Back in the kitchen, Bobby was steaming. He pounced before Dean was fully in the room, slinging the discarded Henley at his chest.
"I can think of only two reasons you let her slide without passing the smell test, and they both start with Double-D."
"Jesus, Bobby. She was hurt in the line of work. It was a professional courtesy."
"Professional courtesy, my ass," Bobby scoffed. He shot a disgusted look at Dean's crotch. "Will you uncock the hammer on that thing?"
Dean blushed fire-red and tied the shirt around his waist.
"And where the hell is Sam?"
"Right here," Sam said, pushing the screen door open with a dozen grocery bags in hand. He muscled his way to the counter and began unpacking fruit, vegetables and lean meat. Bobby looked over the bounty with a scowl. First Dean, the besotted sonofabitch, risking the whole operation, and now even Sam was acting like a love-sick teenager.
"So she's got you playing nursemaid too?"
"She did us a solid killing the dryad. Now we're helping her out. Simple," Sam said.
"Did you dose her before she crossed the threshold?" Bobby gestured at the cabinet where he kept holy water and colloidal silver.
Sam shrugged. "There wasn't time."
"Dean-o here lets his bone do the thinking, but you're usually more thorough than that, Sam!" Bobby stormed. "One mistake is all it takes for me to come home and have to mop up your guts!"
"Hey," Dean yelled, "I told you she's Team Human."
"Guess you gave her a thorough check-up, huh?"
Sam froze, eyeing his brother's naked chest. He prayed Zena hadn't been "Deaned" while he was out. It wouldn't be the first time.
Bobby was still going. "Did you know to look for a pair of nymphs? Dryads never roll solo."
"The cops were close. We had to get outta there," Sam said. "If there were some around, they didn't step up to help the dryad. I don't think anything followed us."
Bobby sucked his teeth. "Well, they're wood creatures, and they've got a hell of a lot of cover around here if they did. Guess we'll just have to wait and see."
Resigned, the old man washed his hands and started a pot to boil. "Dean, you're on chop duty. Get to it."
Dean zoned out prepping vegetables, barely answering while Bobby or Sam talked. He needed to get away, clear his head. Zena made him crazy; he wanted to fight her and fuck her and hold her, not necessarily in that order. She was worse than Viagra; he hadn't gone down a bit. He knew he had a problem when Sam went to feed her. On reflex, he nearly knocked the bowl to the floor.
"No one touches her but me," he snarled. Luckily, Sam didn't understand him.
"What the hell, Dean?" his brother yelled, looking worried.
"Forget it. M'going out."
**
Zena awoke to gentle shaking. Sam held a bowl of soup in his hand. It smelled wonderful.
"This is mainly broth, but if you can handle it I'll bring you some meat and veggies for seconds," he said softly. He held out a spoon to her lips and she sipped, then pushed off the quilt and sat up stiffly.
"Thank you," she said, gesturing for the bowl, "I can feed myself." She took it in both hands and slurped from it like a cup. "What took you so long?"
Sam chuckled. "I've been home for two hours, you were just out the whole time. We thought it was better to let you sleep. Bobby made the stew."
The broth warmed her insides and calmed the pangs in her belly. She'd gotten so good at ignoring discomfort that sometimes she plain forgot to eat. She finished the bowl, then noticed the biscuit Sam had brought and used it to sop up the remains. She was so focused on eating, she didn't see him leave and return with another bowl; this one with beef, carrots and potatoes. When she reached for it, she got a better look at his face.
"There's plenty more if you want it," he said. "Bobby always cooks for an army. Mainly because we eat like one," he grinned. One eye half-closed with the effort.
Zena dipped her head. "I'm sorry about that," she gestured toward his puffy yellow nose.
"Don't worry about it. I think it adds character, myself."
Zena liked Sam. He had an innocence that Dean lacked. When Dean looked at her, he was mentally fucking her against the wall. Not that she minded. She thought of the afternoon and a shiver ran through her. He made her want to cream before he even touched her. She wondered briefly if that was how others had felt all these years. With him, she would always be prey. Sam, on the other hand, put her at ease. He didn't get the crazy eyes. He could sit in a chair, next to her bed, just chilling until she cleaned her bowl. It was something of a relief.
"So," she started, "does your Uncle Bobby always go ballistic when guests turn down his crap beer?"
Sam snorted a laugh. "Ah, Zena. You broke of one of his 'safety protocols.' He doses the beer with holy water to make sure nobody brings anything foul home from work."
"Ohhh. I heard him and Dean fighting about it, but it didn't make any sense to me. Speaking of, where's Dean?"
