Chapter Seventeen

Dean pushed open the door, letting out a breath when he took in the sight and smell of the place he now saw as home. Melinda was right behind him, and he stepped aside, letting her walk inside the door. He followed her, setting their bags on the floor.

"Dean."

Melinda's voice was soft, and Dean turned around just in time to catch her as she stumbled. She closed her eyes as he lowered her to sit on the floor, kneeling behind her and holding her up. She moaned and whimpered, and he pressed even closer to her, one hand holding her shoulder, arm across her chest, the other hand pushing through her hair.

"Can you talk to me, baby? What's happening?"
"So … so much."

Flashes of blonde hair and blue eyes, long, dark hair floating through her fingertips. She could hear screams of laughter and of pain, hear cries of anguish and loud crashes, thumps, and glass breaking. Through it all was a running commentary, voices she couldn't distinguish speaking on things she didn't understand. Multiple voices rising in unison, the foundation of the place shaking, and blue lights shining, disappearing, and reappearing.

Silent tears were slipping unnoticed down her cheeks as her skull felt as though it was being cracked open. She gave a painful full-body shiver, feeling her teeth start chattering because of the ice that she felt invading her body.

She jerked, a pain-filled groan escaping her lips as warm hands touched the bare skin of her lower back, slowly sliding around to her sides.

"Come on, Mel. Stay with me."
"De—mmm."

He had his hands under her shirt, slowly touching her skin, his hand almost stretching all the way across her belly. One hipbone under his thumb, the other just out of reach of his pinky finger. Melinda shivered in his arms, and he continued touching her, until a shaky hand reached up and touched his cheek. He groaned at the ice of her touch, then turned to press his lips into her palm, doing his best to infuse her with warmth.

"Come on, sweetheart. Talk to me, Mel."

She gave a shaky breath, wiggling her fingers as his hands slid up her ribcage.

"I keep … I hear so many voices. So many sounds, but I don't … I can see so much at once, and it's … I'm so dizzy, Dean."
"I've got you. I won't let you fall."

Melinda nodded, letting out another quiet groan as the flashes in her mind came to a sudden stop as soon as Dean's hands came up to cradle her cheeks. Suddenly, she could hear clearly, but the scene was blurred, changing rapidly.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here, for as long as you want."
"I think we'll take you up on that."

"'Hi Mel'? You take off without a word and all you have to say, after two freakin' years, is 'Hi Mel'? You son of a bitch, I—"

"Mama! Daddy! Surprise!"

"I love you. All of you. Don't ever give up, all right?"

"Well, you're welcome to stay here, for as long as you want."
"I think we'll take you up on that."

Melinda's eyes flew open as the first thing she'd clearly heard replayed, this time with a clear picture. She saw herself, hair long and blonde, and Dean, years younger and clean-shaven, with a cocky grin on his face as he reached out and held the back of her head as he kissed her slowly and soundly.

She sat up, moving out of his arms, turning to face him, seeing worry evident in his green eyes.

"I remembered something."
"Okay?"
"It was you. You and I were here. It was … I don't know when it was, but we stood right here and you kissed me. I told you that you could stay here as long as you want, and you said that you'd—"
"Take you up on it."

Melinda nodded, and Dean smiled, lifting a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

"That was the second time I kissed you."
"Really?"

He nodded.

"Sam and I had come … for a visit, and we were going to leave, but my car was messed up. Your mom had pulled out the spark plugs."
"What? Why would she do that?"
"Because I'm too damn stupid to see what's right in front of me."

Melinda's eyes went soft, and she lifted a hand to rest against his cheek.

"You're not stupid."
"That's still up for debate."

She leaned forward, and he met her halfway, their lips meeting in a sweet kiss, reminiscent of the one she had just remembered. Dean broke the kiss, moving to lay his lips against her forehead, then leaning back to smile at her.

"You okay?"

She nodded, and he stood up, helping her to her feet. She reached back and took his hand, glancing around as she slowly made her way through the foyer to the staircase. She let her fingers dance over the bannister, walking up one step, then coming back down. She looked to Dean with a smile, speaking softly.

"I used to slide down the bannister. I fell off once and thought I broke my ankle, but I didn't. It was really swollen for a while, though."

Dean nodded, and she held his hand as she walked into the living room. He came to stand behind her, gently brushing his fingers through her hair and resting his hand against the back of her head. She pointed towards the couch.

