Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny
Chapter Title: The Consequences Of Our Actions
Author: Restive Nature
Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.
Story Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Genre: Crossover
Type: Romance, Angst
Pairing: Sam/ Max
Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.
Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age
Feedback: Always welcome!
Distribution: Ask first, please
A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what might have happened.
Chapter Nine
The Consequences Of Our Actions
The tapping of the blunt, eraser tipped edge of the pencil in Dean's hand was erratic and annoying. At least John found it to be so. Dean probably found it soothing, or was so immersed in his appointed task that he didn't even realize that he was doing it. It was probably the latter, since after listening for a few minutes, John couldn't recognize a discernible song amidst the soft arrhythmic thumps. And when Dean was agitated about something, he usually found comfort in music or the car. But at the same time, John also noticed that he hadn't seen Dean turn a page in the book he was pouring over for quite a while. John snuck a glance at the pad of legal paper wedged under Dean's right arm, the partial victim of the pencil that his son held. As he'd thought, there was nothing written there. So what was so absorbing in that book? John watched Dean's face out of the corner of his eye. It was amusing, watching his son's face when Dean thought no one was looking. And he was able to make a few assumptions while he was at it. Dean wasn't agitated in the usual sense. Nor was he completely absorbed by the text. No, John knew that look. His son was sulking.
"You could have gone too, you know," he announced quietly. Dean started and threw his father a look, though John's eyes were locked on the book he was reading through. Dean threw down the pencil from his hand.
"No, I said I'd help you and I will," Dean asserted and John grunted.
"Yeah, because the big scary books are going to attack me at any second," John snorted. He slammed shut the book he'd been looking over and rapped his knuckles against the hard binding. "Bad book! Bad!" He was pleased to see his son's lips twitching. John leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Dean, if you want to go swimming with Sam and Max, then I don't mind," John assured him.
Dean measured his father's sincerity with a long glance and them slammed his own book shut and jumped up from the table. "See ya!"
John laughed heartily at the young man's antics. Dean scooped up his wallet, keys, the bag that contained his swim gear and was out the door in a flash. John set about flipping through his book again, trying to find where he'd left off. Of course, the only downside to sending Dean off, was that John was now left stranded, since Sam and Max had borrowed the truck, with Max's bike still in the back. But hopefully, he wouldn't have to go anywhere in the next few hours.
*****
Dean scanned the parking lot of the recreation center in town. For a small town, the place was huge. But then, according to Max, the complex housed several different amenities, aside from the swimming pool. He pulled down a long lane of parked cars, looking for a vacant spot to park the Impala in. It wasn't odd that he hadn't spotted the truck. The parking lot was almost completely full. Dean finally caught a spot as some teen pulled out and headed off. This got him fairly close to the main entrance. After gathering his essentials and locking doors, Dean ambled on in.
Harsh sounds assaulted his ears the moment he opened the steel fire safety security doors. This brought him to a foyer with a sign, directing visitors. The pool was to his left and that was were Dean's interest lay. He headed through the doors in that direction and he could immediately smell the vague scent of chlorine in the air. He approached a booth where a young lady, maybe seventeen sat behind the Plexiglas partition. There was no line and she smiled politely as Dean got closer.
"Hi," she greeted. "Swimming?"
"Yep," Dean nodded, setting his bag on the narrow counter, starting to reach for his wallet.
"Okay," the girl murmured, gesturing to her right, where the pool was visible. "There's a closed session for seniors right now," she explained, gesturing once to the sign located above and behind her head. "Free swim is from ten until four."
"Oh shoot," Dean grimaced. "I was running late and I was gonna meet my little brother and sister here. Maybe you saw 'em?" But the girl was already shaking her head.
"I just came on shift a few minutes ago." Dean sighed at that. "But, they might be up at the concession," she offered, gesturing to her left at a ramp that led past her booth. "Or the library." She grinned at Dean's surprised look. "Or they could be in the lounge, or the rink, or the gym. But not the auxiliary room. No one is using that room until tonight."
"A pool and a rink?" She looked pleased at having surprised Dean.
"Yup! Installed the rink about ten years ago when people were expanding the WHL. Got the rink and a team. The boys had an open practice this morning."
"WHL?" Dean asked.
"Western Hockey League," the girl explained. "It's the last step before National around here."
