“Miss me, sweetheart?”

 He smiled down at you sheepishly, as if he’d showed up late after a night out. As if this was normal. For a moment, you froze, unable to register what was in front of you.

 And then everything clicked into place, and you stumbled back to your feet, pushing yourself up using the back of the couch next to you and grabbing your gun.

 You lifted it up, having to use two hands just to keep it steady between your shaking limbs.

 Deans eyes widened, staggering backward. He raised his hands, trying to show you he meant no harm. Bobby had been right- maybe dropping in with no warning on the woman who allegedly hadn’t spoken in four months because of his death wasn’t the greatest idea.

 “Y/N-”

 “How dare you.” Your voice shook, but it wasn’t from tears (not yet anyway), it was from rage.

 “How dare you- you shifter- demon- zombie- bastard-”

“Y/N, please-”

 “NO! No. Don’t. Don’t you dare. How dare you even think of taking his image- of parading around in his skin- how dare-”

 “Y/N, honey, just listen for a second-”

 “Don’t honey me! You don’t get to call me that you- you… you aren’t him. He’s dead, okay, he’s gone- and- and I’m not gonna let you convince me otherwise. No one can. I- I can’t- I can’t let myself think for even a second that you might be-”

 You choked off, swallowing. Dean watched you with crestfallen eyes, desperate to scoop you up and take you into his arms.

 “Because- because if I do, and then you’re not- I don’t know if I could survive that.”

 Your voice broke, and it was no longer from rage. The crack was deep and sharp in your words; the kind of sound you only hear just before someone is about to break completely. Like the first, tiny crack before a dam bursts.

 And so it did. The tears came hot and quick, flooding down your cheeks. You were barely keeping up your gun, your arms weak as you tried to mask the fact that your legs felt like jelly.

 Dean swallowed, trying to keep himself from sweeping you into a bone crushing hug, inevitably getting himself shot in the process. He began in a whisper, low and calm, trying to comfort you despite the gun pointed (albeit weakly) at his face.

 “Y/N, listen to me, for a second, okay? It’s gonna be alright. I’m not a Demon or a shifter, or a zombie. I promise. Look, let me prove it to you, hold on”

 He lowered his arm, reaching to the back of his waistband.

 “I’m gonna grab my silver knife, okay? Look.” He pulled it out. “See? You know this knife. I’ve had it since I was seventeen. Pure silver. You’ve seen it a million times. Look, Y/N.”

 You watched, terrified, as he rolled back his flannel sleeve, revealing his taut forearm. He clenched his fist pressing the knife into his skin. You held your breath, waiting for the steam.

 He slid it across his skin, and blood dripped around the edges of his blade, dripping down his arm and onto the floor. It was a small cut really, just a few drops, but enough to show that he wasn’t a shapeshifter.

 “See? No sting.” He raised his eyebrows and you. You said nothing.

 “Where’s your holy water?”

 You shifted back and forth on your feet, unable to force any words through your throat. You nodded feebly to the counter to his left, a flask buried under a stack of ramen packets.

 He brushed them off, picking up the flask and opening it. He held eye contact, raising it to you as if in cheers.

 “All me.”

 He took a gulp.

 A sob slipped from your lips, and everything just fell apart. Your knees gave, and you nearly dropped to the floor, caught just before you hit the ground, strong arms encircling you like a safety net, dropping down with you so the both of you kneeled to the floor safely, his arms tighter than they’d ever felt before. The gun fell with a clang, but you both ignored it, wrapping your arms around his neck and gripping his jacket, burying yourself in him.

 And then you sobbed. Heavy and loud, tears streaking into the soft, warm, living skin where his neck and shoulder met.

 Finally, when the sobs subsided, your hiccupping slowing to a minimum of once or twice every few minutes, you spoke, voice still raspy.

 “How?”

 Dean pulled back a little so that he could get a good look at you, shaking his head.

 “I… have no idea. I just woke up in my grave, and... now I’m here. Good as new.” He paused, pursing his lips in thought.

 “I take it from everything that just happened, you weren’t the one who got me out.”

 “No.”

 He glanced away, thinking. You were both still pressed firmly against each other, kneeling on the living room floor, wrapped around each other.

 “Okay, okay good.” He leaned forward, kissing you on the forehead, a wave of relief rushing over him.

 “Good.”

 For a minute, you both just sat there holding onto each other silently, not doing anything, just relishing in the feeling that you were both there.

 Suddenly, Dean spoke up.

 “Hey, Y/N?”

 You quirked your head up to look at him.

 “Hm?”

  “There’s something I need to do. That I didn’t get to.”

  You furrowed your brow, confused, ready to force yourself to stand, to tear yourself away from him.

 “What’s that?”

 He paused, eyes roaming over your face frantically, taking in every detail, convincing himself it was real. Convincing himself he was really about to do what he thought he was.

 “This,”

 And then his lips were on yours. And it was more than anything either of you could have possibly conjured up in your feeble imaginations, fantasizing about one another in dingy motel rooms when you had nothing better to do.

 You were soft, so impossibly soft and sweet. Like honey and lavender and chocolate and all the sweetest things together wrapped up in a little present just for him.

 He was soft too, oh so surprisingly soft. Your lips moved against his perfectly- it wasn’t magic, no. It was a kiss. But it was a kiss waited for, for over fifteen years. It was a kiss long since imagined by both participants. It was a kiss between two people that were so desperately in need of each other and in love with each other that even though it wasn’t magic, no force in the world could ever tear them apart.

 But finally, when they did part, it was of their own will. Dazed and a little bit bruised in the lips-  which were pink and plump and absolutely distracting had it not been for the fact the both of you were struggling to get your eyes open.

 “God, I really wish I’d done that a long time ago.” He breathed, barely able to keep himself together.