"That's where I would stay when I was too sick to go to school. I remember soap operas on the TV and chicken noodle soup."

She let out a shaky breath, and Dean leaned down, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"You're doing great, Mel."

She nodded, reaching up to pat the hand he'd wrapped around her arm.

"I don't understand this, Dean. This stuff doesn't hurt. And it's not like it's a memory that's coming to my mind. It's just …"

She shook her head, stepping away from him. She walked to a figurine on the mantle above the fireplace and lifted it. Dean smiled when he saw the jagged edge around the bottom of the portion she was holding, and she shrugged a shoulder at him.

"I broke this when I was seven. I was too scared to tell anyone, so I just put it back together and leaned it back a bit. No one ever noticed it was broken."

She put the figurine back together, then turned to him with tears in her eyes.

"I don't even remember how I broke it, but I know that I did."

Dean walked over, wrapping her in his arms, and she put her face in his chest. She shook her head, turning to rest her ear over his heart, closing her eyes at the steady beat.

"I feel so confused, and so … lost."
"You're not, baby. I'm right here. We're going to make it through this, okay?"

She nodded, and Dean bent to kiss the top of her head. A few minutes later, she looked up at him with a shy smile, taking his hand again and walking out of the room. She came to a hard stop in the sunroom, and Dean let out a shaky breath behind her.

Melinda let out a few gasping breaths, because standing in this room literally felt like she was being stabbed in the heart. She actually lifted a hand to her chest, surprised when she pulled it away and it wasn't covered in blood. She gasped again, turning to Dean and shaking her head.

"This room … hurts."
"Mel, I—"
"Help."

Her voice was so quiet, and Dean couldn't think anymore. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the kitchen, setting her on her feet in time for her to run to the mudroom, where the washing machine was, and she threw up into the sink there. Dean stood in the doorway, one hand over his mouth as she coughed and gagged and made these quiet, whimpering sounds that broke his heart. He tried to get closer to her, but she raised a hand to him, forcing him to keep his distance.

He couldn't look away from her hands, where they gripped the porcelain of the sink. And he couldn't help but wonder if she'd burn him again if she touched him.

She finally stopped, still holding onto the sink as she was breathing hard. Dean didn't make a move to her, and she turned to look at him, cheeks wet with tears and eyes red-rimmed. He gave her a tiny smile, then tossed a thumb over his shoulder.

"I'm going to run to our bags real quick, grab your toothbrush?"

She nodded, and he smiled at her before he turned and walked away. She let out a long shaky breath, turning the water on, watching it fall from the faucet as she gently thought of what she'd seen in the sun room.

Well, she hadn't really been able to see anything. Just blurred-out shadows of a crowd of people. She might not have been able to see clearly, but she could certainly hear.

"I've never been good at saying what I feel. Words are not my strong suit. So I just want to tell you that I love you. You are so incredible, and I can't even begin to imagine how I got so lucky to find you."

Dean had said those words to her. She recognized his voice. She couldn't remember when or why, but he had said those words. His voice had almost thundered in her ears as the memory had assaulted her, and what hit even harder was what she'd heard from her own voice.

"Dean, I was born to love you, and I always will."

She gave a quiet moan, gasping as a warm hand cradled the back of her head.

"You're all right. I'm right here."

Melinda nodded, eyes screwed shut, hands still gripping tightly to the sink. When the waves of pain and nausea faded, she slowly blinked her eyes open, looking to her right and seeing Dean's worried eyes watching her. He smiled, holding out her toothbrush and toothpaste, and she gave him a tiny smile, sliding her fingers across his palm as she took the items from him.

As she went to brush her teeth, she completely missed Dean's face screwing into a grimace, glancing down to see four lines burned into his palm from where her fingers had touched him.

They sat at the kitchen table, both staring into a cup of coffee they absently sipped from every now and then. Melinda had studied every inch of the kitchen, remembering some peculiar things, like the way her mother's apron felt between her little fingers when she'd been a child, or the way a watermelon had looked splattered onto the ceiling, the cause unknown to her.

"Mel?"

She looked over to him, blue eyes cloudy with worry and apprehension.

"I know this is a stupid question, but are you okay?"

She smiled, looking back to her coffee cup.

"My head hurts. Not as bad as it has before, and not as bad as it did earlier today, but …"

She licked her lips, and he gave her a smile.

