Lucifer saw those flaws in the making of humans. The disgusting hairless apes. "Father I don't understand. Why must me love and worship these..." hideous roaches beneath them. "...beings? They are unworthy just like the primal beings before them." God chuckled as he gazed was fixed on his son crafted from his own light. "Don't speak ill of the my son. One day you'll find it within yourself to love these humans the same or even more them myself. Give it time,Lucifer." The celestial nodded firmly before leaving to go his duties. Two humans male and female resided on earth in the garden of lavish wonders. Three decades they stayed there living freely,but no matter how much time passed their existence only brought hatred in the child of God something foreign yet grew stronger as they frolic in the lush greenery he loved.

Abandoning his post Lucifer snuck into the garden. Shifting himself into a form their weak eyes could handle a illusion like he taught his youngest brother Gabriel. Eve was alone and vulnerable without Adam near. The soft light that was her soul was so easily tarnished and twisted into a dark abyss full of defiance and rebellion against the order of a higher power. Lucifer proved how flawed these humans were how quickly they can turn on a higher power. Eve took a bite from the apple sealing the state of her soul and with darken tentacles of manipulation she tainted Adams soul as he took the second bite of the forbidden fruit. The archangel birthed a darkness in humanity that started inside himself.

War rained in heaven the fight between brothers as their father watched. Lucifer lost and him along with hundreds if angels the battle lost lead to their fall. God was disappointed in his son letting the darkness over take him after trapping Amara,but he did not blame him for he held out so long. He deserved a light though this darkness to become the archangel God made him to be a being made from his own self different from his children,angels,and his creatures.

Years later books of those events altered and mass produced. The night life within a bar was loud with the smell of sweat and alcohol permanating the air as a s/c women sat alone at the bar her eyes rakeing over the room. Two men played one seemed to be balding while the other wore red flannel sending her a wink as he sent the sould purple ball into the pocket. Rolling her eyes she turned to another group of men in the room a pair of blad men and quite large that had similar tattoos wolf whistled at the waitress that served them more tap beer and off in the corner a tall man with shaggy brown hair leaned over the jukebox suddenly watching the two men. Now the finial man that held her attention he was bald like the others and occupied the stool next to her his breath foul with something far stronger then the bitter liquid. She ignored his advances til he got up in a huff going over to the tatted pair standinv up herself she placed her payment on the counter and left the bar into the night the hungry eyes of the man following her. The woman walks along down a alley her heels clicking against the stone walkway. Her h/c hair out of her face,but she kept her head down. A silent set of foot steps creep behind her growing closer and faster to the female. "Where were you going? We weren't finished." The same man that tried to ger in her pants pinned her to the wall next to a dumpster his breath fanning over her next as his hands roamed her sides. "Don't you look good enough to eat."She could hear it the sound of his gums seemingly ripping to allow extra sharp sets of teeth out to sink into her exposed neck. Letting the scared facade fall from her face she pushed the blade between the before harshly pushing it forward through his jugular.

The head of the vampire rolled on the ground blood leaking from the half of the neck separated from it's lower vertebrae. Taking out her cellphone she dialed her first contact. "Took care of mine,how was yours?" She heard panting over the line before she reserved a response. "For suck a big guy he was fast." The h/c women laughed. "Or you're just getting old,Dean-o." Disgruntled noises sounded as she dragged the body to the dumpster lifting it up throwing it in as she lit a match tossing it in before closing the lid. "If you're done complaining about not being old I'm heading back to the motel to wash handsy creep off of me." She hung up as she walked out of the alley away from the burning corpse. Y/n Winchester wiped off her machete before hiding it back in her jacket.