  “Mm-hm. No more wasting time,” you nodded, pulling his lips back to yours, cupping his cheeks. He grinned into your mouth, breathy laugh muffled by his lips molding into yours.

 Without really thinking, he stood, pulling you to your feet with him, somehow managing to keep your lips interlocked as he did. You took one, maybe two steps back, and the next thing you knew, you were tumbling down, bum pressed against the arm of the sofa. Dean, lost in your lips, plummeted down with you. You froze, the both of you stuck between each other, deans entire body pressed up against you, his elbows the only thing keeping him from crushing you completely, lost in each other’s eyes.

 And then you laughed. Wholehearted and light, and just as he did in the fall, Dean followed after you. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed this hard- or at all, really.

  God his laugh was gorgeous. Full and hearty, his eyes crinkling up in the corners, head thrown back (quite awkwardly in the position he was in), shaking with joy.

 As the laughter drifted out of you, slowly dissipating into the quiet of the cold, winter cabin, so did the realization that you were here, in his grasp, right in front of him, drift over the both of you.

 He repositioned himself, bringing his hand- rough and calloused- to the side of your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek.

 “God I missed you.” He breathed.

 You swallowed, the revelation of the person you love being alive and well, right in front of- or rather- on top of you, sending your heart racing.

 He leaned down, pressing his lips back into yours, sweet and slow this time, but somehow all the more passionate. You raised your arms, carding your hands through his hair, tugging softly on the silky strands.

 “Dean,” you panted, barely able to speak between kisses, desperate to keep your lips close to his.

 “Need to feel you. Need you. All of you.”  

 He grunted a little as if trying to hold something back.

 “I know. Me too.” He whispered, his voice muffled between your lips.

 It was more than just sex. More than just a need for something you’ve wanted since you were fifteen. It was the need to be able to feel one another, completely. To be able to know that you were both there, standing next to each other. Safe. Sound. Whole.

 Finally, he pulled back, and you whined, But he pulled you up with him, standing on your feet for only a second, before his strong arms slid down your form, sweeping you off of them. You didn’t think, you just moved, connecting your lips with his and clutching him closely, wrapping your legs around his waist.

 You felt as he made his way towards the stairs, and you separated your lips from his so he could see. Instead, you made your way down, kissing and sucking every square inch you could get your lips on and before you knew it, he was laying you down on your bed upstairs.

 He followed your lead, kissing down your neck, slow and easy, taking his time.

 His hand wandered, eventually finding their way under your shirt, trailing up your stomach and your sides. You were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were wearing almost nothing. That your heart was beating harder and faster than you ever thought possible. That this was actually happening.

 He pushed up your shirt, nearly above your breast before you blushed, tensing up involuntarily.

 He stopped, pulling away immediately, sensing your discomfort.

 “Hey,” he exhaled, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek.

 “Is something wrong? Because we can stop if you don’t-”

 “No, no I do,” you assured, lifting your hand and resting it on his neck, playing with the hairs at the base of his head.

 “It’s just I… I don’t know, you’re so- and I’ve wanted this for so long- but what if I’m not-”

 What if you weren’t good enough? Pretty enough? Skilled enough? Dean Winchester had been with a lot of women in his life- a lot of gorgeous ones at that, and none of them ever left unsatisfied. Most times neither did he. What if you couldn’t compare? What if he sees you and decides to change his mind?

 He cuts you off.

 “Honey,” he sighs. “You are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. No one could even compare.”

 It was like he read your mind. You searched his eyes, desperate to find some sign that he was lying, that this was some joke- because it had to be- and you’d rather figure that out now before you got even more attached.

 But there was nothing.

 Your body relaxed a bit, and he smiled.

 “Ready?” he asked, and you bit your lip, nodding.

 He moved his hand, palm pressed lightly against your abdomen, sliding across your skin softly. He pulled at the hem of your- well, his- shirt, and you pushed yourself up so that he could lift it off of you.

 Before you could even think to be self-conscious, his pupils dilated, sucking in a breath of air.

 “Fucking gorgeous,”

 His eyes raked over you, and even though you had yet to take off your panties, you’d never felt so naked. His gaze was indescribable, but in that little room, just for a moment, you felt as beautiful as he saw you.

 His lips dropped to your skin, pressing softly between the valley of your breasts. Then, they latched around your nipple, sucking softly and nipping ever so gently with his teeth. You shuddered, arching your back slightly as he brought his left hand up to tend to your other breast. He twisted the nub between your fingers, heat pooling between your legs.

 He stayed there for a while, switching between each breast, making sure to give them equal attention.

Finally, he continued down, leaving wet open mouthed kisses down your stomach.

  Before you knew it, he was kneeling at the end of the bed, your legs hanging on either side of his head.

 You pushed yourself up on your elbows so that you could look at him, and he watched you intently, reaching behind himself and shucking off his t-shirt.

  "Oh my god, Dean, what's that?"

  You practically jumped up, straightening up, forgetting completely that you were nearly naked, and that Dean Winchester was between your legs.

  "What- oh. That." he glanced at his shoulder, and you frowned.

  "Yes, that! Are you okay, what the hell is-"

  "It's alright, beautiful, I promise. It was there when I... 'woke up'. I'm okay, really. It doesn't hurt." he assured. You stared at it, in awe.

  Slowly, you leaned forward pressing a kiss in its center.

 You leaned back, and he smiled at you.

  "All better." he breathed, and you rolled your eyes, falling back on your elbows.

 He held your gaze, pulling you forward, lifting your legs so your thighs rested on his shoulders, and then he dipped his mouth.

 He didn’t go straight in like you imagined, even over your panties. No, instead. He pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh, just shy of your now soaking heat.

 “Christ,” you sighed, letting your head fall back against the soft pillows of your bed.