Dean grinned charmingly, very obviously aware that the girl seemed to be an avid fan of the sport. He picked up his bag. "Well, I'll try your suggestions, see if I can find the kids and I'll see you again at ten." He threw her a generous wink, appreciated the blush in her cheeks and then headed up the ramp. The concession area wasn't large. There were two large tables with hard plastic orange chairs surrounding them. The windows on the far side were lined with smaller tables, probably so people could enjoy the full view of the pool the windows afforded.
Dean could smell the overlaying scents of beef, cheese and grease. He sniffed appreciatively, deciding he'd stop back later and scanned the seating area. The only occupants were two middle aged women, sitting in the corner at one table, each with a cup of coffee before her. Given that they were watching the seniors and wearing similar nurse type outfits offset by cardigans, Dean figured they were probably nursing home workers.
So, not seeing his siblings, Dean continued own the opposite ramp, leading away from where he'd come. The library loomed before him and he gave a rueful chuckle. This was probably where he should have checked first. He tugged gently at the door and it glided open. He ducked into the large area and glanced around. Periodicals to the left, check out to the right. Straight down the center were several rows of computers. The bookshelves lined the outer walls and two thirds of the building. Walking directly towards the computers, Dean saw that they only went about halfway through. After that there were armchairs and sofas where people could comfortably read. It was quiet, as expected, with the barely there hum of machines, the occasional rustle of a turning page and whispered conversations. Dean wandered through, checking in each aisle, even sticking his head in the children's room, but found no trace of Max or Sam.
He left the library, checking his watch as he did so. There was less than half an hour until the pool opened to the public, so they couldn't be far. But instead of heading back up the ramp, Dean veered to the left, following the broad hall. At the far wall were steps leading gown to a sunken lounge. The carpeted area contained circular couches, surrounded by planters. Ferns and various other types of foliage filled the containers, gracing the air with a humid sweetness. Unable to see clearly each seat, Dean as able to discern bodies lounging in those seats. So he jumped down the few steps and began casing the area as discreetly as possible. But the only pair of feet that he found, belonged to two blond females, sitting, gossiping. With a disgruntled snort, Dean headed up, out of the lounge at the other end.
The door to the rink was his next stop, but he was waylaid from entering by a sudden outpouring of teens and a few adults. He scanned the group, hearing snatches of comments about the hockey practice. But again, there was no sign of Sam or Max. once the majority of people had cleared away, Dean approached the doors, catching it as a couple were exiting.
"Excuse me?" Dean asked as politely as he could. Both man and woman paused, waiting expectantly. "Is practice over?"
"A few minutes ago," the man confirmed as he buttoned up his overcoat. Dean's face crumpled with frustration.
"Oh don't worry," the woman interjected with a smile. "There's a home game tonight."
"Oh no," Dean smiled, "it's not that. I'm trying to find my sister and my brother and so far, they're nowhere around."
"Oh well, there's still some kids in there, waiting for the Zamboni to clear the ice," the man explained, putting his arm around the woman. She smiled.
"Maybe they decided to rent some skates," she offered.
"Yeah, thanks," Dean nodded. He stepped back, still holding the door open so that the couple could get by him. Once they were clear of the door, Dean stepped through, immensely glad that he was still wearing his coat and glad that the bleachers to his left were closed off by a cement wall with a red door marked Authorized Personnel Only. He headed right and quickly checked out the benches where some kids sat, lacing up their skates, but no luck. He headed back towards the raised seating, taking the steps two at a time. There were still people there all right, but as Dean scanned the rows upon rows of seats, he could see that it was mainly adults. Probably parents of the hockey players, discussing whatever was consuming their tiny lives. Growling a little, and trying to tamp down his growing irritation with his siblings disappearing act, Dean turned to leave. But then, after all, there was been no contingency plan made or discussed of where they'd go if the pool was closed and technically, it wasn't their fault that the complex was so large. The last place left to look was the gym.
As he passed through another set of doors, a sign informed Dean that the locker rooms and rest rooms were located to his left, down the hallway. That was good to know of course, but he kept going to the main door of the gym. Again he was surprised. He supposed that he had figured the gym to be a workout place, but the squeak of sneakers over waxed floors and the thudding of balls told him that it was more of an actual school type gymnasium. Two courts, if the four basketball hoops and several pick-up games were any indication. Again and again Dean perused faces, looking for familiar clothing, listening for familiar voices amidst the cacophony of shouts, hoots, balls and sneakers. He even went so far as to walk to the other end of the gym and still nothing. He did discover that the restrooms were connected to the gym and just on the off chance, he ducked into the men's room, but it was deserted.