Y/n sat in the motel room her clothes changed as she did research waiting for her older brother to get out the bathroom so she could brush her teeth. Not many knew of her which isn't surprising Mary was pregnant with her when she died,but magically she showed up on John's Florida room's doorstep with no explanation only a DNA test proving her impossible existence. The supernatural books also never mentioned her like they did Sam and Dean she was a faceless hunter that came and went on hunts when the trio questioned it Chuck said he never imagined a sister added to his writing. Y/n Winchester was a mystery,but to anyone that met her knew her as a blessing. She was the light in the dark protecting everyone from the evil weather it be a monster or one's self she was the definition of pure. Dean walked into the room putting his phone in his pocket. "Crowley called and he's pissed about something so once we get to the bunker we have to call him." The s/c women looked at him with a raised brow. "Why do we have to do it at the bunker why not here?" She asked and her brother shrugged as he got a beer from the fridge. "Apparently what he has to say is of high importance and no run of the mil muck needs to hear it. His words." Wonder what's so important.

"YOU LET LUCIFER ESCAPE!?!" The youngest Winchester yeld as she grabbed the demon by the throat using the dungeon wall to lift him up. "You know when you're mad you look quite beautiful." He choked out as his face reddened. "Flattery will get you nowhere." She dropped him as she turned away trying to calm down her brothers still trying to process the information. "How could you let this happen? You're the king of hell!!! You're suppose to lock and throw away the key before setting the damn cage ablaze." Crowley fixed his collar as he looked at the trio. "Demons still want him as ruler and some angels still belive in his cause. All it took was a demon to break the ring of holy fire and a angel to damage the cage and he was free and I've been over thrown." The Scottish man said as he reasoned with the young woman. "Why should we help you?" Sam asked as he watch him cautiously. "You two baboons proved you aren't much help so I'm not asking you I'm asking her." Dean grabbed his sisters arm trying to pull her back,but she stood firm. "Why me?" She asked Y/n has never seen Lucifer or any angel besides Cas for that matter how could she help defeat the first rebellious archangel. "He along with all angels don't know about your mear existence that makes you a secret weapon. And darling you are a force to be reckoned with. You've killed everything that dare go bump in the night so a highly skilled Winchester is what I need." Y/n looked at her brothers both of them giving her a look saying not to do it licking her lips she gave them a lop sidled grin before looking back at the king of hell. "What do I have to do?"

This is by far the stupidest plan she's ever been apart of. They were to corner Lucifer with the promise of Sam as a permanent meat suit and when he is about to agree she walks in dropping the match to light the holy fire before using a experimental blood magic spell to take him back to hell. The chances of this working and any of them walking away is slim. "No more tricks huh Winchester’s? No rings to send me back no loop holes." His voice was unfamiliar to her ears,but she knew who it was. "Well you don't know what magic I have up sleeve." Dean gave a cocky smile it was my time to walk in. Stepping into the warehouse striking the match on the heel of my boot. "Awe De I know I'm quite magical." As the blonde went to turn around Y/n flicked the burning match at the barley visible ring of oil causing flames to lick up growing in size. "And who are you? Another friend of these hairless apes I get to kill." Lucifer's eyes held firm as he gazed at her watching the flames illuminate her face with warm rays. "I'm Y/n,the hairless ape that's gonna drag your ass to hell." Opening the spell book she began to speak in Latin taking out a angel blade cutting her hand painting symbols as she crept closer to the archangel. "N/n you're getting to close." Sam step forward to grab her when a sudden force stopped him and Dean. "Crowley what the hell are you doing?! This wasn't the plan!" It was the eldest Winchester turn to protest as he watch his sister step to the edge of the fire. "She's the purest being in creation. Only the light can drive away the darkness. Why do you think I asked for her and not Moose or you Squirrel you've proven that you can't keep a lid on him." The demon smirked at the yet kept his eyes trained on the girl like everyone else in the warehouse as she step through the flames as they parted for her. Her bloodied hand touched his face and as the last syllables left her lips they both disappeared and the fire extinguished. The Winchester’s yelled in protest as the grip released on them and the king of hell went back to his thrown. Chuck looked at the tea stained page in one of his oldest journals thinking of what to write next with a snap if his fingers he re dipped the pen in ink before writing again the two opposites scenery changing into a place never seen before.