 After quite a bit of kissing, nipping and sucking between your legs- once you were sure you had more than one bruise down there- he pressed his mouth against your panties. You shuddered, his mouth closing slowly in an open mouth kiss.

 He started at the top, pecking down your panties, which somehow felt both way too thick and impossibly thin at the same exact time.

 Just as you were about ready to beg, you felt him hook his thumbs in the waistband of said detestable underwear. You lifted your hips as he pulled them down, slowly kissing each inch of skin as he passed it by.

 You leaned up, trying to get a good look at him, but it didn’t last long, because he was back between your legs, and just as soon as you lifted your head, he locked eyes with you, stretched out his tongue, and slid it up your pussy in one long, perfect swipe. You fell back against the bed once more

 Meanwhile, Dean- who was thoroughly enjoying himself between your legs- couldn’t think of a better moment in his entire life.

  God you tasted good. No girl he’d ever been with had tasted this good. He looked up, sliding his tongue in delicate circles around your clit, watching as you arched against him, hands dropping down and raking through his hair.

 And fuck, you were gorgeous. Your skin was so soft and creamy, every curve and edge of you perfect, just waiting to be grabbed, and kissed, and admired.

 You moaned, and he nearly lost it. His pants were tight, strained uncomfortably against the tent pressing at the front of them, and he was sure he was already hard enough to cut glass. But he didn’t care because all he wanted to do was taste you. Dip his tongue in your waters and drown in them.

 You were a fucking goddess. He was sure of it. There was no other explanation- you were a goddess, and your body was the temple in which you resided. He sat on his knees in front of you, desperate to worship.

 He wrapped his lips around your clit, and you whimpered, yanking his face even closer to you.

 He moaned, sliding his tongue into you as deeply as he was able. You moaned too, high pitched and strained, and you writhed so much under him that he had to place a hand on your stomach to keep you steady.

 The other hand, however, was free. So with nimble fingers, he slipped two of them into you, pumping them in and out, moving your tongue back over your clit and alternating between flicking and circling it. It took him a bit of exploring, watching you intently, but he finally brushed up one little part of you, bumpy and ridged under his fingers. You cried out, loud and raspy, your back arching involuntarily.

 “Oh god-”

 He grinned, and he curled his fingers, pulling them towards himself in a ‘come here’ motion, each time brushing against that one spot, causing you to go insane, his tongue still working mercilessly.

 “Yes, god, yes. Right there, don’t stop, oh fuck- Dean-” he reached up and removed a hand from his hair, bringing it to your hip, intertwining his fingers with yours. You gripped him something fierce, fingers nearly turning white, and he stared up at you, sultry, his own fingers still pumping in and out.

 “Yes, yes, Dean. Fuck, Dean- Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean-” you kept going until his name was the only thing you knew. Nothing else could get in or out of your mind other than him, and his hands, and his tongue, and his lips, and fuck- just him.

 You cried his name one last time as the coil in your stomach snapped, your walls clenching around his fingers. He moaned into you, but it was drowned out by the sound of you screaming his name, though he couldn’t complain in the slightest.

 When you finally came back to earth, sweaty and panting, you realized he was kissing his way back up to your stomach.

 His lips closed around yours, and you sighed, and you could taste yourself on his lips- it wasn't something that had ever particularly got you going but, god, you swear- Dean could do just about anything and you’d melt.

 “You’re so beautiful,” he sighed, breathing the words into your lips between kisses as if trying to breathe the idea down your throat.

  “I love you,”

 When you could finally think in full sentences again, you responded by pushing at his shoulder, signaling for him to roll over. He did, flopping onto his back next to you. You rolled on top of him, leaning down and kissing his neck. You took your time, tasting him, leaving marks- you wanted the whole wide world to know he was yours, and you were his.

 You reached down, fumbling with his belt a bit before sliding it out of its loops, tossing it to the side. You unbuttoned his pants with little effort, barely sliding them down before reaching in, grabbing his member and pulling it out, rock hard in your palm.

 You didn’t see it because your lips were still entranced by his neck, but you could feel him, and god- he was huge. You didn’t need to see him to know that he was the biggest you’d ever been with- eight inches at the least.

  You ran your thumb over his tip, catching a bit of precum that had developed. He shuddered, biting his lip in an attempt to control his moan.  

 Continuing your movements, you began to make your way down his chest, kissing every inch you could, just like he had done to you, desperate to taste every inch of him.

 You didn’t get very far before he reached down, grabbing your chin with his hand and pulling you back up to his face, capturing your lips in his for a chaste kiss.

 “Not now, beautiful. I need you- need to be in you,” You nodded, and he rolled the both of you back over, so that you were lying on your back below him. He pushed himself up, hopping off the bed, standing at the end of it.

  You watched as he moved, hooking his fingers into the waist of his briefs and his jeans, sliding them off all in one. Your eyes widened, and you swallowed- the man was a fucking Greek god. His stomach, strong and toned, accompanied by hefty, muscled arms am shoulders, dusted with freckles, strong bowlegs and thick, sturdy thighs that drove you insane.

  And god, was he big. It was one thing to feel it, but now that you were really looking at it- it was no wonder so many women left him feeling dazed and confused- with a package like that, and skills as fine as his- you were a goner.

 He hopped back on the bed, crawling towards you, kissing all the way up from your feet to your lips.

 You slid your hands up to his neck, letting your legs fall open, and he reached under you, hand gripping your waist like it was the only thing anchoring him to earth.

 “You sure?” he asked, and you almost laughed. You’d been waiting for this your whole life, he had too, and still, he cared about nothing more than your comfort.

 You leaned up to him, kissing him softly, sweet and slow, trying to pour everything you felt out through it.

 “More than I've ever, been” you breathed, and with that, he pressed himself into you, taking it slow, aware of how big he was.