"Maybe we should turn in for the night. We've got the place to ourselves for another day."

Melinda gave him a smile, nodding her head.

"I think that would be good."

Dean drained his coffee, walking over and putting his cup in the sink. Melinda walked up behind him, one hand on his back as she did the same thing. He watched as her hand slid from him, flipping the faucet on and rinsing out both of their cups before moving to set them both in the dishwasher. She shut the appliance and turned back to him, smile falling as she covered her face with her hands.

"Mel?"

She let out a sob, and Dean moved, immediately wrapping her in his arms.

"Hey, what is it? Talk to me, baby. Come on, now."
"I can't—"

She sobbed again, gripping his arms, shaking her head.

"I'm so confused. It hurts so bad, but I can't put into words why. How can I remember where the dishwasher is, but seeing the sunroom hurts so bad it makes me sick?"

She lifted tear-filled blue eyes to him, and he leaned down, gently laying his lips against hers. Her hands came up to cup his cheeks, kissing him deeply. She moaned into his mouth when he lifted her, setting her up on the counter, hands coming up to card through her short hair. She kept her hands on his face, scratching her nails through his beard, and Dean finally pulled back, resting his forehead on hers.

They were both breathing hard, and Dean placed a kiss on her cheek before he looked into her eyes.

"Let's go to bed."

She nodded, and he helped her off the counter, keeping hold of her hand as they walked to the stairs. He watched as she stepped in front of him, still holding his hand, leading him up to the second floor.

Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest the closer they got to the room he hadn't been able to bring himself to go in since he lost her. He let out a breath when she dropped his hand, laying both of hers on the massive door to her bedroom. Dean felt dizzy, nauseous, but he managed to lift his head to look at her. She looked back at him, worry crossing her face.

"Dean?"

He gasped, turning away from her, and she hurried to him, walking in front of him and taking his face in her hands.

"Hey. Talk to me. What is it?"

He lifted shaking hands to hold her wrists. He shook his head.

"The—the bedroom. I … I can't."
"Why?"

He gasped out another breath, and she moved her hand to rest over his heart.

"Breathe, honey."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can."

She stepped closer, lifting her face, and he automatically lowered his, moving closer to her. Their lips were barely an inch apart, and she whispered to him.

"Take a breath."

He immediately did as she asked, groaning when her hands moved to rest on either side of his chest.

"Do it again. Deeper."

He did, staring into her eyes, and she smiled when he exhaled.

"Better?"

When he pulled her into his arms, she gasped this time. He kissed her lips once, twice, just brushing his lips over hers, then resting his forehead on hers. She lifted a hands to brush through the hair on the back of his neck, and he sighed.

"I haven't been able to go into the bedroom since you …"

He sighed, and she nodded.

"Oh."
"I'm sorry, I just—"
"Don't … don't apologize."

She leaned back, looking up until deep green eyes looked back at her.

"Do you … do you think maybe we could go in together?"

Dean let out a shaky breath.

"I don't know."

Melinda nodded, reaching over to slip her hand into his.

"Try?"

Dean nodded, feeling his heart speed up again as she took hold of the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open. He stepped into the room, feet sinking into the plush carpet, and tears were immediately in his eyes.

He could see her, like he always had, sleeping on the bed, face drawn up in worry until he slid in beside her. He could see her sitting on the edge of the bed as she got dressed, or making the bed once they'd both gotten up. He could see her changing the sheets, falling onto them and winking at him, and then they'd mess up the newly-made bed.

He hung his head, grabbing onto the dresser and holding tightly. When a minute had passed, he lifted his head, watching Melinda as she slowly made her way around the room. She lifted her eyes to his, laying a palm on the bedspread.

"We've stayed here."

Dean nodded, and she moved to touch the pillow.

"This is my side."

He nodded again, and she sat down, putting her head in her hand. Dean walked over, sliding behind her, putting his legs on either side of her, pulling her back against his chest, and she let out a quiet groan, leaning against him.

"My head is killing me."
"Let's go to bed. See if you can sleep it off."

She nodded, and Dean kissed her cheek. She stood up, moving to the dresser and pulling open a drawer, pulling out one of his old t-shirts. His breath caught in his chest when she lifted it to her face, then turned back to him.

"This is …"

She lifted a hand to her forehead, letting out a quiet moan. Dean turned away from her, letting out a breath of relief when he heard the soft sound of clothes hitting the floor. He turned back once he had his sweatpants on, breath catching again when he saw her in the shirt. She looked down, touching the hem of the shirt, which hung at almost the middle of her thighs.