===============================

This wasn't hell it was unlike any place Luvifer has ever seen the area was green and full of vegetation,but there wasn't any animal life the only noise being the rushing water of the stream in the treeline. Doing a three sixty he walked into the slight clearing,the angel set his sights upon the Winchester on the porch of a cabin e/c staring back. "Where are we?!" He was tense and it was evident in his voice as he stormed towards her the stomping of his feet muffled my the lush grass below his feet. "I trapped to protect my family." Y/n said as she stayed standing slightly leaning on the wood rails. "Yes,but where,ape." She raised a brow at him her face blank and her tone dull as she spoke. "Y/n is the name Luci I suggest you use it. This is a prison I've built for us." He looked at her in complete shock. Lucifer didn't know if she was insane or stupid. "Why make this place? Why not just take me back to the cage?" This place was beautiful,but she made it for him so why is it so...gental. "You've broken out of that cage twice now clearly what's broke needs fixin'. Besides figured you needed a change of scenery so welcome to my little slice of heaven."

"This is...your heaven. I would expect more...life." The h/c Winchester shrugged and opening the front door. "Never been to fond of animals makes me to paranoid about what's out there and as for people I don't know." She looked at the blonde from over her shoulder beckoning him over as she stepped inside. Lucifer stepped inside and was overwhelmed with a warm feeling in his chest that matched the aesthetic of the home. "This place isn't completely made up though. Found this cabin while on a wendigo hunt,it was abandoned after the owners died and a monster was said to hunt those that went inside,the forest was so quite it scared me shitless every rustle I heard." She chuckled as she looked at the fire place using inexpensive the fire poker to flip the logs. "Most unnerving few days of my life,but after killing the thing I stayed for the rest of the week and almost never left...it became my sliver of the apple pie life. Lucky for you I felt like sharing." His wings twitched at her words he was apart in her happy place and she willingly gave him access to it. Lucifer's wings fluffed with pride,but his face was painted with a sarcastic smirk. "Awe you think your trapped me here,but Y/n you're stuck here with me just like poor little Adam driven mad he was a fun toy for the first few months he just broke to quickly. Sammy boy on the other hand... I even got to keep his soul for a while longer." Y/n knew what he was doing trying to get under her skin she wouldn't let him see how it effected her. "Well we're stuck her for all of eternity let the fun begin,angel."

It was the beginning of the second true battle between light and darkness. Everyday Lucifer tried to dim the pure energy that made up the hunters heart only to have his twisted grace illuminated. Back and forth felt like it went on for years and for them it was internally possible in that prison entrapping them as they stood still in time while the world revolved in orbit. Chuck looked done at them greatly impressed of the cabin along with the woods it was as if it was it's own small world. It had a understanding of time with day and night yet the weather never changed from anything harsher the gental sun rays or cloudy drizzle. It reminded him of what he made in purgatory those eons ago endless forest as far as the eye can see with the human soul being the only key to freedom. She truly was built in his image.

"You cheating lier,oh my father smite her for this witchery!!!" Lucifer yelled as Y/n grinned broadly. "Just declare bankruptcy and I won't keep taking your property." She grabbed the the two properties and the few bills he had as payment for him landing on board walk. "Never! I still have a five properties and a railroad I will not lose at the hands of a Winchester again." He would never admit that he pouted as he glared at the monopoly board in distaste. "You just don't want to be on kitchen duty forever." Y/n spoke and the angel huffed,but agreed. After what seemed like years of hate and resentment those reserves turned into friendly banter between unconventional roommates. "Accept defeat and I won't make you cook." Blue eyes looked at her debating his options with a sigh he hands over his cards as e/c gleamed with joy at the victory. "Now come on ya sore loser I'll make your favorite." That quickly adjusted his sour mood as he grinned as his eyes followed her like he'd never seen her before. Lucifer never felt anything for anyone let alone a human,but this one was turning him into someone new.