Really feeling aggravated by then, Dean gave up the search. According to his watch, he still had twenty minutes before the pool opened up. Shifting the bag that he'd been carrying all this time, Dean decided to head back to the concession and pass the time with a cup of coffee. As he approached the ramp, the girl in the ticket booth waved.
"Any luck?" she called and Dean shook his head in the negative.
"Absolutely none," he growled good-naturedly enough.
"Well," she began in a conciliatory fashion, "it's a big place. You could have missed them through simple bad luck."
"Yeah, knowing my luck, they've been sitting up there the whole time with no clue I've been running all over looking for them," Dean shook his head again.
"Oh probably," the girl nodded. "See you soon then?"
"You betcha," Dean tapped the counter with his knuckles and resumed his trek up the ramp. The concession was a little more full than it had been before, though those two women from before were still at their same table. Dean joined the short line forming at the counter. Once it was his turn, he ordered a black coffee and had it in moments. He was able to snag a seat along about the middle of the Plexiglas partition. It afforded him an excellent view of the swimming complex. On the other side, directly below where he sat, there was a kiddies pool, with a slide in the center and lifeguard towers at either end. Past that and to the left as one looked out from the concession, Dean could see a large hot tub, back in a tiled nook. Immediately beyond that, heading away from Dean, was a sauna room. Two doorways marked the exit of the changing rooms and beside them, a fire exit.
The main swimming pool, complete with its aerobicizing seniors in the shallow end, looked to be slightly larger than Dean was used to. His eyes followed along the length of it, noting that again, there were two lifeguard towers, opposite of one another, where the deep end began. There was no diving board, but he could certainly live with that.
And best of all, in Dean's opinion, was a matching dining area on the other side of the concession kitchen. Having checked out the main areas of interest and not having the desire to watch the seniors prancing about in organized fun, Dean turned his attention to the crowd seated around him. Sam and Max still hadn't shown up. Of course, it occurred to Dean that the pair of them might not even still be in the building. Maybe they had decided to go and get some breakfast elsewhere. Or maybe they were driving around, checking out the town. Hell, for all Dean knew, they were back at the motel, having a laugh with Dad over missing Dean at the complex. Letting his mind wander, the time passed. Finally, he noticed that the crowd was beginning to thin out. So he finished the last gulp of coffee, stood, pitched the Styrofoam cup in the trash can and followed after a group of kids. He joined the line that had formed for the pool and even then, he still didn't see them.
As he made his way fairly quickly up to the booth, he had his money ready. "Well, looks like just one today," he offered teasingly to, as the name tag she was finally wearing, proclaimed her Allison.
"You still haven't found them!" she laughed as she took his money. Dean shook his head as she stamped his hand. "Change for a locker?" she asked quickly.
"No, I'm good."
"Well have fun anyway," she tilted her head to the side sympathetically.
"Oh I intend to," he grinned and moved away. He was changed and showered within a few minutes. His gear was stowed safely in a locker, the key pinned to the side of his long baggy swimming suit. He emerged from the changing room, the smell of chlorine tickling his nose even more than before. He debated his options for a moment before he decided on the hot tub first. He was there to relax after all. There were a few teenagers already occupying the area, but they shuffled around so that Dean could fit in as well. He ignored the girls checking him out, instinct had told him that they were definitely too young. Instead, he read the sign, proclaiming that there was a fifteen minute time limit for each use of the hot tub. And that made sense, since staying in too long in the heat could be dangerous and disorienting for the body.
Dean marked the time on the overlarge clock, positioned beside the sign. He rolled his shoulders a few times, mentally willing the tension away. And then found that if he shifted a little, he had a pretty good view of the pool. He couldn't see the changing room doorways, but he wasn't overly concerned. Sam and Max would show up eventually. He gave himself over to watching the various people filling up the pool. It was mostly kids, though here and there a few parents were escorting toddlers to the kiddy pool. Some got in, others sat at the edge, dangling their legs while their children played.
