Not much time passes before Sam finally asks the burning question: "What's going on?"

I patch a vague statement to avoid going into detail. "Dean and I just aren't working."

"What? How?" Sam frowns. "You two have seemed fine."

"It's not really much of your business," I mumble.

"You promised answers."

"Are you always this fucking nosy?"

"Alright, jeez," Sam sighs.

A few moments of tension pass before I feel guilty. "Sorry. That was misdirected."

"It's alright. But, why?"

"I overheard a conversation between him and Jo," I sigh. My voice shakes, but I hold back the residual emotions I'm still feeling. "He said he doesn't love me. When Jo asked him if he was 'committed to me', he just said that it's complicated. And Jo kissed him, so there's that."

"And you didn't want to even talk to him about it?" Sam asks.

I shake my head. "He's been so closed off since Ellen and Jo got there. I don't think it would've helped. And still, the original agreement between all of us was that I would leave after this was all said and done. It's probably time for me to just go, anyway."

"You're the only one that thinks that," Sam tells me. "You know he's going to come find you as soon as he realizes what's going on, right?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"If you tell him, probably." I look at Sam pointedly.

"What? You want me to lie to Dean?"

I shrug. "Or if you feel like ratting me out, you can. It's your call."

"I'm just saying, Mal. He sees right through me, and how else would you have gotten to a safe house two hours away in the middle of the night?"

I frown. "You're right. It's fine if you tell him. I know he's not easy to deal with. I'm sorry to put you in this position."

"No, it's fine, I understand why you're leaving," Sam assures me. "I just wish you weren't."

"Me too," I whisper.

"It's not too late to change your mind, you know. I won't tell Dean."

I don't reply. I can see Sam's face out of the corner of my eye; he looks disappointed. It makes me sad to think about that, so I stare out the window until I drift off.

Sam wakes me up once we arrive at the safe house. He helps me carry my things in and shows me around. He takes some pride in showing me the hidden weapons and traps around the house, as well as the sigils that are engrained into the woodwork in certain spots.

"You should be safe here," he tells me. "Not as safe as the bunker, but at least for a little while. If something comes up, or if you feel even a little bit off, call. And if you decide you want to come back, call."

I nod. "I will. Thank you, Sam. I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

"Well, you did kind of give me my humanity back," he shrugs.

"I did, didn't I?" I banter.

He laughs and gives me a hug. "Be careful. Check in."

"Of course."

A few days pass. I don't hear anything from Sam, but Dean's left multiple voicemails on my phone. Each one a little more urgent than the last, asking me to pick up and come back. I haven't answered, because I know that I would probably go straight back.

Just as I think of it, my phone starts ringing. It's Dean, of course, so I press the decline button. A few seconds later, my voicemail noise goes off. Same song, different verse.

For the rest of the evening, I look in the tabloids to find a possible case to go hunt. To get my mind off everything. To start fresh.

However, that plan is quickly soiled, as the front door flies open, and Dean barges in, a picture of hot-headed desperation.

"What the Hell?" I ask, shocked at the sudden intrusion.

"What the Hell? What the Hell, yourself!" Dean yells.

"Wha-"

"Do you have any idea how much you worried me?" He fumes. "My own brother lied to cover your ass! He said he hadn't seen you at all. I had no idea where you were. I had to trace your phone."

I'm at a loss for words. I don't know how to respond; I didn't expect him to come find me like this. I though he would just let it go. But then again, I thought Sam would've told him the truth.

"You wanna tell me why you just decided to run off?" Dean asks. "And why you went behind my back with Sam?"

"Okay, you're making this sound way worse than it is," I stop him.

"Am I? Am I really? Because the way I see it, you've placed more trust in Sam in this past week than you have in me."

"How am I supposed to trust you right now?" I ask, standing from the chair I was sitting in.

"You don't have any reason -"

"Oh, shut up," I interrupt him. He glares at me. "Jo. Jo is the reason I can't trust you right now."

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

"I watched you two kiss. I listened to you tell her that you don't love me, and when she asked if you were committed, you just said that it's 'complicated'."

"And you didn't think to just talk to me about it?" He throws his hands up.

"You didn't think to maybe stop her before that mess took place?" I counter him. "You know Jo. You know exactly what she was doing. Don't tell me that was unexpected."

"You know what? You're right," Dean admits. "I fucked up. It happened. But I didn't think it go over well if I just told you about it out of the blue."

"It would've saved some heartburn," I mumble.

"And you could've said something," Dean reminds me.

"So crying in your bed wasn't clear enough for you?" I ask, a spell of dry laughter lacing my words.

Dean stops for a second. He looks around the room and takes a deep breath. I can't tell if he's still angry or not.

"I know what I said was wrong," Dean admits. "It didn't take me long after saying that I didn't love you to realize that I do. And if you think that after all this time I'm not committed to you, then there's something going on in your area too."

"How am I supposed to receive that though, Dean? If you would've told me this a week ago, when Jo and Ellen gave me Hell for existing, then I would've stayed for you. No one would've been able to make me leave."

"You should receive it as me, telling you that I love you, and that you should come home. Let's just put this behind us. Jo and Ellen are gone, we can take a trip outside the bunker if you want. See something different."

I mull over his proposition. I can't lie, I would love to just forget this and go back. But part of me wants to stay here, and I feel more inclined to follow that small beckon. I also feel somewhat repulsed at the thought of spending any time with Dean right now. Fleetingly, I think of how drastically our relationship has changed in such a short window of time.

"Dean..." I sigh, unsure of where to go with this. "I just can't. I don't expect you to understand. I don't even understand. I just feel like I need to be here."

"Do you love me?"

I meet Dean's burning state. His green eyes are sharp, even in the dull lighting. They burn themselves into my memory. The pained look on his face is practically tattooed onto my frontal lobe.

"Yes."

"Then come back."

"I can't."

"Damn it, Mallory!" Dean yells. I jump, refraining from reaching for the nearest weapon. "Why the Hell not? Do you not see that I'm trying?"

"I do see that, Dean," I respond. I make my voice as strong and still as I can. "But you didn't try until now, and that's the problem. You should leave."

"Fine," Dean growls. "But when you need help, don't bother to come crawling back."

I glare at him, having lost my last straw. "I said you should leave."

He does as I tell him to and makes a point of slamming the door on his way out. I take a deep breath and let myself collapse onto the small futon couch. The roar of the Impala signals Dean's departure and I try to let it relax me some.

Conveniently, Sam calls as soon as Dean leaves. I pick up hesitantly.

"I'm guessing he found you out?" Sam asks.

"Yeah. It wasn't pretty."

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault," I reassure him. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. You helped me as much as I need you to."

"Yeah, I guess," Sam sighs. I can hear the discredit in his voice; it makes me sad that Sam never lets himself have a real victory.

"Hey, if you come across any cases that you don't want, throw them my way," I tell him, making sure to infuse my devious smile into my words.

"You're going to hunt by yourself?" Sam scoffs.

"Yes. Don't judge me."

"Not judging, but also I'm not taking any responsibility for your injuries if you take a case I give you," he warns me.

"That's fine, I didn't ask you to."

Sam laughs. "Fair enough. I'll send some over your way if I find anything."

I thank him again before hanging up and continuing my search through newspapers and articles for any type of lead.

My efforts grow tired. I take a break and drink some water; not that I need it, but Sam got me into at least staying hydrated, even if it doesn't do anything for me. With a heaving sigh, I open the dusty curtains on the west window of the house. Looking through the red warding on the glass, I watch the sun go down and reminisce on my life thus far. A smile spreads across my face knowing that I'm as free as I've ever been at this moment.