They’d laid in bed for nearly a half-hour arguing over who got the shower first before Peyton finally relented, allowing him to go first. Her dad would be calling that morning anyway and she didn’t want Dean to pick up the phone and have her dad freak out over the strange man answering his daughter’s phone so early in the morning.



Dean had just stepped into the shower when he heard the phone ring. He’d heard Peyton answer the phone, but then she’d must have disappeared downstairs to continue her phone call. As he stood beneath the spray of the shower, he wondered if she’d told her dad about him. She constantly talked about her dad to him so he couldn’t help but wonder if that went the other way around.



Turning off the tap, Dean stepped out of the shower, grabbing for the towel that hung on the rack beside the shower stall. Wrapping the terry cloth around his waist, he winced as his fingers brushed against the nail marks on his side left by Peyton.



Dean grinned to himself as he shook the excess water from his hair. She hadn’t purposefully scratched the hell out of him, but at the least her marks, both clawed and bitten, were able to be hidden from view.



The last thing he needed was Skills and Lucas getting sight of those, wanting details that he was not about to give.



Crossing to the sink, he wiped the moisture from the mirror, his eyes zoning in on the medicine cabinet. Pulling it open to locate some Neosporin or alcohol for his wounds, he instead found himself focusing on the golden cocaine vial.



In amidst all the excitement of expanding his relationship with Peyton, he had forgotten about the vial. He had meant to ask her about it, but didn't want to throw a wrench into their relationship so early on.



Plucking it from the cabinet, he stared at it with wide eyes. He had never suspected that Peyton was doing drugs. She seemed like the normal, happy-go-lucky teenager. He had no reason to…



At that moment, Peyton burst through the door. “Sorry, I just needed…,” she trailed off when she saw what he held in his hand. “What… what are you doing with that?” she asked, her hazel eyes wide with worry.



“Wondering what you’re doing with it,” he countered. It was amazing how quick he could slip into his detective mode. He leaned against the counter, holding the empty vial between his thumb and forefinger. "What are you doing with this, Peyton?" His eyes bore into hers awaiting an answer, but instead, he received a verbal bitch slap.



She stomped across the room, taking the vial out of his hand, spatting, “What I’m doing with it is none of your business.” She then turned on her heels and exited the bathroom, yelling, "I can't believe you went through my things," over her shoulder as she moved back across the hallway to her room.



“Hey, I wasn’t done!” Dean yelled after her, following suit.



“Well, I was!” she declared, slamming the door behind herself.



Dean pushed open the door, but hovered in her doorway as she stood at the window with her back to him. He could see that her shoulders were shaking, but remained where he was. He didn‘t think she‘d accept his comfort anyway. Not right now. “I just want to know why it’s there, Peyton. It is yours, isn‘t it?”



“Yes, it’s mine,” she admitted. With a sigh, she wiped at teary eyes, telling him, “I only did it once. Last year as I was opening TRIC and trying to secure new acts… there was this one guy….” She spun around to face him, saying, “It was one stupid mistake, Dean. I have no desire to do it again. You have to believe me.”



“I do believe you,” he told her with the utmost sincerity.



She stared at the golden tube in her hand, crushing it into her fist. “I was alone and confused and… there was no one. I had no one.”



Dean was across the room within seconds, taking her in his arms. “You have me, Peyton,” he consoled her.



Neither addressed the thought running rampant through both their heads.



But for how much longer would she have him?



---



“Why are you making me watch this crap?” Dean asked as he grabbed for the remote.



Peyton snuggled closer against his chest, declaring, “Hey, I like this show.”



“It’s like Springer meets 90210!” Dean admonished, having tired of the Laguna Beach marathon that Peyton had made him sit through. “Besides, shouldn’t you be watching… oh, I don’t know… the music channels… or something.”



“This is MTV,” Peyton pointed out, shushing him as the show returned from it's commercial break.