It was Max he saw first. He recognized the wild print of her two piece bathing suit. She was about halfway down the pol before she found a place to set her towel on the bench on the far wall. She laid the folded towel against the wall, nestling it back out of the way of inadvertent sprayage, in the way she always did. Turning, she eased herself to a sitting position, dangling her legs in the water. Dean frowned, recognizing that there was something off about her. He looked her over carefully. It was difficult to discern from the distance between them. Dean leaned forward, ignoring the twitterings of the females around him, silently speculating with looks and gestures about his behavior.
Had Max hurt herself? It almost looked like she had a bruise on her chest. Dean tried to remember any instant where she'd been fighting or sparring, when she might have been hurt, but nothing came to mind. And even as Dean watched, some guy stopped to talk to her. Dean scowled as he could see her leaning away from the guy. She definitely wanted nothing to do with the guy and if he knew what was good for him... and then Max slipped into the pool. Dean was about ready to head over and intervene as the guy crouched down, but then Sam was there. Dean grinned as the guy backed off quickly, holding his hands out peaceably. Sam scowled at the guy until he'd moved completely away. Max must have said something to Sam, because his brother's attention immediately refocused on her. She'd waded back to the edge of the pool. Sam crouched down, smiling at her, some joke or something passing between them. Dean's eyes flickered toward the clock. He still had a few minutes. But when his eyes moved back to track his siblings, what he saw made him feel as if he'd been sucker punched.
No!
Nononononono! His brother could not be kissing his sister! No, there had to be something else... but then, several things began to fall into place and Dean sucked in a huge breath, yet still felt breathless.
"Oh hell no!" he muttered, clambering up out of the hot tub. The teenaged girls giggles were ignored, as was one's admonition that he had to shower again before he got into the pool.
Dean made a beeline straight to where Sam was now sitting, as Max had, dangling his legs in the pool. Max had swam away, flitting already into the deep end. Dean caught up to Sam, just as his little brother was sliding into the pool. Dean reached out, snagging the top of Sam's ear, wrenching it back, making Sam yelp in pain and surprise. His head tilted back to see his fuming brother standing over him.
"Dean! What are you doing?" he growled, trying to get away from the burning pain in his ear. But each attempt was futile, as Dean refused to let go.
"You get your ass up here, right now!" Dean hissed, tugging upwards again.
"Hey!" the lifeguard called, moving towards them. "No roughhousing!" Dean's attention may have been diverted for a moment, but the pressure on his ear didn't lessen and Sam was forced to climb out of the pool or lose it.
"Back off,": Dean warned the lifeguard quietly. "This is between my brother and me." The man, probably younger than Dean and unused to having his authority challenged, quailed under the glare.
"Well," he hesitated and then stiffened his spine, "take it to the locker room."
"Oh I fully intend to," Dean informed the guard silkily and then turned back to Sam, releasing his brother's ear. "March!" Dean ordered, pointing towards the changing room. Sam, who'd been rapidly calculating what could have possibly pissed Dean off to this extent, had come up with some answers. And he had the dreadfully horrible feeling that he knew exactly what the cause was.
Each step Sam took felt as if her were moving closer to his own execution. They reached the locker room much, much sooner than Sam wanted. Dean shoved his brother to a corner, his eyes blazing with a fury that Sam had never seen before. And Sam knew that his only chance of scraping himself out of this mess, was to go on the offensive. "Dean whatever you are thinking-!"
"What I'm thinking?" Dean snapped. "Yeah, I don't want to be thinking it at all. Too bad I can't ignore the really obvious evidence right in front of me that my brother is screwing our little-!" His eyes rolled wildly and Dean paled. He glanced around at the men and boys glancing curiously at them as they moved back through the locker rooms and showers.
"Dean don't," Sam warned. "It's not like that."
"Oh? So you haven't slept with Max? Who is only fifteen, by the way!"
"I know that," Sam fired back.
"Then what the hell were you thinking?" Dean demanded, striving to keep his voice quiet. This was most definitely something he didn't want broadcasted.
"I'm thinking that I love her," Sam defended, sounding amazingly sure of himself. "And she loves me too."
"Oh my God," Dean groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Sam..." he began, "you guys are too young-!"
"No we're not!" Sam retorted hotly.
"Yes you are!" Dean insisted, grabbing Sam's arm, his fingers as tight as pincers. "Have you thought about what happens in a few months when you're an adult and she's still a kid?" That barb hit its mark and Sam paled. "You haven't, have you?"
