Chapter Text
"So has Cas gotten back to you yet?" Sam asked Dean in the elevator.
"No," Dean said, peeved. "He's been super cagey about this whole job. I mean he brings us in, then he tells us to wait, and then he goes radio silent even as there is another attack. It's just weird."
"You think he's hiding somthing?"
"I don't know dude." Dean cracked his neck. "Yes. No. Maybe. He was going on about reconnaissance and wanting to be 100% sure. I'll tell you what, Sammy, there is something here that he thinks is going to make us angry." Dean pushed the button for the 7th floor again. "We should be moving faster, not slower."
Sam nodded, then sighed. "Let's go rip the band-aid off."
The door to the elevator opened there was a pretty dark haired woman holding a meringue pie standing on the landing. Dean smiled, and gave her a slight up nod. "That for us? You shouldn't have"
The woman yelped and almost dropped the pie. When she caught it, she pushed her glasses back up her nose staring at them agape. She had a bobbed haircut that came to just under her chin, a heart shape face with full cheeks, and bright red-delicious lips that were quivering slightly. She could have been a hipster snow white. She was even dressed for it; wearing a blue A-line skirt and tight yellow cardigan embroidered with red and black octopus tentacles.
Sam blinked. His eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He tripped over his feet slightly as he rushed to get out in front of his brother.
“Ronnie?” Sam asked, a slight note of panic in his voices. “Wow, it’s good to see you," he scanning over her head to see if anyone else was in the vicinity. Luckily it was clear. Sam smiled a tense smile. "What have you been up too?" he asked without making eye contact, instead Sam took Veronica's arm and led her gently into a corner. Dean rolled his eyes and took look out.
"Listen, I know its been forever," Sam started, stopping short when he finally look at her face. He'd forgotten how stunningly blue Ronnie's eyes were, behind her black frames. Tropical reef blue. He swallowed. "Wow, you look...good."
The hairs on the back of Sam's neck prickled slightly. Ronnie looked panicked. She shouldn't look panicked. Ronnie had loved him in college. Panic was exactly the wrong reaction for her to have. She was supposed to squeal in excitement. She was supposed to give him bright, giddy smiles. Even leaping hugs. This was not the Ronnie he remembered.
The thought passed through his brain that she might be a shape-shifter, or "off" in some other way, but she was wearing silver jewelry against her skin. At least it looked silver. Sam remembered that Ronnie's skin turned green when she wore fake metals. There were ways around that, but they required dedication. Sam regretted not having any holy water on hand.
Dean cleared his throat. Bringing Sam back into the moment. He dropped his hold on Veronica's arm.
"Can you go home for the day?" Sam blurted. "I'm sure you heard about some of the funny stuff that's been going on around here--the people getting beaten up and blaming it on shadowy ape monsters--which is crazy, but..." He had the sudden urge to wipe his hands off on the sides of his pants. He hadn't been this uncomfortable with a lie in years. And he hadn't even lied yet. He took a breath and looked her straight in the eyes. "Please, trust me. There is something dangerous here. We're going to take care of it. But you should go home."
Ronnie tilted her head and made a snorting, gulping, coughing, noise. It was probably shock. Maybe doubt. Sam swallowed uncomfortably.
He dug inside his jacket and pulled out a card. "We'll be in town for a few days. This is a good number for me. Call me and we'll catch up. Have a beer, or something." She looked at the card like it was a cockroach. Then up at Sam like he was a moron. He was a moron. She was holding a pie. Her hands were full. He smiled awkwardly, embarrassed.
Ronnie closed her eyes and counted. Her lips moved with each number just like they used to. Once she reached her magic number, eighteen, she took a deep breath, and looked back up at Sam.
A hopeful smile twitched at this the edge of his lips. She would react right this time. He knew she would.
The color washed out of her face again.
Sam's heart sank.
"Nope," Veronica said, shaking her head. "This is all just...nope." She turned away from Sam, who was still holding out his card, and headed into the main part of the office.
Sam looked to Dean for help.
"We're Feds," Dean said smoothly, pulling out a badge, and blocking her exit. "Sam here is undercover. You need to leave because you might accidentally blow that cover. But," Dean added, "you can leave the pie. I'll take care of it."
