was better than good enough to.

"No way," Dean answers, only partially lying. They silently settle into a job each, Sam washing and Dean drying dishes. They said they'd clean up since she made dinner. Seemed only fair.

"Be honest," Sam asks of him, tight lipped smile in place as he hands over a now clean plate.

"Dude," Dean lowers his voice, not wanting her to hear him admit to anything. "She's fucking crazy. I mean, every time I thought I had the upper hand, she crushed me. We knew she was good, but she's beyond that, Sammy. She's down right awesome."

"Good," Sam says with a wider grin, relieved to hear that. He'll worry less about her now when she isn't with them. "So basically you're telling me you got your ass handed to you by a girl?" He huffs a laugh at Dean's expense.

"Whoa. First of all, no. I won that fight in the end, fair and square, just ask her." Dean yanks the next plate out of Sam's hand with his growing frustration. "Secondly, she is not just some girl, alright. Getting through a fight with her is like trying to get through watching Superman IV… fucking impossible. And torturous."

"Jesus, she really did a number on you." Sam laughs louder this time, knowing how much his brother hates that movie. "Wish I'd been there to see it."

"Yeah, ah, and third of all, she'd hammer your ass into next week with a hand tied behind her back! Don't ever piss her off, Sammy. She'll drop you."

"So angry," Sam comments with Dean heated words.

"You go ten rounds with all hundred and twenty pounds of her and see how good you feel coming out the other end," Dean quips, drying the last of the dishes and hanging the towel on the oven handle. "I'm just saying, we shouldn't underestimate the advantage of having her around."

"Guess not," Sam smiles, thinking how good it is to have Lizzy there to reminding Dean that he isn't invincible. He dries his hands and pulls his phone out of his back pocket to call Bobby while running to the car to grab his laptop. Time to find some work.


"Looks like it's been pretty quiet lately," Sam announces from one end of the couch while still staring at his computer in his lap. "No signs of demon activity, no omens of importance I can see."

"That's good for once," Dean comments from the other end of the couch while never looking away from the episode of Dr. Sexy he put on. He missed the past few episodes so he's trying to catch himself up. Luckily, Lizzy DVR-ed the last few so he could watch them eventually.

"This show sucks, dude," Lizzy butts in from her place sitting on the floor in front of the couch. She'd never bothered with the series before since it looked so totally corn-ball and now she's glad she hadn't.

"It's a guilty pleasure," he quickly rebuts, lightly pushing her shoulder and getting an annoyed look in response. She takes a big swig from her beer bottle, hoping the alcohol will make the terrible show a little better.

"Yeah, just a typical smattering of cranky U.F.O. sightings and one possible vengeful spirit," Sam keeps explaining, handing the laptop to Dean. "Here, check this out."

Dean pauses the show and finally looks away to take the computer, barely scanning it while Sam keeps explaining. He takes a sip from his beer as he gets ready to read.

"Up in Concrete, Washington, ah, eye witness reports of a ghost haunting the showers of a woman's health facility."

Dean sputters and nearly chokes on his sip when he hears the news but Sam ignores him. He saw the reaction coming a mile away.

"The victim claims the ghost threw her down a flight of stairs," he says while watching Dean close his laptop and hand it hastily back over without looking at it once. "I can see you're very interested."

"Women, showers," he says to his brother. "We've got to save these people."

"Already helping out one woman in a shower today wasn't enough for you," Lizzy laughs as she turns to look at him, reminding him of what they did earlier that day.

"Never," he smiles in return. "Hey, and since when did ghosts become peeping Toms?"

"I've never heard of it before," Sam admits. "Think they finally smartened up? Figured out how to abuse what they can do instead of be pissed off assholes?"

"I know that's what I'd do if I were a ghost," Dean smirks before nudging Lizzy on the shoulder again. "You up for a cross-country? Washington ain't close."

"Well shit, I guess it sucks to be you two then," Lizzy grins, excited to hit the road. "You'll be stuck with me for even longer that you'd hoped."

"Yeah, I don't think we'll have a problem with that," Dean tells her.

"Then we can leave tomorrow morning. I'll call Mitch back once we hit the road to postpone."

Sam nods his head, happy to have a third person to diffuse the growing tension between him and Dean. She is good at that.

"Sweet," Dean smiles as he pushes play on Dr. Sexy. "Better kill these episodes tonight then."

"This show's a full hour?" Lizzy asks with a whiney voice.

"Unfortunately yes," Sam answers while returning to his computer, hoping to block out the crappy, melodramatic acting.

"And how many do you need to watch?" she asks Dean.

"Two more… after this," he responds, barely paying attention to her.

"Fuck me," Lizzy complains and exasperatedly lays across the living room floor, arm dramatically draped over her forehead.

"If you want to come with us," Sam looks down at her, "You better get real good at blocking this kinda thing out."

"Awesome," she sarcastically remarks. Looking up from the floor, she watches Dean's concentrated face as he takes in the dramatic show. Her heart always swells at simple times like this, the times when she could see Dean be truly relaxed, no worry, anxiety, fear, or pain can be seen in expression. He never looked more beautiful to her than in the very rare and very fleeting moments like these. She's so glad that for once when he leaves her house tomorrow, he isn't leaving her behind. She's coming with. No tearful goodbye to the guy who makes her life not only bearable but completely worthwhile and honestly fulfilling.

Maybe this whole soul mate thing wasn't as scary and awful as they initially thought. Right now, it seemed pretty damn good.


THE END