Peyton fumbled through Dean’s box of cassette tapes, muttering under her breath as she fingered the labels.
“Speak, woman,” Dean said, glancing at her. “What’s your problem? You‘ve been mumbling and grumbling to yourself for the past ten minutes. What gives?”
“Your cassette collection, Dean. It leaves much to be desired,” Peyton whined. She liked the guitar rock just as much as he did. But she also liked variety. Preferred it, actually. And Dean’s collection did not embody variety. Didn’t even so much as hint at it.
“What’s wrong with my cassette collection?”
“They’re. Cassette. Tapes. Join the 21st century, why don’t you? You‘ve heard of a CD player, haven’t you?”
Dean rolled his eyes. This was why girls weren‘t allowed on hunting trips. They whined and complained and acted… girly. “I don’t complain about your angry girl music so stop complaining about mine. Besides, you’re the one that wanted to tag along, remember?”
Peyton pushed the box back onto floor as she told, “Yeah, I remember. And I figured that you’d have better car music. Metallica? Megadeth? Black Sabbath? Dean… seriously, dude?”
Eyes snapping to her he asked, shocked and a little appalled, “Did you just called me dude?”
Peyton knitted her brows as she adjusted the air conditioning vents away from herself. “Yeah, so?”
“Don’t call me, dude.”
“Come on, dude.”
Dean glanced at her, huffing, “Okay, now you’re just abusing the word and it’s doing a stellar job of turning me on so… Stop it!”
Peyton laughed as her head fell back against the headrest. “How long before we get there?”
“A while. We’ll probably stop in Georgia for the night,” he looked at her, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, please. Is that all you think about?”
“Besides food? Uh… yes.”
They both giggled as Peyton slid across the seat closer to him. “Haley and Lucas are going to freak when they find out that I left with you.”
“They’ll just be jealous that they couldn’t tag along,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to bring her closer. “I am glad that you came.”
“I’m glad that you let me.” Reaching forward toward the center controls, Peyton lowered the air conditioner as she asked him, “Is it really dangerous?”
“Sometimes. Depends on what we’re dealing with.”
“Have you ever gotten hurt?”
“A few times,” he said vaguely.
“Be honest.”
Dean sighed. He shouldn‘t be uncomfortable talking about his past exploits with Peyton but for some reason he was. She was interested in what he did. He should be thankful and not looking the gift horse in the mouth.
But why couldn‘t she ask about some of the things he’d killed rather the things that had weakened him?
“Once… I was lit on fire by an apparition.” Hearing Peyton’s quick intake of breath, he added, “But it was kinda my fault. I mean, I was the idiot with the lighter.”
“You’re saying that a ghost set you on fire?”
“Well, when you say it like that….”
Peyton sat upright. “Dean. I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you and you’re not holding up your end.”
He kept his attention on the road which was a hard task given Peyton’s close proximity. “It was my first hunt by myself,” he began to explain. “I was used to having my dad or Sam around to lend a hand. Trying to do everything by myself was something new for me. ”
“Were you badly burned?”
“Nah. Lucky for me the ghost was a suck shot,” he tried to joke. His laughter diminished when Peyton clawed her fingernails into his thigh. “Owowowow,” he whined.
“That’s not funny.”
“Obviously, you had to be there.“ Wrinkling his nose, at her he told her, “You’re no fun,” rubbing his hand across his thigh and sending a glare in her direction as he exited the interstate. “That shit hurt, Peyton!”
“It wasn’t supposed to tickle,” she told him, slightly amused by his pain. When she’d noticed that they had turned off, she asked, “What are we doing?”
“We’re getting a hotel.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m tired of driving.”
Peyton chewed on her lip, then stated flatly, “I can drive.”
Dean slammed on the brakes at the stop sign at the end of the off ramp. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think so.” Since his dad had passed the Impala on to him, no one had driven it. Ever. Not by his own accordance, anyway. Sam had driven it a time or two, but that was only when he and his dad had been teaching his younger sibling how to drive.
“Why not? And don’t call me sweetheart. It sounds so fake coming out of your mouth.”
“No one drives my car. No one. Not even you.”
“Please?” she continued to beg as Dean made a left turn, scanning the sides of the road for a motel with reasonable rates.
“No,” he told her again. “Ah, there we go,” he said, pulling into the Luxury Inn.
“Why not?” she asked as Dean pulled into a parking space then threw the car into park.
Dean switched off the car, pulling his keys from the ignition as he turned to tell her, “It’s my car.”
Peyton shrugged. “You drive my car.”
Dean ground his teeth. Why were they talking about driving privileges again? “Yeah, but that’s different.”
She wanted to laugh. “How so?”
He locked his eyes on the flashing vacancy sign so that he didn‘t have to look at her as he said, “Because you’re a girl.”
“And that’s a newsflash for you? I‘ve been a girl from the beginning, Einstein. Why’s it a problem now?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s not a problem. I’m just saying that no one drives my car. Besides I‘ve seen the way you drive,” he said, pushing open the door to climb out of the car.
“I can’t believe you have the audacity to ridicule my driving. He who doesn’t drive slower than eighty!” she argued back as she scrambled out of the car.
“Well, you won’t ever get anywhere if you drive the speed limit,” he scoffed as he grabbed their bags from the backseat, closing the door shut behind himself. Dean tossed her bag at her as he asked, “Can we stop talking about this now?”
“That depends…,” she said as she pulled the strap of her bag onto her shoulder. “Can I drive your car?”
Dean smiled as he nodded his head. “Uh, let me think… no,” he told her, leading the way into the office.
---
“Why New Orleans?”
Dean glanced up at Peyton from his perusal of the New Orleans papers as he searched for any auspicious reports. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
Peyton stood at the window, staring out at the busy street below. They‘d only been in New Orleans two hours and already Dean had slipped into investigative mode.
They were staying at right on Bourbon Street. She wondered if it was always this busy during the summer. But considering this was The Big Easy, she assumed it was.
The city bustling below had caught her attention as Dean had settled onto the bed with a stack of newspapers. She ached to go out and explore the city but knew that Dean wouldn’t let her go sightseeing alone. Plus, this was not a vacation as he’d reminded her a million times since they’d left Tree Hill. She should get a tattoo that said that. “You don’t normally know what’s going on when you go on a job?”
“Typically, no. I mean, I either find the jobs myself by looking through the papers or hearing about something on the news, but lately my dad’s been text messaging me places that I should go--places that he can’t go.”
“Where’s your dad now? Why didn’t he come here?”
Dean didn’t talk much about his father. He talked about Sam in length, but his dad? She couldn’t help but wonder why that was. She knew from the way Dean spoke of the eldest Winchester that the two had a complex relationship but something also told her that it went much deeper than that.
Dean didn’t answer for a few moments, consumed by his scroll through the news headlines. Finally, he answered, “He’s in California hunting something else.”
“Found anything?” Peyton asked, hopeful. She’d gone from being cooped up in a car to being cooped up in a hotel. Not that she was complaining because at least Dean was there to keep her company. Although, he wasn’t as much fun when he was concentrated on his “work”.
“Here’s something,” Dean said as an article leapt up at him. “Seems that someone tried to break into the tomb of Marie Laveau, the old Voodoo Queen.”
“Voodoo? Like potions and juju and stuff like that?” she asked, her interest suddenly piqued. She walked away from the window to sit beside him on the bed.
“Something like that,” he told her as his eyes reined in on a series of mysterious deaths. “Okay, I think this is it,” he said, jumping off the bed in a flurry.
“That’s good, right?”
Dean shook his head. “Not necessarily. Someone broke in and stole Marie’s spell book. According to this, which refers to the legend and folklore, it contained powerful incantations and spells.”
Peyton stared up at Dean who continued to mull over the newspaper. “Okay, so why the concern with some old voodoo woman’s book?”
Dean shook his head as he tossed the paper down onto the dresser. Turning back to Peyton, he told her, “I don‘t know, but that‘s what we’re going to find out. Since the book was stolen there’ve been a series of mysterious deaths.”
Peyton scooted to the edge of the bed, staring at him, goosebumps pebbling her arms as she asked, “How mysterious?”
“Their hearts were missing,” Dean told her, trying to smile as an alarmed look washed across Peyton’s face. A second later he told her, “Come on. Grab your jacket.”
“Why?” she asked, bolting to her feet, even as Dean moved toward the door.
“We’re going out.”
---
“So when you said out I expected you meant to like dinner or something,” Peyton told him as they climbed the steps to the public library.
“We aren’t here on vacation, Peyton. This is a job.”
“So you keep reminding me. You know, if this is a job then you shouldn’t be reaping any benefits,” she snapped at him as they reached the top landing.
“Hey, I don’t remember you pushing me away,” he smirked as he reached for the door handle. “In fact, if I remember quickly you tore off my clothes.”
As Dean held open the door, Peyton murmured to herself, “Why am I always attracted to the charming ass holes?” She lead Dean through the doors, stopping quickly as her eyes scanned the various stacks of books, gasping, “Lucas would die in here.”
Dean grabbed her by her shirtsleeve, pointing to a room beyond the stacks to their right. “Come on,” he said, dragging her through the rows of book shelves in the direction of the computer room.
“What are we doing?” Peyton asked as Dean settled at a computer.
“Research,” he answered vaguely. She stood beside him as he settled at the computer, hovering over him as he signed his name on the sign in sheet. Jack Black.
“Why didn’t you just put…?”
“That’s not important,” he told her quickly, knowing that she was going to want an answer as to why he didn’t use his real name. Using aliases had become part of the job and he was used to it. He only used his real name when absolutely necessary.
Peyton let an explanation slide for the time being. But she would find out why he didn’t sign his own name. If Dean Winchester was in fact his name.
Yeah, like now was the time to debate Dean’s honesty. While they were in Louisiana!
“What are we researching?”
Dean regarded her with wide eyes and a mocking laugh. “We?”
“Well, I’m here aren’t I?”
Dean focused on the computer screen, typing as he told her, “Well, that wasn’t by my choice.” When she flicked his ear, he snapped his head up at her. “What’d you do that for?”
“That was rude. You should be thankful that I’m here.”
“I should?” he frowned.
“Yes.”
Dean sighed, taking her off-guard when he grabbed her hips, pulling her onto his lap. “I am glad you’re here, Peyton. I just don’t like that you’re here. Does that make sense?” He wanted her with him, but at the same time he wanted her safe at home in Tree Hill. He wasn’t sure if he could concentrate on the case at hand and have to worry about her safety as well.
Plus, it was New Orleans. Anything could happen here.
“Not really, but I understand,” she said with a nod of her head. “I just… I want to be with you.”
“I know you do and I‘m glad, but we’re not Mulder and Scully. This is not going to be a regular thing you tagging along on my jobs.”
“Why not?” she snapped. She figured he’d welcome the company. Of course, these trips with him would not become a regular thing since she would be returning to school soon. And on that thought, she groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted to do was think about school right now.
“Because.”
“Because is not an answer,” she retaliated.