“I know, but…this doesn’t seem to be your thing. Haley’s? Yeah, of course. But not yours.” Peyton stared up at him, smiling at him, as he snapped his fingers saying, “Haley got you hooked, didn’t she?”



“She did,” Peyton answered, frowning at the TV having missed the last few minutes of the show due to Dean’s incessant whining.



Dean squealed when the show faded to black and the credits began to roll. “YES!” he yelped, pumping his hands above his head. “Finally! Can we watch something that’s not so… girly and dramatic now?”



“Fine,” Peyton said, pushing the remote control into his chest. “I need something to drink,” she told him as she pushed off the sofa. “You want something?”



Dean shook his head. “Nah, I’m okay.” He watched for a moment as she made her way to the kitchen, wondering when she’d developed a penchant for wearing his shirts. At least today she was wearing pants.



After Peyton had left the room, he grabbed the newspapers that he had picked up earlier that day. He’d had to find his last two hunts seeing that his dad was hunting in California. He’d found it odd that he hadn’t heard from his dad for a few weeks, but he chalked it up to the elder Winchester just being consumed by his current hunt.



The last time that Dean had spoken to his dad was when they’d met up during his last excursion out of town two weeks before. He’d gone up to Cincinnati to investigate a mysterious train wreck, surprised when his dad had shown up just as he was getting ready to leave his motel and head back to Tree Hill.



They had gone to a diner for lunch, his dad explaining that he was headed to California to investigate the disappearances of nearly a dozen men in Jericho. His dad had left him with his research in case he wanted to join him on the hunt.



But Dean tried not to put much thought into his father’s lack of communication. Hunting was what John Winchester did best. He was pretty sure that his dad was just focused on his current case.



As he began perusing the newspapers, his phone beeped from it’s spot on the floor, signaling that he had a new voicemail. Reaching down to scoop it up, he opened it, quickly dialing his voice box.



It was Caleb, passing along a message from his dad about something that he should look into in New Orleans.



His dad wanted him to check it out so that’s what he would do. He’d never disobeyed an order. Especially when it came through the grapevine.



Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed his shirt and jeans from the back of the sofa and began to dress as his eyes shot to the hallway, waiting for Peyton’s inevitable reentrance.



“Hey Dean I was thinking that tomorrow we could…,” Peyton was saying as she returned from the kitchen, her thoughts disappearing into oblivion when she found Dean pulling on his jeans. “What’s going on?”



“Something came up. I have to go,” he told her, not bothering to look at her as he fell back onto the sofa to pull on his boots.





“Go?” she echoed. “Like… go?” He had just come back from a job! And he was leaving again?



“Yeah,” he told her as he stood back up. “I’m sorry that I have to cut our night short. This should only take a few days…”



“Dean, wait.”



“Peyton, I don’t have time to talk to you about this. I have to go,” he told her sternly. “I’ll… I’ll call you later,” he said, dismissing her quickly, knowing full well that an argument would ensue if he stuck around.



After his last trip she’d began asking questions that he was not ready to answer and he just did not want to have to dodge those questions again. He wasn’t sure he could resist telling her the entire truth if she began her inquiries.



So with a kiss to her cheek, he made his leave with a bemused Peyton staring after him.



But she wasn’t going to give up that easily.



She was not letting him leave town again before she got answers. This time she was going to find out what it was he was leaving for.



Even if it cost her their relationship.



---



At Lucas’, Peyton parked behind Dean’s car in an effort to keep him from leaving. At least for the time being. Making her way up the sidewalk and into the house, she found Dean in the living room, stuffing clothes into his duffel.



Pausing in the archway that led into the living room, she asked, “So, where to now?”



Dean paused in his task, a rolled up shirt in his hands as he turned to her, asking, “What are you doing here, Peyton?”



“I had to know where you were going and what you’re doing, Dean,” she told him as she inched her way into the living room. She noted that all of the linens were folded and stacked neatly on the sofa. Meanwhile his clothes--which she assumed he’d pulled out of the dryer, if their wrinkles were any indication--lay in a crumpled heap at his feet on the floor.