"I can find something else."

Dean let out a laugh.

"This is fine with me."

Her cheeks reddened, and he laughed again. He winked at her, and she smiled, walking to the bed and pulling back the covers. She slid into bed, letting out a long breath. Dean slid in behind her, rolling close to her, lacing his arm over her stomach.

"Is this okay?"

Melinda smiled.

"Yes. Are you okay?"

Dean swallowed, but nodded. He laid his head down on the pillow right behind her head, the scent of her hair filling his nose. He blinked once, twice, then closed his eyes, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

Dean got up early the next morning, slipping out of bed while Melinda was still asleep. He watched her sleep for a moment, before kissing her temple and going downstairs. He started up a pot of coffee and stared out the window into the backyard, licking his lips and letting out a shaky breath.

She was remembering. The Manor was doing wonders for her, just like he'd hoped. The times it had gotten to be too much for her had been exactly what Dean had been expecting to happen. Her reaction to the sunroom was not what he'd been expecting, and he'd be lying if he said that he hadn't been wishing that seeing the room would bring everything back for her. Knowing what the room had meant to them …

They'd fought there. They'd made up there. They'd held each other and kissed and had lazy days just lying together. Hell, they'd gotten married there.

But seeing the pain that just the sight of the room brought to her …

Dean ran a hand over his face, pulling a mug out of the cabinet and filling it with coffee. He took a sip and hissed at the burn of the bitter liquid down his throat.

The cup hit the counter, Dean's mouth falling open when he looked to the mudroom door as Leo walked inside. Dean shook his head.

"What are you doing here?"

Leo blew out a breath, then shook his head.

"I've done everything you asked, all right? I didn't go with you to New York. I let you stay there until you deemed it time to come home. And then I left so you could bring her home by yourself. But now I'm done, all right?"
"Leo—"
"No. No, this is my baby girl, Dean. I get that you want to protect her, but I was doing that way before you came along. I want to see her."

Dean let out a laugh.

"Leo, we just got here yesterday. She hasn't even been through the whole house."
"I don't care. I'll give her a tour."
"Leo, we—"
"No!"

Leo stepped over and slammed his hands on the center island, then turned to face Dean.

"You have decided. And I admit, we let you, because … well, you know why."

Dean couldn't stop the glance down at his left hand, still feeling wrong without his wedding ring. Leo rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head.

"I need to see her. I need to look at her, to see her with my eyes and know she's … god, that she's alive. I haven't seen her for half a year, and that's too damn long."
"What if she can't handle it?"
"You wouldn't have brought her home if you didn't think she could handle it."

Dean nodded, pushing a hand through his hair and breathing out a sigh, a sudden craving for a cigarette rolling down his spine. Dean shook his head, opening his mouth, and Leo let out a laugh.

"I'm so done right now. Don't even try to talk me down or pacify me, because I promise you … I'm usually not like this, but I could knock your teeth down your throat right now."

Dean blinked wide eyes at Leo, who shrugged back at his.

"I don't know why. But the papa bear in me has decided that you're the only thing standing between me and my little girl, and I am done, do you hear me?"
"Leo, I—"
"Get over yourself, would you? For one fucking second, think about her family. I get how shitty your life was without her, but my god, Dean. Think about me. Do you even know how hard it was for me to breathe? I wanted to die, but I couldn't."

Dean shook his head, a haze of red suddenly filling his vision.

"All I have done is think about her family. I brought her home for the sole reason of seeing you all. I asked for a few days so we wouldn't bombard her, but I guess that was too much to ask."
"Yeah, as a matter of fact it was too much to ask, because—"
"Dad?"

Leo and Dean stopped, turning and looking at the entryway into the kitchen. Melinda stood there, in one of Dean's shirts and a pair of leggings. She was staring at Leo, and as Dean tore his eyes away from her, he saw the tears fill Leo's eyes. One drifted down his cheek and Dean shook his head, green eyes flashing back to Melinda.

"Wait. What did you say?"

She took a step forward, slowly making her way across the kitchen, stopping in front of Leo, staring up at him. Tears slid down his cheeks as he looked at her, and she raised a shaky hand, pressing it against his cheek.

"Daddy."

Leo blinked, mouth dropping open, and he caught her as she fainted.