“Because I worry less when you’re in Tree Hill. At least I know Lucas is there to take care of you,” he said, stumbling over his own words. He was still getting used to the fact that Lucas and Peyton shared a past. But because they were all friends, Dean didn’t want their past to interfere with his relationships with both of them. “Whereas if something were to happen to me here, there’d be no one,” he carried on.
“Hey,” Peyton interjected, cupping his face in her palms. “Nothing is going to happen to you. Don‘t you even start talking like that.”
Hearing the clearing of a throat somewhere behind them, both Dean and Peyton looked behind them, realizing that they weren’t alone in the small computer room. “Sorry,” Peyton apologized, sliding off Dean’s lap into the chair beside him. She pointed at the computer. “Get to work.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to sit here and watch you,” she grinned, wondering if he even knew how to surf the internet. The thought amused her, causing her to giggle aloud.
Dean peered at her wearily, asking, “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” she insisted with a shake of her head.
“Girls. I swear,” Dean muttered under his breath, returning his attention to the computer screen and his impending internet search.
Twenty minutes later as Peyton was about to fall sleep from boredom, Dean exclaimed, “I think I found something.”
“What?” she asked as he scrolled through a website dedicated to the paranormal and voodoo in New Orleans.
“Gimme a second, will ya?” Dean said, skimming over the contents of the web page for any useful information. Pausing, he added, “Okay. Here were go. New Orleans was home to the Voodoo Queen, as they called her back in the 1800s, Marie Laveau. She blended voodoo with her Catholic heritage using Holy water and candles for rituals,” he read off the page. Turning away from the screen, he added, “She was the first of two. I remember this now. After she died, her daughter took her place.”
“And how do you know this exactly?”
“Please! We would research the occult and the paranormal like crazy when I was younger. Dad would have Sam and I pouring over books about anything and everything supernatural,” he explained.
“You think these murders have anything to do with this voodoo woman?”
“I can’t be sure. I mean, the Queen is a legend around these parts. Plus, her spell book was taken. It has to be all linked somehow.”
“But the missing hearts? Is that a typical trade in voodoo?”
Dumbfounded, Dean spat out, “How the hell am I supposed to know?”
“You were trained to a warrior, were you not?”
“You gonna throw that back in my face every time I don’t have an answer for you?”
Rolling her eyes, Peyton gestured to the computer. “What else does it say about her? Maybe it‘ll give us some more incite.” Peyton pushed her chair closer, leaning toward the screen so that she could read the web page as well.
“All it says, Peyton, is that she was the Voodoo Queen back in her heyday, which we already know. She was a hairdresser by trade which allowed her inside the confines of the New Orleans elite,” Dean told her as he read off the browser. “It says that she hexed a few of them. The murders seem don’t seem like her M.O, though. The people that have died weren’t from well-known families and they don‘t have anything in common from what I‘ve read.“ Shaking his head, Dean continued his perusal saying, “It doesn’t make sense.“
“What doesn’t?“
“Marie was more concerned with love spells than anything else.”
Personally, Dean thought it was all just a bunch of hocus pocus. Voodoo queens? Come on! Did the Cajuns really believe this shit? But then again, who really believed half the shit that he had beared witness to over the years? It was a high possibility that there was truth to the legend. No matter how hokey it all sounded.
“So this may not be her, then?”
Dean continued to read as he said, “Not necessarily. Listen to this. Many believe that the Queen returned on St. John’s Eve to hold court over a spectacular voodoo ritual.”
Peyton eyed Dean skeptically as he clicked out of the page and bolted to his feet. “What are you thinking? Dean?”
“I’m thinking that someone’s cooking up some hoodoo. We just have to find out who it is.”
Dean quickly bolted to his feet, then stalked out of the room with Peyton lagging behind, exclaiming, “What did you just say?” as she followed him out.
---
“Where the hell are we, Dean?” Peyton asked as the car pulled to a stop in a nest of trees. Wearily, Peyton pushed open her door, stepping outside, slapping at the mosquitoes that buzzed around her. “Great. I’m sure to catch the West Nile now that we’re in the swamps,” she muttered as Dean made his way to the rear of the car.
“If we’re gonna find out what happened to those dead people, we have to go at this thing from every angle. Now, the guy I talked to this afternoon said that Madame Lunette is the latest practioner of the voodoo. She lives through those trees,” he said, pointing to the brushes where the front of the Impala was pointed.
“So, what? We just storm in there and demand answers?” she asked, annoyed when she didn’t receive an immediate answer. “Dean… what are you doing back there?” she asked, hearing clinging and clattering coming from around the back of the car.
When she walked back to meet him, her eyes widened at the massive amount of weaponry in his trunk. “Whoa,” was all she could say.
It was all becoming too real to her now. This was actually Dean’s life. This… crusader was really who Dean was. Although, she had yet to see any evidence of him proving her wrong in the paranormal front. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him because she did. She was just the seeing-is-believing kind of girl.
Reaching into the trunk, she grabbed the first weapon she saw which happened to be one of Dean’s pistols. She pointed it at him, eyes darkening, when he snatched the gun away from her. “Honey, that’s not a play toy,” he told her, replacing the gun to it’s rightful place. “Besides, it’s loaded. You could shoot me.”
“And that’d be a bad thing, right?” Dean took a moment to smile at her, before returning to his scan of the trunk. “Do you actually use all this stuff?”
“You’d be amazed at what comes in handy,” he sighed, shifting through his weapons. What was good protection against a voodoo woman? Somehow he doubted the rock salt would do much good. Grabbing his pistol, he cocked it to make sure that it was loaded, then stuffed it at the back of his pants, making sure that it was hidden behind his shirttail.
“Crafty, aren’t you?” Peyton asked as he slammed the trunk shut.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand.
---
“Well, that was a waste,” Dean muttered, slamming his keys down on the dresser.
“You’re being too hard on yourself. How were you to know that Madame Lunette was a psychic and not some psycho voodooist?” Peyton offered, closing the door behind herself.
Dean had been beating himself up over the bogus lead since they had left Madame Lunette’s cabin. His “source” hadn’t been that resourceful since as it turned out Madame Lunette was nothing but your regular run of the mill Miss Cleo. Except with a Louisiana accent.
“I just hate being pulled in the wrong direction,” he complained, throwing himself down on the bed. He felt the bed dip a few moments later when Peyton curled up beside him.
“Then, tomorrow you’ll go out and find something more concrete.”
Wrapping his arm around her to pull her closer, Dean sighed, whispering, “You know, I’m getting used to this whole supportive girlfriend thing. I’m going to be at a loss when you’re not around to pump my ego.”
Silence stretched between them for what seemed like a millennia until Peyton murmured, “You’re not going anywhere yet so let’s just cross that bridge whenever we come to it, hmm?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he breathed heavily.
“Of course I am,” she said, throwing her legs over his to straddle his waist. “And right now I’m not interested in talking anymore,” Peyton told him before her mouth crashed against his.
---
Later that night Dean and Peyton lay curled up in bed, the sheets wrapped tightly around them. “You’re quiet,” Peyton whispered, interrupting the silence that lingered between them.
“Sorry,” Dean apologized, running his hand across her back. “Just… thinking,” he murmured through into the dark, encompassed by thoughts of the past few days.
Peyton veered her head back asking, “About what?”
“My dad, mostly.”
“Uh… okay.”
Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “No… I mean… being here with you it makes me think about later on. The future and what comes after we find this demon.”
Peyton felt her eyes moisten. “You think that far ahead?”
“Well… yeah. I’m twenty-six, Peyton. I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be normal. I want to settle somewhere, get married, have kids. I want all that. It’s what my parents had before…”
“… before your mother’s death?” she offered, knowing that even though his mother had been gone after twenty years it was still a sore subject for him. All the times they had talked about her, she could see the pain in his eyes and hear the sadness in his voice. Even after all this time he was still grieving in the same respect that she still grieved her own mother.
The likeness between them was uncanny to a scary degree, she thought wryly.
“They were happy. We were happy. We were normal… and then… and then we weren’t,” he said, adding the latter part in barely a whisper.
“You can be normal again, Dean. You will be normal again,” Peyton assured him.
Dean liked that she was so optimistic. He, however, wasn’t so much. He knew what the stakes were. There was a demon out there waiting to be brought down. But chances were that it wouldn’t end with that one. Chances were that the fight only started with the fire demon that had succeeded in tearing his family apart.
But he didn’t dare tell Peyton that. He may have brought her into the fold, but this wasn’t her fight and he wouldn’t her be a part of it.
“I only wished that I could be as sure as you, Peyton.”
Peyton sat up abruptly hugging the sheet to her chest as she told him, “You know I really hate your woe is me attitude, Dean.” She backed against the headboard, pushing her hair behind her ears as Dean turned on his side toward her.
Scoffing, he said, “Like you’re one to talk, Peyton! You’re not exactly Miss Ray of Sunshine, you know. You have more issues than… a magazine with a lot of issues!”
“Yeah, well… maybe you’re right. Maybe I do have a lot of issues.”
“There ain’t no maybe to it, sweetheart.”
“At least I own up to my issues. You bury them and pretend they don’t exist. If the situation with Ellie has taught me anything it’s that our worlds are always thrown into upheaval. You can either let it consume you or you can stand up, dust yourself off and move on. But you’re not moving on, Dean. You’re standing in the same position, refusing to move forward.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Peyton.”
“No? What about Sam?”
Dean sat up to face her. It was nice to know that they had gotten away from Tree Hill, but had brought their issues along for the road trip. They’d gone from snuggling to arguing.
About Sam!
And his issues. He didn’t even have issues!
Okay. Maybe he did have issues, but he did not have a woe-is-me attitude.
Did he?
“You whine about not speaking to your brother but have you picked up the phone at least once to call him?” When Dean looked away, she knew that he wasn‘t even going to try to deny it.
“He left. Why should I be the one to call?”
“You’re the older brother. Don’t you think it’s your place to make the first call? You know, Sam probably misses you as much as you miss him.”
“Somehow I doubt that he does. You know, it ain’t like he’d pick up the phone if I called anyway. And, hey, let’s get one thing straight. I do not miss him.”
That was a lie, of course. He did miss his brother. But would he admit it? Hell no. He missed his dad, too, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit to that, either.
“Why because you’re too much of a man to miss your baby brother?” Grabbing the pillow from behind her back, she hit him over the head with it. “Get over it, already!”
“Hey! Stop that!” he yelled when she began continuously knocking him in the head with the feathered pillow.
“No!” Peyton said, continuing her attack.
“I’m warning you…”
Peyton paused for a second to ask, “What’re you gonna do? Huh, Winchester?” Then, she hit him once more.
The words had barely escaped her mouth before she found herself flat on her back, Dean hovering above her. Holding her wrists above her head, Dean leaned in close, whispering, “In all fairness, I did warn you.”
“So you did…,” Peyton agreed, gasping for air as he ground his hips into her. A pleasured groan escaped her lips like they hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes squabbling. Most of their fevered lovemaking sessions had come on the heels of an argument. It was their idea of foreplay.
“I’m beginning to rather arguing with you,” he said breathlessly as they tumbled toward ecstasy once again.
---
Dean had ventured out by himself the following morning, leaving Peyton alone in the hotel room to catch up on her sleep.