"Actually Dean, I have," Sam gulped. It was only one problem in the myriad that overwhelmed his mind in those ever increasing moments of despair that this relationship would actually work out. "Sometimes its all I think about. But Dean, I can't just turn my feelings off and pretend that this never happened."
"I'm not sayin'..." Dean sighed and rubbed his finger and thumb tiredly against his closed eyes. "Sam..."
"No Dean," Sam pressed on. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way. But Max and I know that this isn't some fairy tale where everything will be perfect just because we want it to be or because we say so." That seemed to take a little steam out of Dean.
"Sam," he began again, but his younger brother cut him off once more.
"We should get back out there. Max'll be wondering what happened." And with that, he threw off his brother's hand and walked down the hall. Dean sagged against the wall, his head thumping softly against the unyielding structure behind him. Maybe the rhythmic effort was some unconscious attempt to lull his mind into believing he could go back in time and erase this whole thing from his mind. But hey, while he was at it, why not go back and just prevent this from ever happening. Finally realizing that he was just stalling for time, Dean forced himself to follow after his brother. But Sam was nowhere in sight. Instead, Max was waiting for him, seated on the bench, her arms and legs crossed, though her face seemed placid. She stood when she saw him emerge and Dean had to fight the urge to duck back into the changing room. Bot there was no way he was going to wimp out in front of a fifteen year old girl.
"So?" she asked in a low voice. Dean was glad to see that she'd wrapped her towel around herself, covering up what was obviously a hickey on her chest. "One to ten on the freak-o-meter?"
"Twenty," he replied automatically, staring at a point somewhere over her left shoulder.
"Uh huh," she sighed, trying to be understanding, which for Dean, was worse than if she'd suddenly burst into tears. "Well, Sam has gone to get us something to drink. Why don't we go sit down and talk reasonably about this?" Dean blinked at her.
"Reasonably?" he demanded. "I'm sorry, but reason flew out the window when you two decided to turn out family into the hillbillies from hell."
"And that might be true if Sam and I were actually blood kin, but we're not," Max scoffed.
"Yeah well, that aside, Sam should know better-!"
"Don't!" Max snapped, her face tightening with anger. "Don't you dare blame Sam for what happened. You know what... if anyone's to blame? Try Dad. Or yourself for that matter." And with that she stalked away. Dean shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing and it took him a moment to catch up with her, both literally and figuratively.
"What the hell does that mean?" he demanded, catching her elbow and yanking her around to face him.
"What do you think it means Dean?" she answered harshly. "Dad has been dragging us around for the past few years, putting up walls between us and everyone we meet, but for a few examples. Anytime a boy ever tried to look at me whoa! Instant bodyguards!"
"We were just trying to watch out for you," Dean defended softly.
"And you've done an excellent job. Bravo!" Max mockingly clapped her hands, but then continued on before he could get a word in. "But seriously Dean, I tried to tell Dad about this years ago." Shocked, Dean mouthed the word, gaping at her. "Yes years! But Dad didn't want to hear it Dean. And you! What? I follow your advice and now you're burning me for it?"
"I never told you to-!" Dean stopped himself before the words escaped, conscious of all the curious ears around them.
"Actually you did Dean, in your own roundabout way," Max taunted. "And if you hadn't told Sam to keep after me, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. If you'd just left us alone, then maybe we could have dealt with this in our own time. Face it Dean. You screwed up!" She twirled again and left Dean standing, gaping like a fish. She was right. He'd pushed Max and Sam together and Dad hadn't helped and she was... an absolute genius!
Despite his unease with the entire situation, he still had to admire Max. She'd turned the entire thing around on him and actually made him feel guilty. He chuckled ruefully and chased after her. This time, when he caught up to her, she and Sam were seated in a back corner of the the pool-side concession stand. Both of them stared up at Dean and Sam gestured at the empty seat, where a full beverage rested on the table. Dean pulled the chair out and collapsed into it.
"So, we talking calmly, or do the fine folks here get some juicy gossip to dine on?" Sam asked quietly.
"I don't think I can talk calmly," Dean sighed, fiddling with the straw before him. "Especially with evil genius here," he pointed at Max, "getting all defensive on me."
"Can you blame me?" Max asked gently, but forestalled an answer. "Look, you're not alone on this. Sam and I have had plenty of freaky moments over this whole thing."
"Yeah, somehow I doubt that."