 Inch by inch he sheathed himself into you, brow knit together, mouth hung ever so slightly agape. You looked similar, your neck craned back, pressed against the mattress.

 Finally, his hips were pressed flat against yours, feeling fuller than you ever had.

 You whimpered, gripping his back tightly, nails digging into his shoulders, head buried in the crook of his neck.

  He let out a groan.

 “You good, babygirl?”

 You nodded, voice a bit strained.

 “Y-yeah. Just gimme a s-second.”

 He paused, unmoving, making sure his hips went nowhere, but kissing up and down your neck and your chest sporadically.

 There were a few moments where pain twinged, your walls not used to being pushed so far, but it didn’t take long to surpass, adjusting to his size, and when you did, you sighed, letting your head fall back against the pillows.

 You pulled his face down to you, kissing him fervidly.

 “Make love to me, Dean Winchester.”

  He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. Before you knew it, he was moving, your body already arching against him.

 He pulled out of you almost completely, before thrusting back in, causing both of you to let out a long moan. He continued, thrusting his hips slowly, in and out.

 It took him no time at all to find that spot again, and when he did, you screamed, digging your nails into your shoulders so deep you thought you might just break skin.

 He took note and made sure to pound into that spot exactly, over and over, mercilessly.

 He slid his hand down between you, reaching for your clit and rubbing in quick circles, causing you to cry out even more. You felt the coil winding up in your stomach, getting ready to burst once again, and just as you were about to reach your breaking point, you shoved him over, rolling the two of you into opposite positions.

 He stared up at you for a moment, wide eyed and surprised, and you tossed your hair to the side, panting, still sheathed around him.

 “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that kid?”

 He slid his hands into yours, tangling your fingers together, pulling you down to his lips so that he could kiss you again- he hadn’t done it nearly enough, not yet, not ever.

 Leaning back up, you ran your hands through your hair, keeping it from your face. Separating your hands from his, you planted your palms firmly on his chest, arching your back, closing your eyes as his cock swiveled in you, brushing hard up against your g-spot. Your mouth hung open, past the point of even moaning. If you hadn’t been dizzy with pleasure, you would’ve noticed Dean gaping up at you, practically drooling.

 “Fuck,” you said it at the same time- his, a breathy groan, unable to contain his awe for you and how fucking gorgeous you were. Yours, high and strained, unsure of how much longer you’d last if not even moving drove you this insane.

 But then you did, and you through your head back, brow furrowed, eyes screwed shut, the both of you groaning obscenely. You bounced on top of him and he watched hungrily, eyes and hands roaming over every inch of you, grasping at your sides, pushing himself up into you as you moved.

 And then you stopped bouncing, but you kept moving. You twisted your hips, swiveling them in circles.

 And then he let out an unfamiliar sound- weak and breathy, like a whimper, nothing like any sound he’d ever made before- but holy fuck that was good.

 He couldn’t take it anymore because he needed to touch you, every single inch- so he pushed himself up, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his chest against yours.

 He thrust his hips, sliding up and down as he pushed himself upwards and into you. You kissed him, heavy and wet, lost in the feeling of your him inside you. But then he brushed up against your g-spot again, and  you cried out, leaning down and biting onto his shoulder, raking your hands down his back, surely leaving marks.

 “Fucking hell. Love you so much. So much, Y/N.”

 he panted, pulling you back and into his lips, kissing you, slow and sultry.

 You whined, barely squeaking out anything, stuttering each time he thrust into you.

 The coil wound itself up a third time, and this time you were sure you couldn’t contain it. You bit down onto him again, clutching the strong muscles of his back as the earthquake approached.

 “Dean, I’m so-”

 “I know babygirl. Go ahead. I’m right behind you.” He panted, voice nearly as strained as yours.

 And as if on command, you did, screaming his name into his freckled shoulder, entire body shaking, pussy gripping his cock, throbbing around him.

 “Oh, fuck,” he bleated, his voice wavering.

 Just as you began to come down, you felt his hips stutter, pistoning in and out of you erratically, and you could tell he was close. You kissed the bite mark on his shoulder, and he slid his hands up your back, holding onto you for dear life. He was moaning and groaning and whimpering all at once, generally making the sorts of sounds you’d only ever dreamed of hearing.

  Finally, he grunted, letting out a long, low groan, and you felt him spill himself inside of you. You swiveled your hips on top of him, working him through his orgasm.

 He lifted his head up, slightly dazed, and he rested his forehead against yours, breaths mingling as you panted, trying to pull yourselves together.

 Finally, your lips met, barely touching, barely moving, just feeling each other.

 You stayed like that for a while, just kissing and touching and sighing. You were wrapped around each other, pressed up against one another as close as physically possible, your head buried in his neck. He peppered kisses across your shoulder, hands rubbing up and down your back. Suddenly, without warning, you began shaking. He heard you whimper into his skin, the feeling of warm tears dripping onto his exhausted muscles.

 “Y/N? Baby, what’s wrong? Look at me honey, come here-” he pulled your face to his, cupping your cheek and resting his forehead against yours.

 You covered your face, embarrassed- dropping your head to his chest, trying to keep your cries quiet.  

 “Baby, please look at me. Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

 He pulled you up to look at him once again, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, impossibly gentle.

 You nodded quickly, wiping the tears from your face.

 “God,” you groaned, scrunching your brow together, face palming. “I can’t believe I’m crying- fuck. This is- this is not how I imagined our first time. I’m sorry, it’s just-” you hiccupped, biting your lip.

 Dean shook his head, voice soft and sweet, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear.

 “Shh, sh, sh, no, don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me for the way you feel. Never ever. Tell me whats wrong, beautiful.”