They hadn’t gotten much rest the night before between their long conversations-slash-arguments and even longer romps through the sheets. He hadn’t been wrong when he’d told himself that this trip would be different.
Peyton knew the truth now. He no longer had to keep anything from her and that openness had brought them closer together. They still annoyed one another now and again, but Dean couldn’t picture making the trip to New Orleans without her.
He had stood watching her for a good five minutes, debating with himself rather or not to wake her up, but in the end he had left her to her snoring.
Besides, he’d wanted to do some investigating by himself.
After visiting numerous sources and members of the victims’ families, Dean found himself at the cemetery that the Queen was buried in.
He was no closer to finding the culprit responsible for the mysterious deaths and the heart snatching.
But he would admit that he was a tad distracted.
Maybe a few hours away from Peyton would get his mind on the right track and focused on what was important.
Hunting.
---
Peyton leapt off the bed the moment she heard the key in the lock, breathing a sigh of relief when Dean stepped through the door, greeting her with a wide smile and, “Hey! You’re up!”
Who’d he think she was? Yogi Bear? It was five o’clock in the afternoon! Of course she’d be awake.
“That’s all I get?” she snapped, annoyed that his greeting hadn’t been accompanied with an explanation on where he’d been all day. He had left her all day long to do God knows what! He could’ve at least left her note or called. He hadn’t even bothered to call!
“Right, right. Stupid me. I almost forgot…,” he said, crossing the room to greet her more properly.
“That’s not what I was talking about,” she said, breaking off their kiss with a swift shove to his chest that sent him ricocheting backward onto the mattress.
Laughing, Dean apologized, “I’m sorry I left you.”
“So then why did you?”
“I needed to do some work by myself. It’s easier for me to investigate without you being there,” he explained, closing his eyes immediately, knowing that Peyton was going to take his words out of context.
And, of course, she didn’t disappoint, spatting, “So I’m in your way?”
Dean’s head snapped up to meet hers, telling her, “Now you know that’s not what I meant.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her down beside him on the bed. “I didn’t just dawdle while I was out, you know. I managed to find out some things of importance.”
Peyton crossed her arms, looking away, clearly telling him that she was not interested in hearing what he’d uncovered. But he told her anyway.
“I found the link between all the victims. They had all paid visit to the latest voodoo practioner here in New Orleans whose name is not Madame Lunette. That should’ve been my first clue. How many voodoo women are Madame’s? Anyway, apparently, Lady Guinevere worked some mojo on each of them.”
“What’d she do?”
“Glad you asked that. Love spells.”
“Love spells?”
“Not just any love spells, either. The Queen’s love spells.”
All the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place, finally. “So this Lady Guinevere broke into the Queen’s tomb for a book of spells?”
“Yes, but here’s the kicker,” Dean continued, so excited that he had to stand up. “The Queen was buried with her book so that no one could copy her work. Before she died she’d passed on all her knowledge to her daughter who took her place but not before chronicling all her secrets in her book. But it seems that Lady Guinevere’s voodoo is a lot darker than the Queen’s ever was. She disappeared a few days ago, just following the last murder. Now, no one has seen her, but there has been a black cat loitering around her shop.”
Peyton stared at her boyfriend questiongly, wondering if he’d lost his head somewhere between Tree Hill and New Orleans. “A cat? That’s raising some red flags? Dean, come on. Be serious. What’s a stupid cat got to do with anything?”
“Well, in some tales witches, voodooists and the like were believed to have the ability to transform into animals. A ritual was involved, of course, but in some instances a dabbler in the occult was able to change their appearance and take on animal shape.”
“Okay, what are you going with this?”
“I think that Guinevere is able to transform into a cat.”
“Okay, do you know how crazy you sound?” Peyton asked him.
“Believe me I know how it sounds. But I told you, Peyton, that there were things that you wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m just not used to all this… stuff. I’m having trouble believing that a woman can transform herself into a cat. It’s just too Harry Potter for me.”
“Welcome to my world,” Dean sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.
“But what’s the spell book stealing and the cat transformation got to do with the missing hearts?”
Dean looked over at her, murmuring, “That’s what I have yet to figure out.”
---
Peyton kept close behind Dean, not enjoying the fact that they were tiptoeing through a cemetery in the middle of the night. “What are we doing here again?” she whispered, keeping a tight hold on Dean’s jacket.
“We’re looking for the blasted cat,” Dean told her, shining his flashlight looking for any signs of the animal. “And why are you whispering? Scared we wake the dead?”
“No. Well… yeah,” she said, a little sheepishly as Dean spun around to face her.
“They’re not gonna jump out and attack you. At least I don’t think they will,” he said, adding the latter under his breath as he resumed their hunt for the mysterious black cat.
“Dean, we’ve combed over every inch of this cemetery and it’s not here.”
“I know,” he exclaimed as they wound up back at the gated entrance. “I thought maybe that it would return to the Queen’s tomb, but… I guess not,” Dean said, leading the way back to his car.
As Peyton circled the car to the passenger side, she told him, “Maybe you’re overlooking something. Maybe you need to take a step back and go back over everything that you have and look at it from another angle.”
---
Peyton was still asleep when she heard the door open and then slam shut, the loud smack of the door stirring her from sleep, followed by Dean’s less than quiet voice as he spoke on the phone.
Lifting her head, she saw that he was deep in conversation, sitting at the small breakfast table by the window, writing something down. “Thanks,” was all he mumbled into his phone, snapping it shut. Noticing her, he said, “Hey. You’re awake.”
“Now I am no thanks to your door slamming and big mouth,” she said, smiling at him despite her snappy morning disposition. “How long have you been awake?”
“Since early. I couldn’t really sleep. I went back over everything that we’d learned about the queen and then I went and did some research on Lady Guinevere.”
“And did you find anything?” Peyton asked, trying to stifle a yawn as Dean came to sit down beside her.
“Actually, I did. It seems we’re not the only ones curious about the Queen. Lady Guinevere’s been researching for her the past few years. More recently she’s been dabbling with the dark arts and I found this in her trashcan,” Dean said, pulling a scrap of paper out of his pocket to hand to Peyton.
“You went rummaging through the woman’s trash?” she asked, plugging her nose after getting a whiff of his vile smell.
“Her trash is our pay dirt,” he said, pointing to the torn out incantation that he’d found. “This is ritual to summon a spirit.”
“And you’re telling me this because…”
“That’s what all of this has to do with. She’s summoning the Queen’s spirit to become more powerful.”
“But she’s a voodoo woman. Isn’t she already powerful?”
Dean shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how powerful she is or isn’t. These paramours are always looking for ways to increase their strength, their power and their skill. Lady Guinevere has always aspired to be more powerful than the Queen but never succeeded. Until, that is, she got hold of the Queen’s book.”
“So we’re back to the book.”
Dean nodded, “We’re back to the book. And I found what the hearts have to do with all of this.”
“What’s that?” Peyton asked, finally intrigued by her boyfriend’s… hobby.
“They’re part of the invoking spell. She’s got to have five human hearts.”
“Oh, that’s just gross. But there’s only been four murders, right?”
“Right.”
“Which means she’ll be looking for another victim.”
“You catch on quick,” Dean told her as he pushed himself to his feet, looking back at her wearily.
“So where does that leave us?”
Dean pointed at her, saying, “Funny you should ask…”
---
“Just for the record, Dean, I hate you. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!” Peyton stewed as they sat in the car a few blocks away from Lady Guinevere’s shop.
“You’ve been saying that since we left the hotel,” he reminded her. He liked it about as much as she did, but there was no one else. She had to be the one to seek the old woman’s help. And he’d be there to save her. He wouldn’t let her get hurt. “And I told you that nothing was going to happen.”
“You said that, but don’t hold it against me if I don’t believe you!”
“I get that you’re scared.”
“Of course I’m scared, you nitwit! You’re sending me into a shop with a grave robbing, cat transforming, heart stealing voodoo woman!”
“Now, when you say it like….”
Peyton’s hand clamped over his mouth, warning him, “Don’t you even finish that sentence! Or else I’ll have that woman come out here and hex you so that you won’t ever be able to use your tongue again.” Dean’s widened eyes caused her to back her hand away slowly. “Sorry. I’m a little high strung right now,” she apologized.
“It’s okay,” he nodded, reaching across the front seat for her hand. “Hey, I swear to you I’ll be in there before she can do anything to you.”
“You better be,” Peyton said, grabbing for the handle. “Here goes nothing.”
---
Dean loitered outside Lady Guinevere’s shop, watching as she and Peyton talked. So far so good, he thought, listening as Peyton repeated what he’d instructed her to say: that her boyfriend had just broken up with her and she wanted him back. Original, wasn’t he?
Unfortunately, that plan was shot to hell when he heard the voodoo woman tell Peyton that she was lying. “Shit,” he cursed before he began running for the door.
The woman shook her head, insisting, “No, no, no. He’s leaving ya, but ya want him ta stay.”
“Yes, it’s true. He is leaving me. He said that what we had would only last throughout the summer, but that’s as far as it would go. I don’t want him to leave. Make him stay. Please.”
Peyton watched as an evil smirk graced the woman’s face. Peyton tried to remain calm as the woman grabbed her hand, slashing her palm with her fingernail. As she yelped, the old woman began chanting.
Worry began to grip her like a vise, but luckily Dean chose that moment to burst through the door, yelling, “Alright, voodoo bitch. Session’s over.” Looking at Peyton, he said, “You didn’t pay her did you?”
Peyton showed him her hand, spatting, “She kinda took my payment in blood.”
Pointing his gun at the old woman, he said, “Where’s the book?”
“Wat book?”
“The Queen’s book. Give us the goddamn book!” Dean yelled as Peyton made her way to stand behind him.
Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, “Nice entrance, by the way. I like the kicking in of the door. It was very Bad Boys of you.”
Dean nodded his head, not taking his eyes off the voodoo woman. “Thanks. It’s always nice when your moves are appreciated. Even by your girlfriend who threatened to put a hex on you.”
Peyton blushed. “I was upset. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re forgiven. If I was you and I was dating me… I’d want to put a hex on me, too or you know”
“Uh, Dean…,” Peyton tapped her boyfriend’s arm, jutting her head toward the voodoo woman where she was now glowing. And floating off the ground.
Had Peyton not been so consumed by the fact that the voodoo woman was glowing and floating she may have been of more help, but she was so entranced by the show that she didn’t notice that her boyfriend had left her side and was making his way toward the voodoo woman.
The second Dean got close enough the light show came to an abrupt halt as the woman transformed into a black cat right there in front of him. “What the…?” he muttered as the cat meowed, then ran between his legs and out the door.
Snapping out of her daze, Peyton watched as Dean took off after the cat, taking that as her cue to look for the spell book.
Dean was under the impression that Lady Guinevere had the book tucked away in her shop. Peyton had disagreed, though, insisting that would be too obvious.
But Lady Guinevere obviously wasn’t a clever voodooist since the book was sitting open on the desk in her office.
