You barely yank your sweatshirt down in time to cover your stomach, a deep blush rising to your cheeks.

"Sam, what the hell?"

And it's not like he hasn't seen you change before, hell, hasn't seen you naked before. But you don't want him to see you like this.

He stands in the now open doorway, a hand still on the doorknob. His face is tight with concern as his eyes land on yours. "Are you crying?"

"Dude, you can't just...just...bust in on me like that," you retort, moving to push past him.

He easily blocks you, two hands landing on your shoulders to halt you in place.

"Dude?"

You can't look at him, and your voice wavers as you spit out, "Let me go, Sam.

But he doesn't let you go.

His hands slide up your shoulders to your face, cupping it softly between his palms as he lowers his head, lips firmly connecting with yours. And you're still crying as he pulls you to him, as he easily lifts you up and sets you down on the bathroom counter, his hands now on your thighs as he kisses you deeply again, then a third time.

He leaves your lips and finds your cheek, your neck, your chin where the streams of liquid have pooled. And then you're clinging to him like your life depends on it, and he's hugging you just as tightly, one hand rubbing up and down your back while you burrow your head in his chest as he gently whispers in your ear-

"It's okay, Y/N, I've got you. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Psssh, 'm fine," I mumble. He helps me plop into my seat, and I groan as I let my head fall back against the wall. "Doc'll stitch me up, be good as new."

He sits down next to me, apprehension all over his face. "Uh-huh. And remind me what our backstory is again? Because 'sliced by werewolf claw' probably won't go over too well here."

I snort air out my nose. "We could tell'um that I saved you from pirates."

"We're over three hundred miles from the ocean, Y/N."

"Land pirates, Sammy. Obviously they were land pirates."

"Exactly how much did Dean give you to drink?"

I roll my eyes and angle my body so I can look at him. "Enough. If you're embarrassed to be seen with me, Samster, you'can gooooo. I don't want you ta'feel like I'm makin' you stay. Don't have'ta be here if you don't want to."

His hand comes up to brush my messy hair back, lingering on my cheek for a few seconds. My lungs have forgotten how to work properly, a breath caught in my throat as he smiles softly at me.

"You didn't force me, I volunteered to be here, remember?"

I swallow. "You mean you lost to Dean at 'rock-paper-scissors'."

"We both know I can beat Dean any day," he replies with a wink.

Then his arm is around my shoulder again, and my head is resting against his chest like it belongs there as he gently rubs his hand up and down my arm.

"I'm glad you're going to be okay, Y/N."

I look up at him as best I can without moving. "Worried 'bout me, Winchester?"

He hugs me tighter to him. "Always."

Everything we faced and defeated together didn’t matter. In the end, he chose Crowley and being a demon. After all the time I spent looking for him, he told me to fuck off and nearly broke my arm. Fine. That’s it. Dean can be a demon.

I could have had a degree from Stanford. Maybe it’s not too late to go to college. Law doesn’t hold the appeal it once did. Can’t really see any reason to fight for justice when there isn’t any, but there are other options. 

I learned one thing spending the last ten years on the road with Dean. Fighting for right will drain you dry until you have nothing left to give. What did all that putting my life on the line, being possessed, and going to hell get me? My brother’s a demon, a demon who doesn’t want to be saved, and I don’t have the normal life I gave up to be a hunter. That’s okay. I have plenty to do without him. 

I hold my empty glass up in the direction of the waitress. “Another one.” 

She smiles at me before she turns to get my drink. I know what that smile means. It’d be easy to fuck her. As she walks away, I check her out. Girl’s got a nice ass. I think I have plans tonight.

She puts my fresh whiskey down on the table, making sure to bend over and give me a good view of her cleavage while she does it. I let my eyes linger there. She’s offering the view, I’m going to enjoy it. 

“What’s your name?” I ask her, slowly bringing my eyes up to hers. 

Her smile is even bigger now. “Natalie.”

“What time do you get off, Natalie?” She’s pretty. We’ll have a good time.

Natalie’s fun, and she’s even better looking with her clothes off. That cleavage she was showing off doesn’t disappoint. Her tits are soft in my hands, and she’s so responsive. The sound she makes when I pull one of her nipples into my mouth is a sound I’ve never heard in bed before. Makes me forget I don’t have a brother anymore.

