Losing Lives / Book Six / The Life Series / Supernatural

The Mentalists

Dean and I walked along a street.

I was carrying a bag from Fat Mack's Bar-B-Q Rib Shack, looking at Dean. "So how long's it been?"

"A week and a half," Dean answered. "No calls, no texts, no contact of any kind with Sam since he found out about what I did to Amy." He turned to face me. "And oddly enough, you don't seem to have an opinion for this."

"Well, she was a monster, Dean," I told him. "She might have been killing for her son, but there was no telling if she was gonna do it again. I mean, I'm not saying that that's what I would've done. I probably would've let her walk, because of the kid."

Dean looked down. "Yeah, as if I need another thing to feel guilty about."

"You were doing your job, Dean," I told him. "Ever hunter does their job in a different way. There's no right or wrong, unless you take it to extremities like Gordon Walker. That kind of hunting is the kind of wrong that will earn you a ticket downstairs, or worse." Dean chuckled in agreement. "But you're not Gordon, Dean. You know, hating yourself, feeling guilty about it isn't gonna make Sam forgive you any sooner."

Dean thought about this a moment, nodding. "What would I do without my Yoda?"

I smiled. "You really want me to answer that question?"

Dean smirked, leaning closer, kissing me for a moment.

I pulled away, smiling, walking toward my car, getting into the driver's seat.

Dean got into the passenger seat, taking the fast food bag from me.

I started the car, about to drive when we heard the man talk show on the radio. "Ooh. That made me hungry. You're listening to the morning chaos with me, Bananas Foster."

"The hell I am, asshat," Dean told him, about to change the channel.

"And now for the news of the weird." Dean stopped. "Two very odd murder to be exact. Mediums are dying in Lily Dale, the most psychic town in America."

Dean looked at me. "You wanna go on a job to the most psychic town in America?"

I smirked. "It's a date."

I drove us away.

~~~~~~  

Dean and I went to the recent vic's house, posing as FBI, showing our fake badges to a police officer, looking around the room.

"So, if you want to know your future, stick to that 900 line," Dean told me. "'Cause is it me, or should these guys have seen it coming?"

I chuckled. "You got me."

I discovered a tape recorder under the table, playing the recording, which was of rustling noises. I moved a lever on the floor, mumbled voices sounding. I pressed a switch on a chair, making the curtains move.

Dean saw a large lever under the table. "O spirits of the further... am I going to win the Powerball?" He pressed the lever, making a knocking sound be heard. Dean looked at me. "We're gonna be rich!"

I chuckled. "You're such a dork."

Dean stood straight. "I take that offensively." I raised my eyebrows slightly. "Okay, no, I don't, but you get the picture."

I smiled.

~~~~~~