Meanwhile Dean was walking down the back alley, still in search of the voodoocatwoman. “Here, kitty, kitty,” he prodded, his gun hoisted in front him. “I’m not gonna hurt you… but I might shoot ya,” he continued to prod as he kicked aside trashcans and empty cardboard boxes in his search for the small creature. “You’re a damn cat where the hell could you have disappeared to?!”
And then he remembered that he‘d left Peyton alone in the shop. “Damn!”
Dean ran at warp speed to get back to the shop, but Peyton nor Lady Guinevere were nowhere in sight.
Cursing under his breath, he stalked back to his car, hoping against hope that they were at the cemetery.
---
Peyton tried to the ignore the slice of the rope against the open wound on her palm as she struggled to free herself from her confines.
She couldn’t see the voodoo woman anywhere, but she could smell incense or something like it burning nearby. She knew that they were back in the cemetery because she was lying in front of the Queen’s tomb.
Candles burned around her accompanied with various oddities including five jars, four of them filled with human hearts. The last was empty and she could only guess that it was being saved for her.
For her heart.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft flick of a tongue against her cheek which was soon replaced by fingers caressing her cheek. Feminine fingers.
Opening her eyes she saw that it was the woman. Chills ran down her spine as the woman leaned close to her ear, whispering, “It be ova soon, der. Quick an’ painful. Den ya be wit de angels.”
Peyton kicked and moved as her shirt was torn open. She saw the blade from the knife as it inched it’s way slowly to her skin, then she heard it.
Him.
Dean.
“This ain’t gonna happen, Guinevere. You’re not gonna do this.”
“Fool,” she laughed, stabbing the knife into the ground beside Peyton’s head. Dean’s eyes widened as she morphed into the cat once again.
This one was much bigger, though, and took the shape of a Panther.
The Panther snarled at him, but Dean didn’t think twice about shooting. He began and didn’t stop until he’d emptied the clip.
After the Panther had transformed back into the voodoo woman, Dean ran to Peyton’s side, quickly untying her, pulling her into his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked even though he knew she wasn’t.
She was far from okay.
And it was all his fault.
---
Dean was steadily stuffing his clothes into his duffel, his eyes shifting to the door, wondering when Peyton was going to return.
They hadn’t talked much since the night before. After he’d burned the spell book to ensure that some other power hungry deity wouldn’t follow in Guinevere‘s footsteps, he and Peyton had stuck around to answer whatever questions the cops may have had.
He’d done a service for the community, one of the officers had told him. Some service, though. He had almost sacrificed his girlfriend to a mad voodoo woman.
Yeah, he wished he could look at differently, but the only way he saw it was that he’d put his girlfriend in danger. It was his fault that Peyton had come so close to being slaughtered.
Her rightful place was back in Tree Hill. He should’ve never agreed to let her tag along. But he was so bending to her.
That had been his first mistake. He had let her too close. He had let himself get too close. He’d let Peyton into his heart and for that they had both suffered.
But she didn’t have to continue to suffer. He may have put her in danger this time, but if he was good at anything, it was learning from his mistakes.
And this was one mistake that he wouldn’t make twice.
Zipping his bag, he looked at the clock once more having given up on Peyton’s return. He had just hoisted the duffel over his shoulder when the door opened and she stepped inside. “Going somewhere?” she asked, closing the door behind herself.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I was just going to put this in the car. I figured we may as well get on the road so that I can get you home.”
“We have to talk about it, Dean. We have to talk about what happened.”
“I’d rather we didn’t.”
“Dean…”
“I put you in danger. I almost got you killed.”
“This isn’t your fault, Dean. We couldn’t have known what was going to happen.”
Dropping his bag at his feet, he kicked it in frustration, yelling, “Don’t do that!”
“Do what?” Peyton asked, confused.
“Protect me. Don’t wipe everything away like it’s all fine and dandy. It’s not. I knew what the dangers were and still I let you come and I concocted that stupid ass plan… I shouldn’t have ever let you…”
“Stop right there,” Peyton demanded, stalking across the room toward him. “I am not some fucking porcelain doll. I bend. I break. I bleed. Just like you. Just like everyone else. I won’t have you treating me like I’m this innocent little girl because I’m not. Sure, the last thing I expected was to become some pawn in this little hunt of yours, but I only got a few scratches out of it. Overall, I’m okay.”
Dean grabbed her hand, turning it over to point to the gauze wrapped around her palm. “You’re not okay and this… this isn’t okay. Not anymore.”
“What are you saying, Dean?” Peyton asked, her bottom lip quivering from the outpouring of everything hitting her a once.
She had spent the last few hours walking the French Quarter lost in thought, trying to piece together her thoughts on the last few days.
She had made the decision to come with Dean to New Orleans. He had warned her how dangerous it could be, but she didn’t care. She had to be with him.
So she’d gotten a little banged up in the process. They were war wounds. It was a reminder to her that they were worth fighting for. She wasn’t going to give up that easily and she wasn’t going to let him do so either.
Things would be so much simpler this way, Dean thought as he looked back at Peyton. But on which of them would it be easier on? Him since he was the one wanting to call it quits to protect her? Her because he was the one willing to walk away? Both of them?
Ending things wouldn’t be easy on either of them, he reasoned. They would both hurt. Emotionally. Physically. But he could live with hurting. He could take the emotional and physical pain of losing Peyton, of walking away from her if it meant that she’d be safe.
But living with himself if something happened to her that was a direct result of her being involved with him? That was something he couldn’t endure.
Before he could open his mouth to say what he so desperately wanted to say, Peyton cut him off.
“You know what? No. I’m not going to let you do it.”
“Do what?” he sighed. “Hurt you? Almost get you killed? Because, uh, been there, done that.”
“I’m a part of this and you’re not going to give up that easily, Dean. I got a little banged up, what’s the big deal?”
“Dammit, Peyton, you could’ve died. I almost got you killed and I won’t…,” he choked. “I can’t watch someone else in my life die. I won’t let you die.”
“Then you’ll have to stick around to protect me.”
---
Peyton had slept on the majority of the ride home and Dean had been grateful for the silence. He hadn’t wanted to talk further about what had happened in New Orleans. He was happy to leave it where it was. But he knew it wouldn’t stay there. Not for long.
He breathed a sigh of relief as they entered Tree Hill. Night had already fallen and most of the shops were already shut down on the main strip. Karen’s Café, however, wasn’t one of them. Slowing in front of the café, he asked Peyton, “Did you want to stop?”
She quickly shook her head. “Let’s just go home.”
Home. Well, wouldn’t that be nice?
Within ten minutes he was parking outside her house. Turning off the engine, he grabbed their bags from the backseat as Peyton led the way up to the house. “It’s good to be back,” she said as she unlocked the door, leading him inside. Closing the door, she leaned back against it, staring at him as he placed their bags beside the staircase. “So what now?”
Dean stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging. “You could go take a shower, or something.”
“That actually doesn’t sound half bad. What’re you going to do?”
“I have a few calls to return,” he said as he extracted his phone from his pocket.
“Okay,” she said with a nod of her head. With a kiss to his cheek, she said, “Don’t be too long.”
Dean watched her make her way upstairs before he stepped onto the porch. Dialing his voicemail box, he listened through the many voicemails left by Lucas and Haley, but had never been more relieved to hear his dad’s voice.
His relief suddenly dissipated as he listened to the message through.
“Dean… something is starting to happen. I think it’s serious. I need to try to figure out what’s going on. Be very careful Dean. We’re all in danger.”
The majority of the message was drowned out by static, but it didn’t calm Dean’s feelings whatsoever that this was something to be easily ignored.
Be very careful Dean. We’re all in danger.
The first place his mind went was to Sam who was off at college, ignorant to all the supernatural happenings going on while he was attending classes and frat parties.
Dean snapped his phone shut, leaning his head against the brick wall behind him. This was not what he needed right now not with things with he and Peyton so strained after the events of New Orleans.
He banged his head against the wall, hating how everything was falling into place.
But one thing remained certain.
He’d have to leave. Even though with every fiber of his being he didn’t want to, he couldn’t ignore this.
His dad was in trouble and needed his help. This was a lead that he had to follow through.
And he had to do it without Peyton.
---
Dean took one last longing look at Peyton before he slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the room. He was at the door downstairs when he heard, “You weren’t even going to say goodbye?”
Dean bent his head, turning slowly to look toward the stairs where Peyton stood staring down at him. Slowly she began her descent down the stairs as he dropped his duffel at his feet. “I just figured that it’d be easier to just leave.”
“Easier for who, Dean? You?”
“No. Of course not.”
She shook her head, scoffing, “You’re such a coward.”
“I am not,” he insisted, even though he really was. Otherwise, why did he wait for her to go to sleep before he snuck out of her room. Coward didn’t even begin to cover what he was.
“Yes, you are. The entire summer you’ve ran from how you really feel about me, about us and now at the first opportunity you’re doing the exact thing that you’ve wanted to do all along -you’re running.”
“I am not running!” he shouted. “My father needs me.”
“I need you!”
Dean crossed the space between them quickly, pulling her into his arms as she started to cry. “Shh…,” he began to soothe her. “Don’t cry, Peyton. Please, don’t cry.”
“Then don’t leave, Dean. Please?”
“You know I can’t stay. I have to go.”
“Then, let me come with you.”
Dean shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. Besides, school is starting soon. You can’t skip school.”
Peyton wiped at her tears, nodding her head. “I’m being selfish.”
“You’re allowed to be,” he told her quietly. “You know I’d stay, but…”
“Your dad needs you.” Peyton nodded her head. Even though he was leaving for what she feared was much longer this time, she knew that he had to go. His family was way too important to him to just abandon them for her. “You have a job to do. You should go.”
But his feet didn’t move. Instead, he dipped his head to attack her mouth, then swept her into his arms to carry her upstairs.
---
After Peyton had fallen back asleep, Dean had laid awake watching her, committing every contour of her face to memory knowing that this was the last time he’d look at her for a long time.
Possibly forever.
He didn’t want to leave her, but he was needed elsewhere. He knew he was needed here, too, but he couldn’t turn his back on his family.
Slipping out of bed, he scooped up his jeans from the floor, quietly sliding them up his legs. them back on.
Crossing the room to Peyton’s desk, Dean quickly found a notebook and a pen, his eyes returning to her sleeping form once more before he sat down in her desk chair and began scribbling his parting words onto paper.
---
With his duffel slung over his shoulder and his letter to Peyton in hand, Dean crossed to the bed, placing the letter on the pillow beside her.
Sitting down beside her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering, “I’m sorry I have to leave like this… while you’re still asleep. You were right. I am a coward. But I can’t watch you watch me leave. And I sure as hell can’t watch you cry as I’m leaving. It’ll be easier on both of us this way.”
Dean just wished that he honestly believed that.
“We both knew this day would come. I just hate that it finally did. You know if this wasn’t important I wouldn’t be leaving. But maybe it‘s better this way.”
Dean wiped at his eyes, not enjoying the feel of the tears stinging his eyes. He knew that it was going to hard to leave, but he hadn’t thought it’d be this hard.
Smoothing his hand down her hair, he whispered, “Goodbye, Peyton,” and after a kiss to her lips, made his way toward the door without a look back, fully aware of what he was leaving behind.