 You paused, trying to gather yourself for fear of exploding emotions all over him as soon as you tried to speak.

 “It’s just- god, I love you so much. So fucking much- and when you- when you- when you died. I couldn’t take it, I just couldn’t. I didn’t eat. I didn't sleep. I didn’t shower. I didn’t talk. I drank too much- and now all of a sudden you’re here. And you’re with me. And you’re real, and you’re alive, and you’re okay, and fuck, Dean, I love you so goddamn much, it's almost too much to handle.”

 Dean pulled you, close wrapping his arms around you in a hug, kissing the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

 “I know princess, I know. I missed you so goddamn much. I thought I was losing my mind without you- and then when I saw you again, and I touched you, and felt you, and then we-” he stuttered, and as if he wasn’t still literally inside of you, he blushed at the mention of what had just occurred.

 “-it was like everything was happening all at once. All you, all around me.”

 He straightened up, staring straight into your eyes, determination coursing through his veins and dripping out his lips.

 “But you listen to me, Y/N Y/L/N, I am never leaving you again, you hear? Not heaven, or hell, or anything in between could keep me away from you.”

 You swallowed, nodding softly. You weren’t sure how he would do it, or if he even could, but against all logic, you believed him.

 You sighed, stomach pressed against the soft white sheets of your bed, chin resting on your pillow, arms wrapped comfortably around it. More importantly though- under the category of arms wrapped around things- Dean was behind you, kissing up and down your back unceasingly, unable to keep his hands- or his lips for that matter- off of you.

 “You imagined out the first time?” he spoke out of the blue, surprising you slightly.

 You craned your neck over your shoulder to look at him, furrowing your brow.

 “What?” you asked, unsure of why he would ask such a question out of the blue.

 “Earlier. You said this ‘wasn’t how you imagined our first time’. So you imagined it?”

 You blushed, turning back and burying your face in the pillow.

 “Mm-hmm.” You nodded, oddly childish for the question you were answering.

 You felt him grin against your back, lips pressing to the deepest part of the arch in your spine.

“What did you imagine?” he asked, and your cheeks went up in flames.

 “Nothing much.” You squeaked, unconvincingly.

 He hummed, smirking as he made his way up your back, nipping at your earlobe.

 “Is that so,” he teased.

 You shivered, trying not to give in as he kissed across your shoulders.

 “Shouldn’t we be going?” you yelped, pushing him off you and hopping out of bed.

 He laughed, falling onto his back.

 You leaned over, picking up your panties to slide them on, quickly realizing they were not wearable, tossing them to the side and walking to the dresser, pulling out a fresh pair and slipping them on.

 Dean stared unapologetically, watching as the thin, lacey fabric stretched over your bum, cupping it perfectly.

 “My god, you are a work of art.” He sighed, tilting his head to the side as if to get a better look. You whipped your head around, blushing

 “Shut up.” You mumbled, pursing your lips in a pout. He only grinned more. “Come on, I mean it, Dean! Wheres Sam? And Bobby? Do they even know you’re back yet?”

 Dean rolled his eyes, pouting as you slipped on your bra.

 “Bobby knows. I went to him first- he was the only one I could get ahold of. He sent me your way- not after soaking me in holy water though.” He complained. You laughed, sliding on a pair of jeans, wiggling your hips into them- an odd feeling after spending so long not caring enough to wear more than an old ratty tee.

 “Smart. And Sam?”

 Dean glanced at the window, sighing deeply.

 “Not yet. Bobby told me you were here, and my mind just went blank. It’s like I was on auto pilot. I had to see you.”

 Your ears tinged red, and you turned away, grabbing a shirt and pulling it over your head.

 “He really just leave you behind?”

 You turned to look at Dean, thinking back to that night, on the way back from burying him. None of you said a word, not except maybe Bobby, saying you should get some sleep. He knew you wouldn’t though, so he just marched up to his bedroom, the same as the rest of you, no idea how to move on from this point besides drowning his sorrows in liquor.

 You and Sam caught each other’s eyes, just before stepping into your rooms. You didn’t say anything. There was nothing that could be said. And then you both turned.

 The next morning the Impala was gone. So were all his things.

 You understood.

 In fact, you understood so much that you threw some clothes and a toothbrush into a bag, wrote a note, and hopped in your own car.

 “Dean…”

 “No, I’m serious. He just left you and Bobby behind? Went off on his own?”

  You whirled around, raising your voice.

 “Everything was different, Dean! I know we promised to stay together but… You were dead! None of us knew how to handle it- we were all just trying to cope. Hell, I left too." You raised your arms, motioning to the cabin around you. You sighed.

  "You don’t know what it was like, Dean.”

 Your voice dropped, eyes glancing to the floor, avoiding his gaze. Dean pushed himself up on his elbow, frowning, feeling guilty. As amazing as the last couple hours had been, your wounds were still raw.

 “Y/N, I-”

 You cleared your throat, cutting him off.

 “Yeah, uh, you should get dressed. We really should get going.”

 You leaned down, grabbing his jeans and his briefs, pushing them into his chest.

 You turned to go grab your boots, but he grabbed your arm, bringing your attention back to him before you could even straighten your back.

 “Hey,” he breathed, “I love you.”

 He pulled you down by your shirt sleeve, kissing you sweetly. You leaned away, blushing, clearing your throat.

 “I love you too.” You rushed, turning away and walking over to your boots awkwardly, feeling his eyes on your back. He grinned- adorable.

 You took a seat at the end of the bed, bending over and sliding on your first boot, listening as Dean rustled behind you, the bed dipping and lifting as he moved, pulling on his jeans.

 He stood, walking over towards the dresser to pick up his discarded shirt, pausing in front of the mirror.

 “Dear god woman.” He laughed, and you looked up, confused.