She’s tight and warm. The way she’s clenching my cock, I need to focus to keep from coming too soon. Not yet, I want this to last a little while longer. 

I’m enjoying the noises she’s making. I like that I can do that to her. The more she claws at my back, the harder it is to hold off. Finally, I let go, and my mind goes blank. There’s nothing but my throbbing cock and the relief that brings.

For a few minutes after, I lay with her. I remember Jessica, but not for long. It’s only a flash in my mind. Her face, the way she once smiled at me. Then it’s gone. It doesn’t mean anything anymore.

I roll back to Natalie for another go. This time it’s rougher, and she likes it. She’s on her hands and knees; the sound of my skin slapping hers is loud, so loud I imagine that the people in the next room can hear it, and they’re jealous of the fucking I’m getting.

It’s a game for me to see just how deep inside her I can get. The deeper I go, the louder she moans. I grab a handful of her hair and pull her head back.

“You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” I smack her ass when I say it, and her pussy tightens around my cock. It makes me come again.

This time, there’s no lingering in bed when we’re done. I get up and get dressed. My plaid shirt goes on last. It reminds me of who I used to be and what I used to do, but there’s no nostalgia. I wasted a good chunk of my life.

“Room’s paid for tonight if you want to stay,” I tell her. 

“You’re leaving?” she asks, like she’s surprised. Maybe she is, but she really shouldn’t be. I didn’t do anything to give her the idea I’d stay.

“Yeah, I’ve got some business in Santa Fe.” That’s a lie. I kept the magic credit card from Charlie. I never have to do anything again, and that’s probably a much better idea than going back to college.

Once I turn from her, I don’t look back. The door closes behind me, and I take the first steps across the parking lot. Baby is waiting for me. 

It feels good sitting in the driver’s seat. I turn the key in the ignition and hear her rumble to life. My eyes close, and I listen to her purr. When I open them again, I put her into gear and pull onto the highway. 

Somewhere out there Dean is with Crowley. His eyes are black, and he’s doing what demons do. I click on the radio. “Stairway to Heaven” is playing; the music has a lulling sound, but it isn’t a comfort. My brother liked this song. Maybe the demon does too. I don’t know.

It was tough at first. He still woke up in the middle of the night at the slightest sound and grabbed for the gun under his pillow. After a few months, he put that gun away. More time passed; Sam found a job that earned him a steady paycheck every two weeks, and you started looking for a house together.

The search had brought you here. It was Christmas Eve, and you were standing next to Sam in your dream made real. You didn’t have any furniture yet, but you did have a Christmas tree. As soon as you closed on the house and got the keys, you went Christmas tree shopping together. You didn’t pick the fullest or the tallest one. The tree you picked had an “empty” spot. It’s branches weren’t evenly distributed, and you loved it for its imperfection. 

The next stop was the store for ornaments. You were starting with nothing. Neither of you had boxes of decorations lovingly collected for you by parents anticipating the life you would have in your own home with your own tree one day. But you did have that home. You had that life, and you were just fine with buying your own ornaments.

 Sam’s favorite color is blue, and he wanted some blue ornaments. Blue isn’t exactly the most popular color for Christmas decorations, but you found some icicle ornaments that made him happy. Sam deserved this. This was his first Christmas tree, and you were going to share it with him.

You stood together now in front of that decorated tree. Sam twined his fingers through yours. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect, Sam.” It might be his first tree, but he had planned out the position of the lights, and paid attention to every detail until that tree looked just the way it did in his head. The lights glowed red, green, yellow, and blue casting a soft glow around the room. 

There were no other lights in the house, and the resulting atmosphere was cozy and romantic. There was a large sleeping bag made for two spread out on the living room floor, and a fire burning in the fireplace. The logs made a low popping sound, sighing out their contentment. 

Sam let go of your hand and turned you to face him. The light from the fire and the Christmas lights met in his eyes. “I love you, Y/N.” The words were still echoing in your head when he kissed you.

When your lips parted, you kissed his cheek; and your mouth made its way to his ear. You whispered to him, “I’ve always wanted to make love under a Christmas tree.” You felt Sam’s hand go to your waist, his fingers resting on the top of your hip. Gently, he pulled you to the floor and made your wish come true.

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