“Speak, woman,” Dean said, glancing at her. “What’s your problem? You‘ve been mumbling and grumbling to yourself for the past ten minutes. What gives?”
“Your cassette collection, Dean. It leaves much to be desired,” Peyton whined. She liked the guitar rock just as much as he did. But she also liked variety. Preferred it, actually. And Dean’s collection did not embody variety. Didn’t even so much as hint at it.
“What’s wrong with my cassette collection?”
“They’re. Cassette. Tapes. Join the 21st century, why don’t you? You‘ve heard of a CD player, haven’t you?”
Dean rolled his eyes. This was why girls weren‘t allowed on hunting trips. They whined and complained and acted… girly. “I don’t complain about your angry girl music so stop complaining about mine. Besides, you’re the one that wanted to tag along, remember?”
Peyton pushed the box back onto floor as she told, “Yeah, I remember. And I figured that you’d have better car music. Metallica? Megadeth? Black Sabbath? Dean… seriously, dude?”
Eyes snapping to her he asked, shocked and a little appalled, “Did you just called me dude?”
Peyton knitted her brows as she adjusted the air conditioning vents away from herself. “Yeah, so?”
“Don’t call me, dude.”
“Come on, dude.”
Dean glanced at her, huffing, “Okay, now you’re just abusing the word and it’s doing a stellar job of turning me on so… Stop it!”
Peyton laughed as her head fell back against the headrest. “How long before we get there?”
“A while. We’ll probably stop in Georgia for the night,” he looked at her, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, please. Is that all you think about?”
“Besides food? Uh… yes.”
They both giggled as Peyton slid across the seat closer to him. “Haley and Lucas are going to freak when they find out that I left with you.”
“They’ll just be jealous that they couldn’t tag along,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to bring her closer. “I am glad that you came.”
“I’m glad that you let me.” Reaching forward toward the center controls, Peyton lowered the air conditioner as she asked him, “Is it really dangerous?”
“Sometimes. Depends on what we’re dealing with.”
“Have you ever gotten hurt?”
“A few times,” he said vaguely.
“Be honest.”
Dean sighed. He shouldn‘t be uncomfortable talking about his past exploits with Peyton but for some reason he was. She was interested in what he did. He should be thankful and not looking the gift horse in the mouth.
But why couldn‘t she ask about some of the things he’d killed rather the things that had weakened him?
“Once… I was lit on fire by an apparition.” Hearing Peyton’s quick intake of breath, he added, “But it was kinda my fault. I mean, I was the idiot with the lighter.”
“You’re saying that a ghost set you on fire?”
“Well, when you say it like that….”
Peyton sat upright. “Dean. I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you and you’re not holding up your end.”
He kept his attention on the road which was a hard task given Peyton’s close proximity. “It was my first hunt by myself,” he began to explain. “I was used to having my dad or Sam around to lend a hand. Trying to do everything by myself was something new for me. ”
“Were you badly burned?”
“Nah. Lucky for me the ghost was a suck shot,” he tried to joke. His laughter diminished when Peyton clawed her fingernails into his thigh. “Owowowow,” he whined.
“That’s not funny.”
“Obviously, you had to be there.“ Wrinkling his nose, at her he told her, “You’re no fun,” rubbing his hand across his thigh and sending a glare in her direction as he exited the interstate. “That shit hurt, Peyton!”
“It wasn’t supposed to tickle,” she told him, slightly amused by his pain. When she’d noticed that they had turned off, she asked, “What are we doing?”
“We’re getting a hotel.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m tired of driving.”
Peyton chewed on her lip, then stated flatly, “I can drive.”
Dean slammed on the brakes at the stop sign at the end of the off ramp. “Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think so.” Since his dad had passed the Impala on to him, no one had driven it. Ever. Not by his own accordance, anyway. Sam had driven it a time or two, but that was only when he and his dad had been teaching his younger sibling how to drive.
“Why not? And don’t call me sweetheart. It sounds so fake coming out of your mouth.”
“No one drives my car. No one. Not even you.”
“Please?” she continued to beg as Dean made a left turn, scanning the sides of the road for a motel with reasonable rates.
“No,” he told her again. “Ah, there we go,” he said, pulling into the Luxury Inn.
“Why not?” she asked as Dean pulled into a parking space then threw the car into park.
Dean switched off the car, pulling his keys from the ignition as he turned to tell her, “It’s my car.”
Peyton shrugged. “You drive my car.”
Dean ground his teeth. Why were they talking about driving privileges again? “Yeah, but that’s different.”
She wanted to laugh. “How so?”
He locked his eyes on the flashing vacancy sign so that he didn‘t have to look at her as he said, “Because you’re a girl.”
“And that’s a newsflash for you? I‘ve been a girl from the beginning, Einstein. Why’s it a problem now?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s not a problem. I’m just saying that no one drives my car. Besides I‘ve seen the way you drive,” he said, pushing open the door to climb out of the car.
“I can’t believe you have the audacity to ridicule my driving. He who doesn’t drive slower than eighty!” she argued back as she scrambled out of the car.
“Well, you won’t ever get anywhere if you drive the speed limit,” he scoffed as he grabbed their bags from the backseat, closing the door shut behind himself. Dean tossed her bag at her as he asked, “Can we stop talking about this now?”
“That depends…,” she said as she pulled the strap of her bag onto her shoulder. “Can I drive your car?”
Dean smiled as he nodded his head. “Uh, let me think… no,” he told her, leading the way into the office.
---
“Why New Orleans?”
Dean glanced up at Peyton from his perusal of the New Orleans papers as he searched for any auspicious reports. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
Peyton stood at the window, staring out at the busy street below. They‘d only been in New Orleans two hours and already Dean had slipped into investigative mode.
They were staying at right on Bourbon Street. She wondered if it was always this busy during the summer. But considering this was The Big Easy, she assumed it was.
The city bustling below had caught her attention as Dean had settled onto the bed with a stack of newspapers. She ached to go out and explore the city but knew that Dean wouldn’t let her go sightseeing alone. Plus, this was not a vacation as he’d reminded her a million times since they’d left Tree Hill. She should get a tattoo that said that. “You don’t normally know what’s going on when you go on a job?”
“Typically, no. I mean, I either find the jobs myself by looking through the papers or hearing about something on the news, but lately my dad’s been text messaging me places that I should go--places that he can’t go.”
“Where’s your dad now? Why didn’t he come here?”
Dean didn’t talk much about his father. He talked about Sam in length, but his dad? She couldn’t help but wonder why that was. She knew from the way Dean spoke of the eldest Winchester that the two had a complex relationship but something also told her that it went much deeper than that.
Dean didn’t answer for a few moments, consumed by his scroll through the news headlines. Finally, he answered, “He’s in California hunting something else.”
“Found anything?” Peyton asked, hopeful. She’d gone from being cooped up in a car to being cooped up in a hotel. Not that she was complaining because at least Dean was there to keep her company. Although, he wasn’t as much fun when he was concentrated on his “work”.
“Here’s something,” Dean said as an article leapt up at him. “Seems that someone tried to break into the tomb of Marie Laveau, the old Voodoo Queen.”
“Voodoo? Like potions and juju and stuff like that?” she asked, her interest suddenly piqued. She walked away from the window to sit beside him on the bed.
“Something like that,” he told her as his eyes reined in on a series of mysterious deaths. “Okay, I think this is it,” he said, jumping off the bed in a flurry.
“That’s good, right?”
Dean shook his head. “Not necessarily. Someone broke in and stole Marie’s spell book. According to this, which refers to the legend and folklore, it contained powerful incantations and spells.”
Peyton stared up at Dean who continued to mull over the newspaper. “Okay, so why the concern with some old voodoo woman’s book?”
Dean shook his head as he tossed the paper down onto the dresser. Turning back to Peyton, he told her, “I don‘t know, but that‘s what we’re going to find out. Since the book was stolen there’ve been a series of mysterious deaths.”
Peyton scooted to the edge of the bed, staring at him, goosebumps pebbling her arms as she asked, “How mysterious?”
“Their hearts were missing,” Dean told her, trying to smile as an alarmed look washed across Peyton’s face. A second later he told her, “Come on. Grab your jacket.”
“Why?” she asked, bolting to her feet, even as Dean moved toward the door.
“We’re going out.”
---
“So when you said out I expected you meant to like dinner or something,” Peyton told him as they climbed the steps to the public library.
“We aren’t here on vacation, Peyton. This is a job.”
“So you keep reminding me. You know, if this is a job then you shouldn’t be reaping any benefits,” she snapped at him as they reached the top landing.
“Hey, I don’t remember you pushing me away,” he smirked as he reached for the door handle. “In fact, if I remember quickly you tore off my clothes.”
As Dean held open the door, Peyton murmured to herself, “Why am I always attracted to the charming ass holes?” She lead Dean through the doors, stopping quickly as her eyes scanned the various stacks of books, gasping, “Lucas would die in here.”
Dean grabbed her by her shirtsleeve, pointing to a room beyond the stacks to their right. “Come on,” he said, dragging her through the rows of book shelves in the direction of the computer room.
“What are we doing?” Peyton asked as Dean settled at a computer.
“Research,” he answered vaguely. She stood beside him as he settled at the computer, hovering over him as he signed his name on the sign in sheet. Jack Black.
“Why didn’t you just put…?”
“That’s not important,” he told her quickly, knowing that she was going to want an answer as to why he didn’t use his real name. Using aliases had become part of the job and he was used to it. He only used his real name when absolutely necessary.
Peyton let an explanation slide for the time being. But she would find out why he didn’t sign his own name. If Dean Winchester was in fact his name.
Yeah, like now was the time to debate Dean’s honesty. While they were in Louisiana!
“What are we researching?”
Dean regarded her with wide eyes and a mocking laugh. “We?”
“Well, I’m here aren’t I?”
Dean focused on the computer screen, typing as he told her, “Well, that wasn’t by my choice.” When she flicked his ear, he snapped his head up at her. “What’d you do that for?”
“That was rude. You should be thankful that I’m here.”
“I should?” he frowned.
“Yes.”
Dean sighed, taking her off-guard when he grabbed her hips, pulling her onto his lap. “I am glad you’re here, Peyton. I just don’t like that you’re here. Does that make sense?” He wanted her with him, but at the same time he wanted her safe at home in Tree Hill. He wasn’t sure if he could concentrate on the case at hand and have to worry about her safety as well.
Plus, it was New Orleans. Anything could happen here.
“Not really, but I understand,” she said with a nod of her head. “I just… I want to be with you.”
“I know you do and I‘m glad, but we’re not Mulder and Scully. This is not going to be a regular thing you tagging along on my jobs.”
“Why not?” she snapped. She figured he’d welcome the company. Of course, these trips with him would not become a regular thing since she would be returning to school soon. And on that thought, she groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted to do was think about school right now.
“Because.”
“Because is not an answer,” she retaliated.
“Because I worry less when you’re in Tree Hill. At least I know Lucas is there to take care of you,” he said, stumbling over his own words. He was still getting used to the fact that Lucas and Peyton shared a past. But because they were all friends, Dean didn’t want their past to interfere with his relationships with both of them. “Whereas if something were to happen to me here, there’d be no one,” he carried on.