"No, seriously Dean," Sam insisted. "Look, everything you could possibly be upset about, it had already occurred to us."
"Uh huh?" Dean snorted.
"The familial thing, the age difference, what you'd say, how Dad would react," Sam listed off on his fingers. "And that's just for starters," he sighed.
"So what are you going to do about it?" Dean demanded bluntly. Sam and Max exchanged wary glances.
"We don't know,' Sam answered honestly. "It's not something that can be solved in ten minutes."
"That's true," Dean conceded somewhat sympathetically. "And don't do that!"
"Do what?" Max asked sharply and Dean waved his hand at the pair of them.
"That! Holding hands when you think I don't notice!" He felt triumphant when their arms twitched and Max's hand reappeared on the table with Sam's following shortly after. They sat in silence for a while, taking hasty sips of their drinks to try and cover the awkwardness surrounding them.
"Look Dean," Max finally sighed, "we know this whole thing is strange-!"
"Right," Dean drawled sarcastically. "Yeah, my brother and sister... together... not strange at all, for us it's gotta be downright normal."
"From your perspective," Max pointed out, ignoring the attacks born out of discomfort, "but Sam and I have never really considered each other that way."
"Excuse me?" Dean demanded.
"We were friends," Sam clarified. "It was you and Dad really pushing the whole sister thing."
"Think about it this way Dean," Max interrupted before Dean could protest further, "what if it were some other girl sitting here?" She ignored the frown on Sam's face. "What if Sam had had the chance and had fallen in love with some other fifteen year old girl?"
"Then I'd still have objections to it," Dean declared. "Age being just one of the things."
"Okay," Sam tried next. "Then think about this. What if Mom and Dad had been younger when they met? What if Mom had only been fourteen? Dad fell head over heels before he knew much about her," Sam reminded his brother.
"Well," Dean growled, "I'd like to think that Dad would've been a gentleman-!"
"Oh you are such a damn hypocrite!" Max snapped, her voice low and her back ramrod straight. "It's out of the question for your parents, two people who loved each other, to have been with each other before they got married, huh? Yet you're tomcatting around with any woman who'll give it a go. And it's just fine by you if Sam did the same, as long as the girl's not me. There's that double standard I warned you about!"
"Hey!" Dean snarled back, "I'm just trying to keep you from getting hurt. Either of you!"
"So in your perfect little world, we'd be safe," Sam broke in. "But did you ever consider that we'd also be miserable? Is that what you want for us?"
"No," Dean groaned in protest. "Would you guys quit being so damn logical? You're giving me a headache!" He dropped his head into his hands again, grinding his heels against his closed eyes. Sam and Max glanced at each other, holding their breaths. As Dean's shoulders began to slowly slump, they could almost feel his capitulation. "Okay," he finally sighed, pulling his hands away to rest on his thighs. "Okay," he repeated. "I will try... try and accept this. But no guarantees," he warned. "And if you two pull any of that lovey dovey crap around me, all bets are off." Both Sam and Max breathed a sigh of relief, grinned and nodded.
"So?" Sam clapped his hands together in anticipation, because well, one down, one to go, things were looking a little better. "Can we finally get back to doing what we came here to do?"
"Definitely," Max agreed. "I'll be in, in just a second." She swirled the ice in her cup and lifted it for another drink. Dean waved Sam away. Sam carried his empty cup to the trash container and moments later, was sliding into the deep end of the pool. Max finished her drink and stood, but leaned forward. "You know what Dean," she whispered conspiratorially and he glanced up at her. "It really is better when you're in love," she told him impishly. His face contorted as if he were in pain.
"Go!" he ordered. "Get out of my sight before I toss you in that pool and drown you, you little... brat!"
Max laughed as she strode gracefully away. "I'd like to see you try," she dared him as she dropped her cup in the trash and then began unwinding her towel.
"Don't tempt me," he growled. With another laugh, she dropped the towel on another bench and joined Sam in the water. Dean picked up his own cup, watching the pair of them speculatively, treading water and talking to each other. A little slice of happiness in this insane world. He wished he could believe in that, but for the little voice in the back of his mind telling him that hell had a better chance of freezing over, than this working out in the end. He sighed and drained his drink. Maybe for one day, it would be okay to believe. After all, Dean told himself as he finally followed after them, they deserve some happiness too. And in his own way, maybe he could help see that they found just that.
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