“I’m going to New Orleans,” he answered quickly, not stopping his packing. “But I can‘t tell you what I‘m doing.”



He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.



As he strode to the bathroom for his toiletries, she asked, “Can’t you tell me what you’re doing? After everything… don’t you trust me?”



Walking out of the bathroom, he told her, “You know I trust you, Peyton. I’ve never trusted any one person more.”



“Then why? Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” She watched as he stuffed his shaving bag into his duffel. “You aren’t doing something illegal, are you?”



Dean remained silent for a few moments, zipping his bag now that it was completely packed. She was not going to let up. They were going to have this conversation whether he wanted it or not. Lifting his head to look at her, he begged, “Peyton, please let it go. I don’t want to lie to you.”



“Then, don’t. You’ve done enough of that already,” she snipped, folding her arms across her chest. She didn’t care what he did or why he felt that he had to hide what he did from her. It couldn’t possibly be that bad.



Unless he was a hitman or something.



She wanted to laugh at the thought. She couldn’t even picture Dean holding a gun much less killing other people. Surely her mind was just running off with the most ludicrous thoughts that she couldn’t conjure up.



“I won’t refute that.”



“It doesn’t pay to. I know that you haven’t been honest with me.”



“Oh, like you have?” he bit back. They were mere feet away from one another but they might as well be hundreds of miles apart for all the space between them at the moment. This was it, Dean told himself. This was the moment everything changed. It was either tell her or let her go and contemplating the latter at this point in time was not an option. “Up until a few days ago I didn’t know that you and Lucas were anything but friends.”



“That has nothing to do with this, Dean, and you know it. You’ve been weaving in and out of my life all summer and you’re still this stranger to me, more or less.”



“If I’m still a stranger to you what the hell are you doing here? Why bother?” he asked, annoyed. He was more annoyed with himself than with her, though. What she was saying was true. He would open up to her, but there were barriers to what he told her.



He was still a stranger to her. And he wanted to be more than that.



“Because I don’t want you to be just some stranger, dumbass! I want to know who you are. Who you really are! I think I deserve that much.”



Dean couldn’t deny that, yes, she deserved the truth. The whole truth. Not his modified version of it. Even though he wanted to protect her, his aversion to telling her the deep roots of his past had more to do with him than her.



It wasn’t about protecting Peyton and keeping her safe from the things that go bump in the night.



It was about protecting himself.



He didn’t want to see her look at him like some escaped mental patient when he told her what had happened to his mother. He had seen the looks that his father received and he couldn’t bear for Peyton to look at him like that.



Outside his family’s close circle of friends and those that helped them during their times of need, they’d never told another living soul what had happened that night. Most believed that the wiring in their house had gone faulty leading to the fire that took his mother’s life.



No one knew the truth. If they had they’d probably send all the Winchester men to the looney bin.



“It’s not that simple,” he interrupted, walking past her into the kitchen. “My life… what I haven’t told you… it’s not just about me…” He trailed off turning back to face her.



“This is about your family, right? That’s why you’re not with them?”



He nodded his head slowly. If she only knew…



“My family is the most important thing to me. No matter how dysfunctional we are and even though we butt heads over every little thing, I still love my father and brother. They’re all I have left. And what I do… I do to protect them.”



“Dean, I’m not following. What does your problems with your father and brother have to do with us?”



Dean moved around the kitchen, until he was at the front door, staring outside as the sun began to set. “It has everything to do with us, Peyton. The reason why I’m here… the reason why I haven’t been completely honest with you… they‘re the reason.“



“Why?”



He didn’t look at her as he continued. He couldn’t bear to. He’d made the split second decision to tell her, risking their relationship over being brutally honest, like she deserved.



“There are things in my life--in my past--that you might not understand. My dad, Sam and I--we made a promise to one another that none of us would never tell anyone else what we do. It’s our business. Our burden. Our… vendetta. No one else’s. When I tell you… it makes you a part of this.”