“Hey,” Peyton interjected, cupping his face in her palms. “Nothing is going to happen to you. Don‘t you even start talking like that.”
Hearing the clearing of a throat somewhere behind them, both Dean and Peyton looked behind them, realizing that they weren’t alone in the small computer room. “Sorry,” Peyton apologized, sliding off Dean’s lap into the chair beside him. She pointed at the computer. “Get to work.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to sit here and watch you,” she grinned, wondering if he even knew how to surf the internet. The thought amused her, causing her to giggle aloud.
Dean peered at her wearily, asking, “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” she insisted with a shake of her head.
“Girls. I swear,” Dean muttered under his breath, returning his attention to the computer screen and his impending internet search.
Twenty minutes later as Peyton was about to fall sleep from boredom, Dean exclaimed, “I think I found something.”
“What?” she asked as he scrolled through a website dedicated to the paranormal and voodoo in New Orleans.
“Gimme a second, will ya?” Dean said, skimming over the contents of the web page for any useful information. Pausing, he added, “Okay. Here were go. New Orleans was home to the Voodoo Queen, as they called her back in the 1800s, Marie Laveau. She blended voodoo with her Catholic heritage using Holy water and candles for rituals,” he read off the page. Turning away from the screen, he added, “She was the first of two. I remember this now. After she died, her daughter took her place.”
“And how do you know this exactly?”
“Please! We would research the occult and the paranormal like crazy when I was younger. Dad would have Sam and I pouring over books about anything and everything supernatural,” he explained.
“You think these murders have anything to do with this voodoo woman?”
“I can’t be sure. I mean, the Queen is a legend around these parts. Plus, her spell book was taken. It has to be all linked somehow.”
“But the missing hearts? Is that a typical trade in voodoo?”
Dumbfounded, Dean spat out, “How the hell am I supposed to know?”
“You were trained to a warrior, were you not?”
“You gonna throw that back in my face every time I don’t have an answer for you?”
Rolling her eyes, Peyton gestured to the computer. “What else does it say about her? Maybe it‘ll give us some more incite.” Peyton pushed her chair closer, leaning toward the screen so that she could read the web page as well.
“All it says, Peyton, is that she was the Voodoo Queen back in her heyday, which we already know. She was a hairdresser by trade which allowed her inside the confines of the New Orleans elite,” Dean told her as he read off the browser. “It says that she hexed a few of them. The murders seem don’t seem like her M.O, though. The people that have died weren’t from well-known families and they don‘t have anything in common from what I‘ve read.“ Shaking his head, Dean continued his perusal saying, “It doesn’t make sense.“
“What doesn’t?“
“Marie was more concerned with love spells than anything else.”
Personally, Dean thought it was all just a bunch of hocus pocus. Voodoo queens? Come on! Did the Cajuns really believe this shit? But then again, who really believed half the shit that he had beared witness to over the years? It was a high possibility that there was truth to the legend. No matter how hokey it all sounded.
“So this may not be her, then?”
Dean continued to read as he said, “Not necessarily. Listen to this. Many believe that the Queen returned on St. John’s Eve to hold court over a spectacular voodoo ritual.”
Peyton eyed Dean skeptically as he clicked out of the page and bolted to his feet. “What are you thinking? Dean?”
“I’m thinking that someone’s cooking up some hoodoo. We just have to find out who it is.”
Dean quickly bolted to his feet, then stalked out of the room with Peyton lagging behind, exclaiming, “What did you just say?” as she followed him out.
---
“Where the hell are we, Dean?” Peyton asked as the car pulled to a stop in a nest of trees. Wearily, Peyton pushed open her door, stepping outside, slapping at the mosquitoes that buzzed around her. “Great. I’m sure to catch the West Nile now that we’re in the swamps,” she muttered as Dean made his way to the rear of the car.
“If we’re gonna find out what happened to those dead people, we have to go at this thing from every angle. Now, the guy I talked to this afternoon said that Madame Lunette is the latest practioner of the voodoo. She lives through those trees,” he said, pointing to the brushes where the front of the Impala was pointed.
“So, what? We just storm in there and demand answers?” she asked, annoyed when she didn’t receive an immediate answer. “Dean… what are you doing back there?” she asked, hearing clinging and clattering coming from around the back of the car.
When she walked back to meet him, her eyes widened at the massive amount of weaponry in his trunk. “Whoa,” was all she could say.
It was all becoming too real to her now. This was actually Dean’s life. This… crusader was really who Dean was. Although, she had yet to see any evidence of him proving her wrong in the paranormal front. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him because she did. She was just the seeing-is-believing kind of girl.
Reaching into the trunk, she grabbed the first weapon she saw which happened to be one of Dean’s pistols. She pointed it at him, eyes darkening, when he snatched the gun away from her. “Honey, that’s not a play toy,” he told her, replacing the gun to it’s rightful place. “Besides, it’s loaded. You could shoot me.”
“And that’d be a bad thing, right?” Dean took a moment to smile at her, before returning to his scan of the trunk. “Do you actually use all this stuff?”
“You’d be amazed at what comes in handy,” he sighed, shifting through his weapons. What was good protection against a voodoo woman? Somehow he doubted the rock salt would do much good. Grabbing his pistol, he cocked it to make sure that it was loaded, then stuffed it at the back of his pants, making sure that it was hidden behind his shirttail.
“Crafty, aren’t you?” Peyton asked as he slammed the trunk shut.
“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand.
---
“Well, that was a waste,” Dean muttered, slamming his keys down on the dresser.
“You’re being too hard on yourself. How were you to know that Madame Lunette was a psychic and not some psycho voodooist?” Peyton offered, closing the door behind herself.
Dean had been beating himself up over the bogus lead since they had left Madame Lunette’s cabin. His “source” hadn’t been that resourceful since as it turned out Madame Lunette was nothing but your regular run of the mill Miss Cleo. Except with a Louisiana accent.
“I just hate being pulled in the wrong direction,” he complained, throwing himself down on the bed. He felt the bed dip a few moments later when Peyton curled up beside him.
“Then, tomorrow you’ll go out and find something more concrete.”
Wrapping his arm around her to pull her closer, Dean sighed, whispering, “You know, I’m getting used to this whole supportive girlfriend thing. I’m going to be at a loss when you’re not around to pump my ego.”
Silence stretched between them for what seemed like a millennia until Peyton murmured, “You’re not going anywhere yet so let’s just cross that bridge whenever we come to it, hmm?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he breathed heavily.
“Of course I am,” she said, throwing her legs over his to straddle his waist. “And right now I’m not interested in talking anymore,” Peyton told him before her mouth crashed against his.
---
Later that night Dean and Peyton lay curled up in bed, the sheets wrapped tightly around them. “You’re quiet,” Peyton whispered, interrupting the silence that lingered between them.
“Sorry,” Dean apologized, running his hand across her back. “Just… thinking,” he murmured through into the dark, encompassed by thoughts of the past few days.
Peyton veered her head back asking, “About what?”
“My dad, mostly.”
“Uh… okay.”
Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “No… I mean… being here with you it makes me think about later on. The future and what comes after we find this demon.”
Peyton felt her eyes moisten. “You think that far ahead?”
“Well… yeah. I’m twenty-six, Peyton. I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be normal. I want to settle somewhere, get married, have kids. I want all that. It’s what my parents had before…”
“… before your mother’s death?” she offered, knowing that even though his mother had been gone after twenty years it was still a sore subject for him. All the times they had talked about her, she could see the pain in his eyes and hear the sadness in his voice. Even after all this time he was still grieving in the same respect that she still grieved her own mother.
The likeness between them was uncanny to a scary degree, she thought wryly.
“They were happy. We were happy. We were normal… and then… and then we weren’t,” he said, adding the latter part in barely a whisper.
“You can be normal again, Dean. You will be normal again,” Peyton assured him.
Dean liked that she was so optimistic. He, however, wasn’t so much. He knew what the stakes were. There was a demon out there waiting to be brought down. But chances were that it wouldn’t end with that one. Chances were that the fight only started with the fire demon that had succeeded in tearing his family apart.
But he didn’t dare tell Peyton that. He may have brought her into the fold, but this wasn’t her fight and he wouldn’t her be a part of it.
“I only wished that I could be as sure as you, Peyton.”
Peyton sat up abruptly hugging the sheet to her chest as she told him, “You know I really hate your woe is me attitude, Dean.” She backed against the headboard, pushing her hair behind her ears as Dean turned on his side toward her.
Scoffing, he said, “Like you’re one to talk, Peyton! You’re not exactly Miss Ray of Sunshine, you know. You have more issues than… a magazine with a lot of issues!”
“Yeah, well… maybe you’re right. Maybe I do have a lot of issues.”
“There ain’t no maybe to it, sweetheart.”
“At least I own up to my issues. You bury them and pretend they don’t exist. If the situation with Ellie has taught me anything it’s that our worlds are always thrown into upheaval. You can either let it consume you or you can stand up, dust yourself off and move on. But you’re not moving on, Dean. You’re standing in the same position, refusing to move forward.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Peyton.”
“No? What about Sam?”
Dean sat up to face her. It was nice to know that they had gotten away from Tree Hill, but had brought their issues along for the road trip. They’d gone from snuggling to arguing.
About Sam!
And his issues. He didn’t even have issues!
Okay. Maybe he did have issues, but he did not have a woe-is-me attitude.
Did he?
“You whine about not speaking to your brother but have you picked up the phone at least once to call him?” When Dean looked away, she knew that he wasn‘t even going to try to deny it.
“He left. Why should I be the one to call?”
“You’re the older brother. Don’t you think it’s your place to make the first call? You know, Sam probably misses you as much as you miss him.”
“Somehow I doubt that he does. You know, it ain’t like he’d pick up the phone if I called anyway. And, hey, let’s get one thing straight. I do not miss him.”
That was a lie, of course. He did miss his brother. But would he admit it? Hell no. He missed his dad, too, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit to that, either.
“Why because you’re too much of a man to miss your baby brother?” Grabbing the pillow from behind her back, she hit him over the head with it. “Get over it, already!”
“Hey! Stop that!” he yelled when she began continuously knocking him in the head with the feathered pillow.
“No!” Peyton said, continuing her attack.
“I’m warning you…”
Peyton paused for a second to ask, “What’re you gonna do? Huh, Winchester?” Then, she hit him once more.
The words had barely escaped her mouth before she found herself flat on her back, Dean hovering above her. Holding her wrists above her head, Dean leaned in close, whispering, “In all fairness, I did warn you.”
“So you did…,” Peyton agreed, gasping for air as he ground his hips into her. A pleasured groan escaped her lips like they hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes squabbling. Most of their fevered lovemaking sessions had come on the heels of an argument. It was their idea of foreplay.
“I’m beginning to rather arguing with you,” he said breathlessly as they tumbled toward ecstasy once again.
---
Dean had ventured out by himself the following morning, leaving Peyton alone in the hotel room to catch up on her sleep.