 Your eyes grew wide- all across his back, there were long, deep, red claw marks, covering practically every inch of him.

 “I mean, I knew I was good, but I didn’t know I was that good.” He smirked, and you glared at him, turning back to your shoes.

 “I hate you.” You grumbled.

 “Mm. That’s not what you were saying oh, ten minutes ago.”

 You rolled your eyes, unable to wipe that wretched pink off your cheeks.

 “You’re an idiot.” You quipped, quickly tying your second boot and standing. He pulled on his shirt, stepping over and dropping down on the end of the bed, facing you. He leaned back on his palms, legs spread, grinning up at you like a gorgeous asshole.

 “Yeah but, I’m your idiot now, so,” He raised his eyebrows, lip quirking up into a lopsided smirk.

 “Yes,” you nodded, sighing deeply, unable to wipe the smile from your face despite your best efforts. You grabbed his chin between your fingers, pulling his lips to yours. He reacted immediately, a hand on your neck, pulling you even closer, the two of you grinning like idiots.

First, I must bring up the end of the last chapter - The Zero-Sum Game. That title would only make sense if I had something drastic happen to Cain, after their wonderful victory against Sigma.  Since thats what a Zero-Sum Game is.  Losing something of equal value after winning something, to the point where you’re right back at the start.

With that said, I did NOT start this chapter with X’s immediate reaction and mourning.  No, actually that was the last thing I wrote.

Instead, at first I opted to fade right in to the morning after, where X and Zero join Magma Dragoon who is very curious about Dr. Cain’s latest report on Maverick Hunter/Repliforce progress.  This was my X4 prep.  I liked having them decipher his notes and start to plant their own seeds of Anti-Trust against the Repliforce just amongst each other.  X was the only voice among them, who was pure and trusting out of all of them.

I really enjoyed this conversation, but where was it going?  I found a point soon in making Dragoon take this inner-mission by the reigns and deciding that he should be the one to look into Repliforce activities to see if they are truly trustworthy or not.  [This sets up something much bigger that I’ve yet to figure out, but it will include both Burn Dinorex’s shady criminal activity as well as Dragoon’s eventual betrayal to the Hunters from the Sky Lagoon Incident.]

I’m really looking forward to figuring that out and writing it.  But based on the timing, I’ve resigned myself to enjoying the holidays, while I mull this over after I’ve relaxed a little.

After that scene was over, I knew I wanted to include Gate/Alia continuity and even possibly kill Ground Scaravich for attempting to go to the Forbidden Place.  The death scene had no place in this epilogue however.  It was good enough to simply set this up, and let that happen during Season IV proper.  [I’ve yet to place that scene, however I’m sure that it will happen in the beginning of Season IV, while we establish the new normal of what’s going on.]

The challenge of Season IV will be to gloss over Xtreme 2, while also acknowledging that it happened.  I want the movies to serve as optional continuity.  Like, between Season II and III, you didn’t need Xtreme at all.  And Mega Missions only served to explain Doppler’s rise to power a little more, but you didn’t necessarily need it.  I want Xtreme 2 to sort of be the same.  So my challenge for a Season IV ep. 0 is going to be establishing the Repliforce nice and fresh, showing us that Cain is dead with a Funeral, figuring out where to insert that Scaravich death scene, and going from there.

Back to the epilogue though.  I really enjoyed introducing Scaravich into the series.  Technically, he was an easter egg in Ep. 1 of Season II, placed on a  Wanted Poster in the Hunter Police pad.  I didn’t expect to do it, but I actually explained why he was wanted a little bit in this phone conversation between Scaravich and Gate.  The X6 continuity stated that Scaravich stole old robot data and was wanted for that.  I made it that Gate was the one who hired him to do that.  [After all...  How do we think that Gate’s creations are so powerful?]  Its a fun idea to think that he took some Wily quality tips or something.

So yeah.  I enjoyed having them text and call.  I liked making Alia not trust Gate and decide to take matters into her own hands.  After her inner monologue from the other chapter, this felt pretty organic to me and not forced at all.

But then, I noticed that this epilogue was getting pretty meaty and still had no sense of closure.  It was starting to feel like an Episode 0, so I decided that I needed to do something quick.  I looked into the personal X & Zero endings, and realized that those have a lot more inner-resolve than the Xtreme Mode ending, which I already threw in at the end of Zero-Sum Game.

So in a bout of genius, I somehow figure out how to turn their personal endings into a conversation where they both console each other about Cain’s death.  I love Zero’s reactions here, because he is not emotional, but at the same time he does acknowledge a new sense of loss, which he has not discovered before.  I like how he brings it back to their performance against Sigma too.  And that’s how both X and Zero start to cope with the loss.

This conversation ended in a good way that I could give us a hint that more was coming in X4, and I finally felt like this thing had an ending.  There was just one little scene of Sigma continuity, implying that he is indeed still alive, and that Isoc will be at large with him and Split Mushroom by his side.  Ending Xtreme 2 on a dark note was not what I was expecting, but it works.

After all, it is very different from Xtreme 1, and I gave myself too many outside parameters to have the result be any different.  I knew that I wanted to have a Funeral for Dr. Cain in Season IV.  I just really wanted to explain why Cain is not there any more from X4 on.

But, I was not expecting to actually SHOW his death in the last chapter.  This put an immediate damper on the ending.  And primarily the epilogue was a way of showing them cope with that. It was also a chance to give us something of a happier ending, even if it was still riddled with unknown worries and sad confusion.

The very last thing I wrote was X’s immediate reaction to Doctor Cain’s death.  At first, I wanted to just fade this out, and have all reactions be implied by the reader.  But then I felt like I was cheating myself.  So I went for it.  And the whole chapter was much better for it.

The epilogue felt like it started properly, and the morning after scene now had a little more emotion put into the dialogue, particularly on X’s part.