A wave of relief washed over Sam. His shoulders dropped an inch and he stood up slightly straighter.
Veronica looked at him and at Dean and back again. “No. This is not happening. Not today.” She closed her eyes, took a deep, and then she was pushing past Dean, walking away from the Winchesters as fast as possible. The meringue wiggled slightly as she fled.
“What's she got against you, Sam?” Dean turned his head to watch her scurry off. "Bad-break-up?"
Sam rolled his eyes, “We were friends at Stanford, nothing else.” Sam grit his teeth and strode after her, rapidly closing the distance. “Hey, Veronica. Wait!”
The hallways was a generic white with a generic grey carpet. The cubicle maze was identical to every other corporate cubicle maze they had ever encountered. In this environment, a suit was as good as an invisibility cloak. At least it was as long as there wasn't any drama.
Ronnie spun around to face him, her skirt lifting slightly. He pulled up short and just barely avoided running into her and getting pie all over his suit. The top of her head reached his collar bones.
“You cannot be here Sam Winchester,” she hissed. “I am in a good place. People love me here. I am finally getting the respect and appreciation I deserve, and I will not have you destroy it! Again!” She took a determined step forward, and Sam tripped backwards to get away from her, gathering his arms up as he tried to shrink. "You haven't even bothered updating your damned lie!"
"Please calm down, ma'am" Dean ordered. She glared over the top of her glasses at him. She should not have been intimidating. She was a foot shorter than Dean in heels and she was holding a pie.
"I know damned well that Sam isn't a Fed. I don't think you are either, Doug. Shit, that's not right," she bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling and then back at Dean, narrowing her eyes.
"Dennis!" she said triumphantly.
"Dean," he nodded his head solemnly.
"Whatever. I don't care who you are or what you are hear to steal. This time, I'm going to stop you."
Sam stepped toward up and spoke low and urgent. "Ronnie, you don't understand--"
"You used up all your credibility eight years ago," she hissed. "You don't get to try and sweet talk me again." Her face was blotchy. She started to turn away, but didn't even manage a full 180 before she'd turned back again.
"Despite everything,” Ronnie said, her voice low and furious, “I made peace with what happened. In the end, I was glad that I had sexorcised you from my life. It is embarrassing, now, to think that I ever had a crush on a man like you. That I thought Jessica was lucky to have landed you--” She stopped speaking abruptly, her eyes shiny, her skin flushed. Her hands were shaking with anger around the pie pan. She gritted her teeth.
“Fuck,” she huffed, “I'll make another one.”
She slapped the pie in Sam's face.
Stepping back to survey the mess with a triumphant snort, Ronnie flipped her hair and stomped off, calling back over her shoulder, “You've got a 30 second lead at most, Shaggy! I'm calling security right now!”
Dean’s eyebrows were popping off his face. “Well, isn’t she just adorkable. Good thing we've got inside contacts." He looked at Sam, who was dripping pie and swallowed a smile. "You're getting slow, Sammy," Dean said as he patted his brother on the shoulder.
Sam wiped pie from his nose and chin. Veronica's rage had caught him off guard. She was one of the few people from his past he was still on good terms with. At least he thought they had been on good terms. At least neutral terms. Not pie in the face terms.
“Oh Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Dean muttered, glowing with pleasure. “Don’t worry. I’ve been there. You probably deserved it.”
Dean was savoring the moment. Sam could see the plans slowly developing in his head. There would be puns, and jokes, and stories. For years. Dean even unconsciously licked his lips.
“Is her pie any good?” Dean asked. There was a sweet lemony smell that was wafting in the air. Maybe a lemon-lime mix. There had been candied slices of both decorating the edges of the crust. And a slight note of something barely floral mixed in as well, maybe lavender, or passion fruit?
“You know what,” Sam declared brightly, wiping more delicate meringue and thick sticky custard off his face, “why don’t you try it?”
It wasn’t a whole pie, but Sam’s hands were not small. He managed to get a significant amount of pie onto Dean’s face. He wanted to get the stuff stuck up Dean's nose.
Suddenly the absurdity of the whole situation struck Sam and he started laughing: big, knee slapping guffaws.
Dean licked his lips without wiping off his face. There was defiantly passion fruit in the meringue.