“Okay,” she conceded even though she had no idea what she was conceding to.



“No! It’s not okay!” He yelled, his body shaking with contempt. He had never wanted to bring her into his messy life yet here they were. But what did he expect? Did he honestly think that he could build a relationship with Peyton based on lies?



“I didn’t want you involved. I still don’t yet here we are,“ he scoffed. “When I left the first time, I had promised that I was gone for good. I told myself that I’d do my job and move on just as I had done all the times before. But you… you were so adamant. You wouldn’t get out of my head. Every time I closed my eyes there you were, calling me back. I hated it. I still hate it. I hate how you make me feel.”



There weren‘t many times that she had seen Dean‘s temper flare. It was a new sight for her, but if she really wanted to know how Dean felt about her, this was her chance. She had to push a little bit more. “How’s that?” she quipped.



“Wanted… and… and needed,” he confessed, his words shaky and labored. He ran a hand across his face as he let out a deep, frustrated breath. He hadn‘t been needed by someone in a very long time. Even though the feeling was a burden to him on one hand, on the other it was comforting to be needed. And wanted? Well, that was something else entirely. “When I’m with you I don’t feel like I’m just here. I feel like I’m actually living and I haven’t felt like that for as long as I can remember.”



“So, what’s wrong with that?”



“There’s so much wrong with that, Peyton. What I do can put you in danger. It can put you in the middle of a war that you have no business being a part of.”



Peyton furrowed her brows. “What are you talking about?” Even as she asked the question, she knew deep down that she really didn’t want the answer.



“I’m talking about the things that you watch movies about, the things that you’re told are real, but chock up to myths and fairytales. Demons, ghosts, vampires….“ Dean paused, scratching his head. “Well… I don’t know about the vampires… because… I’ve never come face to face with one… but that’s not the point. My life’s mission is to kill as many as I can.”



To say that was the last thing she‘d expected would be an understatement. “But… why?” He had yet to give her a reason to all his incessant rambling over the last twenty minutes. She needed a solid answer and she needed it soon. She needed it now.



Dean turned around, pushed open the screen door and stepped outside. Rubbing the back of his neck, he heard the door creak open a few moments later signaling that Peyton had joined him. Sitting down on the steps, he told her, “I wasn’t completely honest with you about my mother. But what you need to understand… why I didn’t tell you before… what I couldn’t tell you before… she was murdered but not by anything human.”



Silence was supposed to be telling, wasn’t it? He turned to gauge her reaction as she sat down beside him. The hand that she placed on his thigh helped comfort him. A little.



At least she hadn’t screamed and ran. That, at least, was a good sign that she didn’t find him to be some kind of crackerjack.



“Can you tell me what happened?” When he turned to pierce her with a pair of vulnerable eyes, she rephrased herself. “Will you tell me what happened?”



Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat, hesitant to forge on. He had never told anyone the story of the night that changed his family’s life and to tell someone that he… that he cared about… was new territory.



Peyton linked her fingers through his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s your story, Dean. Take your time. I won‘t push.”



“I‘m okay,” he insisted. “I just… I’ve never told this to anyone.”



“No one?” she questioned, still skeptical.



“No one,” he said with conviction, bringing their joined hands to his mouth to brush his lips across the top of her hand. “I was only four when it happened,” he began. “Sam was still a baby. I remember kissing him goodnight and then my dad carrying me off to bed. When I woke up, I could hear him yelling. Sam was crying and I could smell the smoke and feel the heat from the fire… I ran down the hall to Sam’s room, then Dad put him in my arms and told me to take him outside.”



“Dean…” Peyton sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She knew that was futile at this point, but what else was she supposed to say. His mother burned to death on the ceiling of his brother’s nursery. What more could she say?



“After my mother was killed… I had to grow up really fast and things were never the same. Ever since that night my dad has been on a quest to find the demon that killed her. He raised Sam and I to be hunters. Sam ran off to school to get away from it all, but me… I did whatever dad wanted.” Shaking his head, he dropped his eyes to stare at the cracks in the cement at his feet. “You probably think I’m a basket case.”