From there, everything fell into place.

And that’s it!!!

MMXtreme 2 is finished, but this story certainly isn’t.  And at this point, it won’t be until I finish Season Vi!  The big picture outside of The Great Repliforce War, will be Gate & Alia’s disenchantment and her eventual break away from the Reploid Research Community.

Even bigger continuity, which we’re already sort of seeing is Isoc’s interactions with Sigma.  I’m gonna try and chill with Isoc in Season IV, however I’m definitely implying that THAT’S who Sigma was working with in X5, when concocting the Eurasia Colony plan.

And then of course there’s X6, where Isoc and Gate are on the same page, working together, his creations are back and Nightmare Incidents occur, all on the count of one thing.  The chance to analyze Zero’s DNA and inevitably getting corrupted by it.

Its fantastic.  I can’t wait to get there.   I know its still gonna take quite some time, but its nice to know at this point that there are no more in-between games in the way.  Now it’s just straight shooting between Season IV, V and VI from here on out!

...It took about 4 or 5 sessions to write.  First I had the challenge of writing Episode 8, Aftermath continuity.  I love that epic ending, of Blast Hornet using that Laser Satellite from the PSX video, but it dished out a new challenge for the Hunters to face.  Something I never thought of.

[If there was a laser that Blast Hornet used to destroy a city, or building, or what-have-you...  What did they do to stop it??]

Well, given my situation, I couldn't have X & Zero take care of it...  Not yet.  They still needed to recover!!

So I thought about my options, and what else I needed to do.  (Admittedly, I thought about this WHILE writing the episode, so the dialogue felt a little scattered in one spot. [Particular during Zarrick’s final conversation with Dr. Cain.] But I decided to keep it, because I felt like it was more organic this way.  After all, in moments of emergency, we’re not all collected with our thoughts and plans all the time, right?

I really had to sit on it and weigh some options. I went from deciding that a Team should go into Outter Space and shoot the Satellite down, to trying to set up the Enigma Cannon, and firing it as a current new weapon.  - (Apparently it's something of a relic by the time of X5...) I gotta tell you, I was thiiiiiis close, to really pulling some Wicked continuity out of left field to make that Enigma Cannon shot happen.

I thought about Web Spider’s stage, and what I’ve done with him since the end of Season II.  I even reread all his dialogue and everything.  It’s easy to conjure up the idea that he took Poison Toad and the other ex-Maverick Hunter OCs with him.  But... Repliforce had not been created just yet, and I didn’t want to delve into this weird middle-ground, Mercenary territory just yet.  What would really clinch this decision, would be more research on that Enigma Cannon.

When I looked into it, it seems like that Weapon that Web Spider guards in X4 IS actually the Enigma itself.  ...so I had to decide that either Web Spider was gonna help them out as a Former Friendly, or... figure something else out.

It didn’t take long to think up an Original Solution after that.  In the end, I played it safe and sacrificed left-field continuity, which could’ve been great Pre-X4 stuff.  But in this case, I feel that it gave Gear-Rig one last time to shine, and it also showed in a bittersweet way, that we didn’t really need him any more.  After 3 Seasons of sitting on their duff and analyzing stuff, I FINALLY gave the Research Unit a purpose... Dave and Lucas played a much bigger role in hacking, along with Gear-Rig, and together all 3 of them... re-aimed the laser and had it destroy itself from the inside.

In its own way, I thought this was a fun scene to write.  Especially all of the Dr. Cain moments being staggered along with real-time reactions between Doppler & Sigma. 

This was my quick fix.  Which took like... 10 pages right there, lol.

...then we get to the actual point of the episode itself.  I fast-forwarded us to a Week Later, where X and Zero were finally better and ready to work.  It took a minute to figure out that the new date (in story) was 3/24.  I should probably edit that, while its on my mind.  

From there X & Zero finally got to pursue their revenge mission, and I had the chance to finally enact this outside-of-the-box plan I’ve had for YEARS.

Come the middle of Blast Hornet's stage, when the Transport Carrier comes to collect supplies, I had X HOP ON THE CARRIER, and segue right into Gravity Beetle's stage right there.

From there, I staggered writing both Gravity Beetle's Stage and Blast Hornet's Stage directions.  This was a neat challenge that took 2 sessions to properly write. I initially skipped the Gravity Beetle sections, to keep Zero's blocking nice and flush.  Then I doubled-back and wrote X’s segments.

I was worried that I wouldn't have enough Gravity Beetle sequences to make the real-time feeling happen at all, but it actually worked out like CLOCKWORK!

I filled in the blanks, and wrote out BOTH fights in complete perfect sync with each other.

I was really surprised how well it worked out, and that I was able to pull it off.

I did get to one part in Gravity Beetle's fight, which didn't turn out exactly as planned.  I definitely always wanted X to get sucked up into Gravity Beetle’s void and to use the Charged Neon Splasher to bust his way out of it.  But I never planned on Gravity Beetle being nearly dead, during that sequence.  I always thought I’d have more time for them to fight, or for Gravity Beetle to really have the freedom to put the works on X in his own little Pocket Dimension.  But in the end, I was still happy to be able to throw it in as a last ditch effort, if you will.  X still got to experience it and get out of it.  And the Neon Splashers still ended up killing him, so I guess it’s all good.  

Also... I didn't think I was gonna do this, but I actually pulled out some inspiration from the Maverick Rising Soundtrack. Its been about 4 years since the Maverick Rising Soundtrack came out and was free for download.  As part of the beloved MMX Community, I thought it’d be neat to throw in an Easter Egg via Cyril the Wolf & Brandon Snell’s spoken word section of their Gravity Beetle cover.  They act as if GB is speaking, and the words aren’t half bad.  I decided that if I could make it work I would, and it ended up being his last words, actually.