Y/n Winchester knew she couldn't let her emotions get the better of her while here. She noticed early on when Lucifer brought up her brothers to pull at her heart strings the weather became gloomy and untamed,but recently it was like spring was in bloom. Flowers she's never seen grew around the cabin everytime the archangels words hinted with flirtatious teasing. It was a odd tingle like when her eyes first layed on him,but back then she couldn't dwell on it now though she had all the time in the world. Lucifer was a name that caught her attention since she was young the name was like a curse word never to be uttered yet her lips recited the seven letter word like a whispered promise for what she never knew. Later into her life she had to think of the fallen angel as a monster because of what he did to her family Y/n world expanded for the worse when angels proven as a threat when it came to her brother as the two eldest archangels being the center of all the chaos. Yet no matter how much she tried she couldn't let go of the hate she still held for Michael even though she quickly grew accustomed to Lucifer. She almost wanted to yell out to the missing father or creation why her thoughts never left the being that dammed humanity. If only she knew that these feelings were mirror by the very being she thought of.

Lucifer,the archangel that's fallen so far from angelic grace never understood the light that invaded his mind whilst within the cage. Back when he first fell he thought it was the light of heaven growing small as he fell into the depths of the pit that soon became hell,but it seemed that light of the unknown took a form that was truly unclear that grew closer yet stayed out of his reach. Millenniums later the glow became a figure that called and when the seals all broke it was the closest it's ever been,but still to far for any clarity. While it wasn't till Lucifer took occupancy in the Sam as his meat suit did he seen the image of what he thought to be simple dreams crystal clear. Her hair was short/long reminded him of the finest silk,her skin a beautiful s/n that compliment her hair like it was hand picked by the most talented artist,and her eyes were just pure intoxicating making him fall in a drunken daze. He raked Sam's mind to find out who she was,but all memories were blocked from him all the pages of her existence ripped from a novel of the young Winchester’s life with only broken thoughts with a vege image of her existence.

The fallen angel realized this was far different from the cage and possibly a plan set for him long before he fell. His father created a being of pure light to cure him of his darken ways the moment he bared the mark to seal Amara in her prison. The miracle Winchester was never meant to live having thought to parish in the demonic flames that consumed her mother,but she was here changing the heart of the written villian of the story her soft hands molding his grace not to it's former glory though to somethings so much better.

As the rain softly poured outside the cabin the h/c woman looked out of it her hands warmed by a mug of (hot beverage) as she trailed each droplet that hit the glass with her eyes. Lucifer gaze looked at her from afar his heart full as the human,the one creation of his father's he hated the most, just sat before him. He felt love unlike what he held for his brothers or his father it was something that was reserved for only her,the day to his night. Creeping closer he sat opposite of her his gaze unwavering and it was soon met with her own. "I don't know how you did it,N/n." She smiled softly at the nickname,but still looked confused. "Whay did I do,Luci?" Y/n asked taking a small sip of her drink. He licked his lips before taking one of her hands in his own much larger one. "You make me want to be a better man. Be the angel you seem to see in me. You believed I deserved saving and you went with it knowing what I've done,but you still gave me a chance after all my fuck ups,gorgeous." It was almost impossible to stun a Winchester into silence,but she froze looking at him in shock and awe. "You've built this place and you could have leaved me here,but you stayed and changed me day by day no matter how badly I treated you." Lucifer the devil himself hesitated with the next words on his tongue he lost the confidence it took him to speak up and his eyes shifted to their hands his ran cold whilst hers warmed his palms . "I-I think I love you." The silence was thick almost strangling the archangel with the sheer weight of it.