“No, Dean, I don’t think you’re a basket case. If you believe that this is true then I believe you.”



“You do?” he asked, looking at her once again.



“Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?”



“Honestly, Peyton? No. No, I didn’t think you would. It‘s not something easily swallowed. I‘ve lived with this all my life and I still have trouble believing that this is my everyday reality.”



“I came here for the truth. I needed to know what you were doing when you left and now that I do everything about you makes so much more sense.”



“I was never going to tell you,” he admitted, staring up at the sky, realizing that he was going to have to leave soon to get on the road to New Orleans.



Peyton wrapped her arms around his middle, unwillingly to let him go. “I know.”



“This is my burden. It shouldn’t be yours, too.”



Peyton’s head shot up, her eyes meeting his. “That’s what being in a relationship is, Dean. Sharing our demons with one another…,” she balked.



“Interesting word choice,” he teased, eager to lighten the mood.



Peyton smiled in reply. “You didn’t have to tell me, you know.”



“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. He could’ve construed some kind of lie if he had really wanted to. But he didn’t want to. It was tiring lying to her and keeping her in the dark about his life. At least she knew everything now.



“So, why did you?”



“Because I couldn’t lie to you anymore.”



---



A half-hour later, Dean told Peyton that he needed to go as he pushed himself to his feet. He helped her to hers, allowing her to take his hand to lead him back into the house.



Dean dropped her hand once they entered the kitchen, stalking into the living room.



“Let me come with you,” Peyton said as he grabbed his duffel off the sofa.



Slinging his duffel over his shoulder, Dean shook his head, telling her, “Hell no.”



“Why not?”



“I don’t know what awaits me in New Orleans and there’s no way in hell I’m putting you at the forefront of danger. I didn‘t tell you what I do so that we could be hunting buddies.”



“I’m a big girl, Dean. I can take care of myself.”



“I know you can, Peyton, but the answer’s no. You aren’t coming.”



Peyton huffed, crossing her arms. “Fine.”



“You can pout all you want. The answer’s the same,” Dean said matter of factly as he stormed past her and back outside.



“Okay,” she relented, knowing arguing with him was futile. But there was another angle that she could work… “When you go on these jobs you normally stay in a hotel?” she asked, following him out of the house.



“I don’t stay at the swankiest dives, but they’re….” He turned around abruptly, eyes snapping up to meet hers. “What are you getting at?”



“What do you mean?” she asked innocently, staring down at him from the porch.



“You’re not coming, Peyton. End of discussion.”



They stared at each other for a few moments, before Peyton began descending the steps. She crossed to Dean, wrapping her arms around his waist as she told him, “Come on, Dean. Think about it. You and me. Hotel room. Danger. You can’t tell me that put in a dangerous situation it would turn you on.”



Dean humphed, rolling his eyes. “Are you seriously using that argument?”



“I want to come.”



Humor crept into his voice as he told her, “I know that wasn’t to sound like it did.”



Peyton shook her head, grinning wickedly, “No, it was.”



“And you say I’m incorrigible!” He stared down at Peyton’s expectant face and he couldn’t turn her away. Truth was, he didn’t really want to leave her anyhow. When he was away all he did was think about her anyway. “Okay. Fine. Fine! You can come,” he complied as Peyton squealed in delight.



“Thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed with glee.



“But one sign of danger and your ass will be on a bus back to Tree Hill. Got it?”



She bobbed her head in understanding. “Got it. But… I don‘t have any clothes. I‘ll have to go home and pack a bag.”



Dean checked his watch, huffing, “You‘ve got twenty minutes.”



Watching Peyton run off to her car, Dean was met with the realization that hunting would be the last thing on his mind with Peyton tagging along.



Sighing, he stalked to his car, pushing his duffel into the back seat.



It was going to be a long couple of days.