Now... my initial problem with this idea was the fact that...  well...  Cyril the Wolf & Brand Snell quote Gravity Beetle saying that Dr. Doppler was good before he was infected.  And in my Overall Continuity, X already KNEW that.  They’ve worked with a good Doppler before.

So originally I was like, “Nah, I’m not gonna use that.”

But after this fight, I think I decided to use it anyway, because Gravity Beetle really wanted to impress upon X that the only reason why they fought here, was because he did end up becoming a Maverick after all.  And I suppose, this was more of an effort to.. Remind X, that Doppler was good, once before.  To maybe try to remember that before just flying off the handle and killing him, as he did with his brother multiple times.

[Boomer Kuwanger is not an issue up for debate though.  He had it coming in X1 when he wanted to destroy Japan just for fun.  In X2 he was a zombie and Gravin actually got to fight him.  And in Mega Missions, just months before X3, X had to off him again, because the resurrection was freaky and unnatural.  I suppose if it were up to Gravity Beetle, he would try to run tests and save him.  Who knows...?  It’s over now.]

So by the very end, yet again... I found myself in yet another situation that I hadn't thought of.  Now X has acquired Gravity Beetle’s Aircraft Carrier.

Now I just had to decide what the Hell was X gonna do with it...

Stay tuned for the final chapter of MMX Mega Missions.

Followed by another riveting episode of X & Zero making a strong comeback.

I was on a roll by the end of September.  This was my progress at the time:

So this episode takes off with GREAT momentum, thanks to Yoshihiro Iwamoto’s magnificent idea to revive Zero at the X-Hunter Base.  In his version that happened way back when X was facing Overdrive Ostrich, and it was an ongoing sequence over the course of 2 issues, which was pretty cool to read.

In my case, it was neat to pull from multiple Manga Issues here, as I basically had Zero’s Manga Moments all catch up into one giant Fan Script this time around.

So... the beginning of this issue was easily taken care of.  Zero would attempt to escape from the X-Hunter Base and become corrupted by the end of the episode, amidst X’s fight against Magna Centipede.

...I REALLY wanted to end this episode with X looking into the Monitor after defeating Magna Centipede and again having that gut-wrenching feeling of realizing what he might have to do.

...but instead, fate intervened.  The dreaded page count was way too long by the end of Magna Centipede’s battle.  I had to figure something out.  Maybe Zero’s segments were too long in the beginning of the episode??

I tried to cut them down, or cut to the chase, and I might have too, but there wasn’t much to do.

In fact, X gets to the Central Computer Facility quite quickly, and that battle against the Chop Register doesn’t drag on half as much as it felt when originally writing it.

I will say that those Stage Directions are boooooring though.  =/

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the visual help of playing X2′s stage so much... I wouldn’t know what the Hell I was talking about with all of those “Search Light” directions.  (I owe Flame some credit for that.  I originally thought they were random yellow orbs, but that was a result of wrongly interpreting poor SNES graphics).

So anyway... I tried to make the actual stage move as much as possible.  The quick Blast Hornet rescue was easy enough.  Keeping him “out cold” made things easier and less complicated.  I didn’t want to have to figure out, having to find a reason for Blast Hornet to leave X alone.

Honestly, it’s almost to the point where I should probably edit out Blast Hornet’s capture altogether...  It’s so anti-climactic.  But whatever...

I recall in the last 2 entries, bringing up how “burnt out” and “depressed” that I was.  Really, that’s not the best interpretation.  I was okay.  It’s just that when I was writing this episode, it didn’t fit so snug and picture perfectly like I hoped it would.  And splitting this into a 2 parter really bothered me.

Maybe I had known it’d be a 2 parter in the first place, but knowing that I was going to START the next one with a Maverick Battle, annoyed me a lot.

But then it excited me.  Because I recalled getting excited about writing anything about this project, DBZ style.  With massive epic battles, that could take episodes at a time.

I fell into a habit and a routine - (a very good one) of killing off Mavericks within an episode.  But this was one of those moments, where it just wasn’t in the cards.  And once I resigned myself to it, I was very okay with it.

I will say though - having almost a FULL Episode to handle X’s battle against Zero was dangerous.  That’s where I hit a low and complained to Nozomi about it.

I look back on this period of time, and don’t see much of a problem.  But I guess the process was taking a lot out of me.  The initial rush and excitement of Season II’s new, fresh mystique had completely lost all of it’s color.  It’s like I literally slammed X against a wall when I “killed him” in Ep. 7.  

Ep. 8 & 9, was like this cool, awkward bring-back/fooled ya, sort of thing.  I love the double episode dynamic between those 2.  They’re not 2 parters, but rather the same moment in time, taken from completely different perspectives.  I absolutely love that.  I’ve never done that before.

This was different though.  Now ep. 10 & 11 were gonna be forever linked.  This is the moment that X handled Magna Centipede, but it was completely overshadowed by Zero’s revival and subsequent corruption.

However, now that I look back on it - I’m good with it now.  They’re called Arcs for a reason.  And Season II had an amazingly strong First Arc.  The Second Arc, however was something of a slow restart.  X’s spirit is slowly being broken as he’s faced with some dark challenges.  His Best Friend who he had to accept was Dead, has just been given a 2nd chance at Life, and now he was Evil!!

Can you imagine how tormenting that must be??  How torn X must’ve been?

I really sort of felt that myself at this time.  Perhaps that was the source of my bleak state at the time.  I was truly feeling my art.

Who knows...

Either way, like I said - this Battle Continues in Ep. 11.  And lucky for me, it was already written.  So now all I had to do was write in the Zero sequences, and to make sure they were really good.

Stick around.  There’s more to come, and it’s about to get way better...

Happy Thanksgiving,