A slight porcelain clack sounded and those warm hands cupped his face lifting his head up to look at her again, her eyes watered slightly with a soft sweet smile. She didn't say anything,but it was made up by they harsh push of their lips together. The spark almost made him pull away eventhough all he wanted was to lean in more. His arms pulled her in closer taking in the heat between them before she pulled away breathless her forhead leaning against his own. "I think I love you too." Tears slipped past her eyes and it was like she can see his grace shine through his Nick suit. "I also think it's time for us to go. We can't exactly stay her forever,Luci." She looked out the window and it was like the world was crumbling as she looked back into his calming blue eyes. "Why do we have to leave? Out there I'm a monster here with you I'm loved." Y/n gave him a much softer kiss it ending as quickly as it began. "I'll be out there with you defending you every step of the way,because you're not a monster you deserve to be loved." The forest was gone left with a bright white that seemed infinite. Lucifer pulled her onto his lap holding her close. "As long as I have your love,gorgeous." The cabin melted away form around them as they held eachother tightly his wings shielding her from the unknown.

When they opened their eyes the saw the were outside of a town pretty far form any buildings. Lucifer kissed the youngest Winchester on her head she gifted him much more then he's ever received. He used his grace to find where they were and he groaned having sensed a heavily warded place,possibly the reason they weren't closer,near by. "Do I really have to face your brothers now? I thought you do that after the first few dates." He joked as she looked up at him love in her e/c eyes. "I think we've pasted dating. We were roommates." Lucifer laughed as he kept her in his arms. "Once we're done with your little reunion we are heading to the cabin...the real deal this time." He said matter of factually. "I promise I'll take us both home." Y/n Winchester’s happy place was no longer only hers,but there's and it wall because she was the light to drive away his darkness. Making him a better angel.

Chuck closed the leather binder journal standing up to put it away on it's shelf thinking that's a good place to leave off. His finger ran over the embroidery on the front of the female Winchester’s name along with his son's. It's was their story after all.

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A/n: Done with another spn fic boy!!! Getting all the characters I didn't have in my fist round.

Quote: "You make me want to be a better man." ~ As Good As It Gets

“She moved on quickly,” you slide your fingertips over a shelf, stopping to admire a picture. “Nice, a classic muscle car. 1967er Impala, a beautiful thing. I’d kill to drive it.”

“The car is still in the garage, miss. His brother said he can’t drive the car and something about too many memories,” watching her warily you lick your lips. “He doesn’t want much. Only someone loving the car as much as his brother loved it. Sam said his brother called her Baby.”

“Baby,” you grasp for the picture to have a closer look, smiling. The former owner sits on the hood, smiling at whoever took the picture. “An attractive man, what a shame.”

“Rumors said he was a heartbreaker but wanted to settle down with his fiancé. I mean, he bought a house for her and renovated it on his own,” whilst the real-estate agent babbles about the garden, the master bedroom, and garage you only have eyes for the car on the picture.

“How much does he want for the house and car?” you whip your head toward your now smiling real-estate agent. “If he gives me the car too, I’ll buy the house.”

“I’ll call him, give me a minute. Here,” she places the keys to the garage into your hands. “Have a look at the car while I talk to Sam. I’m sure we will come to an agreement.”

“Awesome,” you squeal, jumping up and down. “I think this is the perfect place to start over.” Nodding to yourself you press the keys to your heart. “Do you have the keys to the car too?”

“Of course. Here,” she smirks, “but no going for a ride before Sam agreed to sell it to you, Y/N. We cannot crash his brother’s car.”

“Look at you, beautiful thing,” sliding your fingertips over the roof of the car you sigh. “I bet your former owner loved you, pretty girl. What do you say? I open the garage gate and we will see if you still roar for me.”

“Look at you,” a deep voice purrs and your head snaps toward the car. For a moment it seemed someone sat in the driver’s seat. “Baby, I miss you.”

“Odd,” you shrug. Nothing and no one can stop you from opening the door to the driver’s seat to slip inside. “Beautiful.” You run your hands over the steering wheel, smiling as you got the feeling the former owner did love the car. “I wonder why his fiancé didn’t want you, pretty girl.”