They hadn’t gotten much rest the night before between their long conversations-slash-arguments and even longer romps through the sheets. He hadn’t been wrong when he’d told himself that this trip would be different.
Peyton knew the truth now. He no longer had to keep anything from her and that openness had brought them closer together. They still annoyed one another now and again, but Dean couldn’t picture making the trip to New Orleans without her.
He had stood watching her for a good five minutes, debating with himself rather or not to wake her up, but in the end he had left her to her snoring.
Besides, he’d wanted to do some investigating by himself.
After visiting numerous sources and members of the victims’ families, Dean found himself at the cemetery that the Queen was buried in.
He was no closer to finding the culprit responsible for the mysterious deaths and the heart snatching.
But he would admit that he was a tad distracted.
Maybe a few hours away from Peyton would get his mind on the right track and focused on what was important.
Hunting.
---
Peyton leapt off the bed the moment she heard the key in the lock, breathing a sigh of relief when Dean stepped through the door, greeting her with a wide smile and, “Hey! You’re up!”
Who’d he think she was? Yogi Bear? It was five o’clock in the afternoon! Of course she’d be awake.
“That’s all I get?” she snapped, annoyed that his greeting hadn’t been accompanied with an explanation on where he’d been all day. He had left her all day long to do God knows what! He could’ve at least left her note or called. He hadn’t even bothered to call!
“Right, right. Stupid me. I almost forgot…,” he said, crossing the room to greet her more properly.
“That’s not what I was talking about,” she said, breaking off their kiss with a swift shove to his chest that sent him ricocheting backward onto the mattress.
Laughing, Dean apologized, “I’m sorry I left you.”
“So then why did you?”
“I needed to do some work by myself. It’s easier for me to investigate without you being there,” he explained, closing his eyes immediately, knowing that Peyton was going to take his words out of context.
And, of course, she didn’t disappoint, spatting, “So I’m in your way?”
Dean’s head snapped up to meet hers, telling her, “Now you know that’s not what I meant.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her down beside him on the bed. “I didn’t just dawdle while I was out, you know. I managed to find out some things of importance.”
Peyton crossed her arms, looking away, clearly telling him that she was not interested in hearing what he’d uncovered. But he told her anyway.
“I found the link between all the victims. They had all paid visit to the latest voodoo practioner here in New Orleans whose name is not Madame Lunette. That should’ve been my first clue. How many voodoo women are Madame’s? Anyway, apparently, Lady Guinevere worked some mojo on each of them.”
“What’d she do?”
“Glad you asked that. Love spells.”
“Love spells?”
“Not just any love spells, either. The Queen’s love spells.”
All the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place, finally. “So this Lady Guinevere broke into the Queen’s tomb for a book of spells?”
“Yes, but here’s the kicker,” Dean continued, so excited that he had to stand up. “The Queen was buried with her book so that no one could copy her work. Before she died she’d passed on all her knowledge to her daughter who took her place but not before chronicling all her secrets in her book. But it seems that Lady Guinevere’s voodoo is a lot darker than the Queen’s ever was. She disappeared a few days ago, just following the last murder. Now, no one has seen her, but there has been a black cat loitering around her shop.”
Peyton stared at her boyfriend questiongly, wondering if he’d lost his head somewhere between Tree Hill and New Orleans. “A cat? That’s raising some red flags? Dean, come on. Be serious. What’s a stupid cat got to do with anything?”
“Well, in some tales witches, voodooists and the like were believed to have the ability to transform into animals. A ritual was involved, of course, but in some instances a dabbler in the occult was able to change their appearance and take on animal shape.”
“Okay, what are you going with this?”
“I think that Guinevere is able to transform into a cat.”
“Okay, do you know how crazy you sound?” Peyton asked him.
“Believe me I know how it sounds. But I told you, Peyton, that there were things that you wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m just not used to all this… stuff. I’m having trouble believing that a woman can transform herself into a cat. It’s just too Harry Potter for me.”
“Welcome to my world,” Dean sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.
“But what’s the spell book stealing and the cat transformation got to do with the missing hearts?”
Dean looked over at her, murmuring, “That’s what I have yet to figure out.”
---
Peyton kept close behind Dean, not enjoying the fact that they were tiptoeing through a cemetery in the middle of the night. “What are we doing here again?” she whispered, keeping a tight hold on Dean’s jacket.
“We’re looking for the blasted cat,” Dean told her, shining his flashlight looking for any signs of the animal. “And why are you whispering? Scared we wake the dead?”
“No. Well… yeah,” she said, a little sheepishly as Dean spun around to face her.
“They’re not gonna jump out and attack you. At least I don’t think they will,” he said, adding the latter under his breath as he resumed their hunt for the mysterious black cat.
“Dean, we’ve combed over every inch of this cemetery and it’s not here.”
“I know,” he exclaimed as they wound up back at the gated entrance. “I thought maybe that it would return to the Queen’s tomb, but… I guess not,” Dean said, leading the way back to his car.
As Peyton circled the car to the passenger side, she told him, “Maybe you’re overlooking something. Maybe you need to take a step back and go back over everything that you have and look at it from another angle.”
---
Peyton was still asleep when she heard the door open and then slam shut, the loud smack of the door stirring her from sleep, followed by Dean’s less than quiet voice as he spoke on the phone.
Lifting her head, she saw that he was deep in conversation, sitting at the small breakfast table by the window, writing something down. “Thanks,” was all he mumbled into his phone, snapping it shut. Noticing her, he said, “Hey. You’re awake.”
“Now I am no thanks to your door slamming and big mouth,” she said, smiling at him despite her snappy morning disposition. “How long have you been awake?”
“Since early. I couldn’t really sleep. I went back over everything that we’d learned about the queen and then I went and did some research on Lady Guinevere.”
“And did you find anything?” Peyton asked, trying to stifle a yawn as Dean came to sit down beside her.
“Actually, I did. It seems we’re not the only ones curious about the Queen. Lady Guinevere’s been researching for her the past few years. More recently she’s been dabbling with the dark arts and I found this in her trashcan,” Dean said, pulling a scrap of paper out of his pocket to hand to Peyton.
“You went rummaging through the woman’s trash?” she asked, plugging her nose after getting a whiff of his vile smell.
“Her trash is our pay dirt,” he said, pointing to the torn out incantation that he’d found. “This is ritual to summon a spirit.”
“And you’re telling me this because…”
“That’s what all of this has to do with. She’s summoning the Queen’s spirit to become more powerful.”
“But she’s a voodoo woman. Isn’t she already powerful?”
Dean shook his head. “Doesn’t matter how powerful she is or isn’t. These paramours are always looking for ways to increase their strength, their power and their skill. Lady Guinevere has always aspired to be more powerful than the Queen but never succeeded. Until, that is, she got hold of the Queen’s book.”
“So we’re back to the book.”
Dean nodded, “We’re back to the book. And I found what the hearts have to do with all of this.”
“What’s that?” Peyton asked, finally intrigued by her boyfriend’s… hobby.
“They’re part of the invoking spell. She’s got to have five human hearts.”
“Oh, that’s just gross. But there’s only been four murders, right?”
“Right.”
“Which means she’ll be looking for another victim.”
“You catch on quick,” Dean told her as he pushed himself to his feet, looking back at her wearily.
“So where does that leave us?”
Dean pointed at her, saying, “Funny you should ask…”
---
“Just for the record, Dean, I hate you. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this!” Peyton stewed as they sat in the car a few blocks away from Lady Guinevere’s shop.
“You’ve been saying that since we left the hotel,” he reminded her. He liked it about as much as she did, but there was no one else. She had to be the one to seek the old woman’s help. And he’d be there to save her. He wouldn’t let her get hurt. “And I told you that nothing was going to happen.”
“You said that, but don’t hold it against me if I don’t believe you!”
“I get that you’re scared.”
“Of course I’m scared, you nitwit! You’re sending me into a shop with a grave robbing, cat transforming, heart stealing voodoo woman!”
“Now, when you say it like….”
Peyton’s hand clamped over his mouth, warning him, “Don’t you even finish that sentence! Or else I’ll have that woman come out here and hex you so that you won’t ever be able to use your tongue again.” Dean’s widened eyes caused her to back her hand away slowly. “Sorry. I’m a little high strung right now,” she apologized.
“It’s okay,” he nodded, reaching across the front seat for her hand. “Hey, I swear to you I’ll be in there before she can do anything to you.”
“You better be,” Peyton said, grabbing for the handle. “Here goes nothing.”
---
Dean loitered outside Lady Guinevere’s shop, watching as she and Peyton talked. So far so good, he thought, listening as Peyton repeated what he’d instructed her to say: that her boyfriend had just broken up with her and she wanted him back. Original, wasn’t he?
Unfortunately, that plan was shot to hell when he heard the voodoo woman tell Peyton that she was lying. “Shit,” he cursed before he began running for the door.
The woman shook her head, insisting, “No, no, no. He’s leaving ya, but ya want him ta stay.”
“Yes, it’s true. He is leaving me. He said that what we had would only last throughout the summer, but that’s as far as it would go. I don’t want him to leave. Make him stay. Please.”
Peyton watched as an evil smirk graced the woman’s face. Peyton tried to remain calm as the woman grabbed her hand, slashing her palm with her fingernail. As she yelped, the old woman began chanting.
Worry began to grip her like a vise, but luckily Dean chose that moment to burst through the door, yelling, “Alright, voodoo bitch. Session’s over.” Looking at Peyton, he said, “You didn’t pay her did you?”
Peyton showed him her hand, spatting, “She kinda took my payment in blood.”
Pointing his gun at the old woman, he said, “Where’s the book?”
“Wat book?”
“The Queen’s book. Give us the goddamn book!” Dean yelled as Peyton made her way to stand behind him.
Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, “Nice entrance, by the way. I like the kicking in of the door. It was very Bad Boys of you.”
Dean nodded his head, not taking his eyes off the voodoo woman. “Thanks. It’s always nice when your moves are appreciated. Even by your girlfriend who threatened to put a hex on you.”
Peyton blushed. “I was upset. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re forgiven. If I was you and I was dating me… I’d want to put a hex on me, too or you know”
“Uh, Dean…,” Peyton tapped her boyfriend’s arm, jutting her head toward the voodoo woman where she was now glowing. And floating off the ground.
Had Peyton not been so consumed by the fact that the voodoo woman was glowing and floating she may have been of more help, but she was so entranced by the show that she didn’t notice that her boyfriend had left her side and was making his way toward the voodoo woman.
The second Dean got close enough the light show came to an abrupt halt as the woman transformed into a black cat right there in front of him. “What the…?” he muttered as the cat meowed, then ran between his legs and out the door.
Snapping out of her daze, Peyton watched as Dean took off after the cat, taking that as her cue to look for the spell book.
Dean was under the impression that Lady Guinevere had the book tucked away in her shop. Peyton had disagreed, though, insisting that would be too obvious.
But Lady Guinevere obviously wasn’t a clever voodooist since the book was sitting open on the desk in her office.
Meanwhile Dean was walking down the back alley, still in search of the voodoocatwoman. “Here, kitty, kitty,” he prodded, his gun hoisted in front him. “I’m not gonna hurt you… but I might shoot ya,” he continued to prod as he kicked aside trashcans and empty cardboard boxes in his search for the small creature. “You’re a damn cat where the hell could you have disappeared to?!”
And then he remembered that he‘d left Peyton alone in the shop. “Damn!”
Dean ran at warp speed to get back to the shop, but Peyton nor Lady Guinevere were nowhere in sight.
Cursing under his breath, he stalked back to his car, hoping against hope that they were at the cemetery.
---
Peyton tried to the ignore the slice of the rope against the open wound on her palm as she struggled to free herself from her confines.
She couldn’t see the voodoo woman anywhere, but she could smell incense or something like it burning nearby. She knew that they were back in the cemetery because she was lying in front of the Queen’s tomb.
Candles burned around her accompanied with various oddities including five jars, four of them filled with human hearts. The last was empty and she could only guess that it was being saved for her.
For her heart.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft flick of a tongue against her cheek which was soon replaced by fingers caressing her cheek. Feminine fingers.
Opening her eyes she saw that it was the woman. Chills ran down her spine as the woman leaned close to her ear, whispering, “It be ova soon, der. Quick an’ painful. Den ya be wit de angels.”
Peyton kicked and moved as her shirt was torn open. She saw the blade from the knife as it inched it’s way slowly to her skin, then she heard it.
Him.
Dean.
“This ain’t gonna happen, Guinevere. You’re not gonna do this.”
“Fool,” she laughed, stabbing the knife into the ground beside Peyton’s head. Dean’s eyes widened as she morphed into the cat once again.
This one was much bigger, though, and took the shape of a Panther.
The Panther snarled at him, but Dean didn’t think twice about shooting. He began and didn’t stop until he’d emptied the clip.
After the Panther had transformed back into the voodoo woman, Dean ran to Peyton’s side, quickly untying her, pulling her into his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked even though he knew she wasn’t.
She was far from okay.
And it was all his fault.
---
Dean was steadily stuffing his clothes into his duffel, his eyes shifting to the door, wondering when Peyton was going to return.
They hadn’t talked much since the night before. After he’d burned the spell book to ensure that some other power hungry deity wouldn’t follow in Guinevere‘s footsteps, he and Peyton had stuck around to answer whatever questions the cops may have had.
He’d done a service for the community, one of the officers had told him. Some service, though. He had almost sacrificed his girlfriend to a mad voodoo woman.
Yeah, he wished he could look at differently, but the only way he saw it was that he’d put his girlfriend in danger. It was his fault that Peyton had come so close to being slaughtered.
Her rightful place was back in Tree Hill. He should’ve never agreed to let her tag along. But he was so bending to her.
That had been his first mistake. He had let her too close. He had let himself get too close. He’d let Peyton into his heart and for that they had both suffered.
But she didn’t have to continue to suffer. He may have put her in danger this time, but if he was good at anything, it was learning from his mistakes.
And this was one mistake that he wouldn’t make twice.
Zipping his bag, he looked at the clock once more having given up on Peyton’s return. He had just hoisted the duffel over his shoulder when the door opened and she stepped inside. “Going somewhere?” she asked, closing the door behind herself.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I was just going to put this in the car. I figured we may as well get on the road so that I can get you home.”
“We have to talk about it, Dean. We have to talk about what happened.”
“I’d rather we didn’t.”
“Dean…”
“I put you in danger. I almost got you killed.”
“This isn’t your fault, Dean. We couldn’t have known what was going to happen.”
Dropping his bag at his feet, he kicked it in frustration, yelling, “Don’t do that!”
“Do what?” Peyton asked, confused.
“Protect me. Don’t wipe everything away like it’s all fine and dandy. It’s not. I knew what the dangers were and still I let you come and I concocted that stupid ass plan… I shouldn’t have ever let you…”
“Stop right there,” Peyton demanded, stalking across the room toward him. “I am not some fucking porcelain doll. I bend. I break. I bleed. Just like you. Just like everyone else. I won’t have you treating me like I’m this innocent little girl because I’m not. Sure, the last thing I expected was to become some pawn in this little hunt of yours, but I only got a few scratches out of it. Overall, I’m okay.”
Dean grabbed her hand, turning it over to point to the gauze wrapped around her palm. “You’re not okay and this… this isn’t okay. Not anymore.”
“What are you saying, Dean?” Peyton asked, her bottom lip quivering from the outpouring of everything hitting her a once.
She had spent the last few hours walking the French Quarter lost in thought, trying to piece together her thoughts on the last few days.
She had made the decision to come with Dean to New Orleans. He had warned her how dangerous it could be, but she didn’t care. She had to be with him.
So she’d gotten a little banged up in the process. They were war wounds. It was a reminder to her that they were worth fighting for. She wasn’t going to give up that easily and she wasn’t going to let him do so either.
Things would be so much simpler this way, Dean thought as he looked back at Peyton. But on which of them would it be easier on? Him since he was the one wanting to call it quits to protect her? Her because he was the one willing to walk away? Both of them?
Ending things wouldn’t be easy on either of them, he reasoned. They would both hurt. Emotionally. Physically. But he could live with hurting. He could take the emotional and physical pain of losing Peyton, of walking away from her if it meant that she’d be safe.
But living with himself if something happened to her that was a direct result of her being involved with him? That was something he couldn’t endure.
Before he could open his mouth to say what he so desperately wanted to say, Peyton cut him off.
“You know what? No. I’m not going to let you do it.”
“Do what?” he sighed. “Hurt you? Almost get you killed? Because, uh, been there, done that.”
“I’m a part of this and you’re not going to give up that easily, Dean. I got a little banged up, what’s the big deal?”
“Dammit, Peyton, you could’ve died. I almost got you killed and I won’t…,” he choked. “I can’t watch someone else in my life die. I won’t let you die.”
“Then you’ll have to stick around to protect me.”
---
Peyton had slept on the majority of the ride home and Dean had been grateful for the silence. He hadn’t wanted to talk further about what had happened in New Orleans. He was happy to leave it where it was. But he knew it wouldn’t stay there. Not for long.
He breathed a sigh of relief as they entered Tree Hill. Night had already fallen and most of the shops were already shut down on the main strip. Karen’s Café, however, wasn’t one of them. Slowing in front of the café, he asked Peyton, “Did you want to stop?”
She quickly shook her head. “Let’s just go home.”
Home. Well, wouldn’t that be nice?
Within ten minutes he was parking outside her house. Turning off the engine, he grabbed their bags from the backseat as Peyton led the way up to the house. “It’s good to be back,” she said as she unlocked the door, leading him inside. Closing the door, she leaned back against it, staring at him as he placed their bags beside the staircase. “So what now?”
Dean stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging. “You could go take a shower, or something.”
“That actually doesn’t sound half bad. What’re you going to do?”
“I have a few calls to return,” he said as he extracted his phone from his pocket.
“Okay,” she said with a nod of her head. With a kiss to his cheek, she said, “Don’t be too long.”
Dean watched her make her way upstairs before he stepped onto the porch. Dialing his voicemail box, he listened through the many voicemails left by Lucas and Haley, but had never been more relieved to hear his dad’s voice.
His relief suddenly dissipated as he listened to the message through.
“Dean… something is starting to happen. I think it’s serious. I need to try to figure out what’s going on. Be very careful Dean. We’re all in danger.”
The majority of the message was drowned out by static, but it didn’t calm Dean’s feelings whatsoever that this was something to be easily ignored.
Be very careful Dean. We’re all in danger.
The first place his mind went was to Sam who was off at college, ignorant to all the supernatural happenings going on while he was attending classes and frat parties.
Dean snapped his phone shut, leaning his head against the brick wall behind him. This was not what he needed right now not with things with he and Peyton so strained after the events of New Orleans.
He banged his head against the wall, hating how everything was falling into place.
But one thing remained certain.
He’d have to leave. Even though with every fiber of his being he didn’t want to, he couldn’t ignore this.
His dad was in trouble and needed his help. This was a lead that he had to follow through.
And he had to do it without Peyton.
---
Dean took one last longing look at Peyton before he slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the room. He was at the door downstairs when he heard, “You weren’t even going to say goodbye?”
Dean bent his head, turning slowly to look toward the stairs where Peyton stood staring down at him. Slowly she began her descent down the stairs as he dropped his duffel at his feet. “I just figured that it’d be easier to just leave.”
“Easier for who, Dean? You?”
“No. Of course not.”
She shook her head, scoffing, “You’re such a coward.”
“I am not,” he insisted, even though he really was. Otherwise, why did he wait for her to go to sleep before he snuck out of her room. Coward didn’t even begin to cover what he was.
“Yes, you are. The entire summer you’ve ran from how you really feel about me, about us and now at the first opportunity you’re doing the exact thing that you’ve wanted to do all along -you’re running.”
“I am not running!” he shouted. “My father needs me.”
“I need you!”
Dean crossed the space between them quickly, pulling her into his arms as she started to cry. “Shh…,” he began to soothe her. “Don’t cry, Peyton. Please, don’t cry.”
“Then don’t leave, Dean. Please?”
“You know I can’t stay. I have to go.”
“Then, let me come with you.”
Dean shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. Besides, school is starting soon. You can’t skip school.”
Peyton wiped at her tears, nodding her head. “I’m being selfish.”
“You’re allowed to be,” he told her quietly. “You know I’d stay, but…”
“Your dad needs you.” Peyton nodded her head. Even though he was leaving for what she feared was much longer this time, she knew that he had to go. His family was way too important to him to just abandon them for her. “You have a job to do. You should go.”
But his feet didn’t move. Instead, he dipped his head to attack her mouth, then swept her into his arms to carry her upstairs.
---
After Peyton had fallen back asleep, Dean had laid awake watching her, committing every contour of her face to memory knowing that this was the last time he’d look at her for a long time.
Possibly forever.
He didn’t want to leave her, but he was needed elsewhere. He knew he was needed here, too, but he couldn’t turn his back on his family.
Slipping out of bed, he scooped up his jeans from the floor, quietly sliding them up his legs. them back on.
Crossing the room to Peyton’s desk, Dean quickly found a notebook and a pen, his eyes returning to her sleeping form once more before he sat down in her desk chair and began scribbling his parting words onto paper.
---
With his duffel slung over his shoulder and his letter to Peyton in hand, Dean crossed to the bed, placing the letter on the pillow beside her.
Sitting down beside her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering, “I’m sorry I have to leave like this… while you’re still asleep. You were right. I am a coward. But I can’t watch you watch me leave. And I sure as hell can’t watch you cry as I’m leaving. It’ll be easier on both of us this way.”
Dean just wished that he honestly believed that.
“We both knew this day would come. I just hate that it finally did. You know if this wasn’t important I wouldn’t be leaving. But maybe it‘s better this way.”
Dean wiped at his eyes, not enjoying the feel of the tears stinging his eyes. He knew that it was going to hard to leave, but he hadn’t thought it’d be this hard.
Smoothing his hand down her hair, he whispered, “Goodbye, Peyton,” and after a kiss to her lips, made his way toward the door without a look back, fully aware of what he was leaving behind.