“She always hated my Baby,” the voice is back, and you look around the car, freezing when the car feels much colder, and you can see your breath. “Sorry. This happens when I stray for too long.”

“Let’s bring you back to life, huh?” you start the engine only to hear…nothing. “Aw, what’s wrong with you, Baby?” gently patting the dashboard you sigh deeply. “If his brother agrees to sell you to me, I’ll check on you, promised.”

“Sell my Baby?” the voice sounds sadder now, and you wonder if the long flight and the stress over the last weeks took a toll on you. “Sammy…why?”

“Please, do not sell the car to anyone offering you more money,” Sam Winchester, the brother of Baby’s former owner asks. “Take good care of her. Dean would understand I cannot keep her.”

“Dean, a nice name,” you shake Sam’s hand, give the tall man a soft smile. “Somehow it suits your brother.”

“I’ll sign the papers tomorrow. You will need a moving team. If you need help, tell me so,” Sam tries so hard to hold back the tears. You can see he’s struggling to keep his cool, so you grasp for his hand to squeeze it tightly.

“I promise to take good care of the car and house. I can almost feel how much love your brother put into this place and his car and,” you give the tall man a cracked smile, “all I own is in my car. When I said I’m starting over at this place, I meant it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to—” he bites his tongue, stops the words stuck on his tongue. “I’ll bring you the keys and papers in the morning. If you want to, you can sleep here tonight.”

“Bad breakup,” you splutter. “Just like your brother, my fiancé bought a big house. But he didn’t buy all the things for me but his ex-girlfriend. The one I found in our bed one day…”

“Oh fuck,” you throw popcorn at the TV you bought last week. Sam helped you to put it on the wall opposite your brand-new bed to enjoy movie nights. “He just killed his wife!” you stop the movie to take a sip of your wine. “Okay, let’s see what happens next.

Watching the next scenes, you frown deeply. “What are we watching, sweetheart?” the TV is too loud for you to hear the voice coming from the walk-in wardrobe.

“I could tell the police what happened. That it was an accident.” “You stabbed your wife in the neck with a screwdriver. Tried to bring her back from the dead, and then buried her body. That ain’t an accident, Roy. That sounds like a crazy person who killed his wife.” the dialogue of the next scene makes you snort.

“Dude, did he just try to excuse he killed his poor wife. Lame. I hope he gets what he deserves. But I’d like to see more off that sheriff guy. He wasn’t too bad to look at.”

“Your taste in movies is lame, but I like your style,” the voice whispers. “I have a huge collection of flannel too. Have a look. There should be boxes at the attic full of treasure.”

You shiver when an invisible hand slides over your exposed thigh. “Hello?” you laugh at yourself. “Stupid. There is no one inside these walls but you, the stray cat coming around for food and dust.”

You blame the lack of sleep when the voice returns. “Name’s Dean and I like that you are wearing flannel and sexy panties,” your eyes flutter shut, and you drift into sleep. You don’t feel the hand runs over your hair or that he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Wish we met before all this shit happened. I bet we would have hit it off like champs,” Dean flickers for a moment before he, yet again, disappears.

“So—how do you like the house?” Sam came around to check on you once again. He seems to be worried you live alone at his brother’s house, or he feels nostalgic and tries to stay close to the place his brother would’ve called home.

“It’s nice, and I didn’t have to change too much. I bought a new shelf and bed but anything else is very much the same,” you smile up at Sam. “I like it very much, Sam. Thank you for selling it to me.”

“You were the first one not wanting change too much. I had a good feeling,” you chuckle at his words, missing the pained expression when Sam’s eyes land on Dean’s pictures on the shelf. You didn’t dare to remove it. It just didn’t feel right to do so.

“I—I didn’t want to put it away. I hope this is okay,” he nods, giving you a soft smile. “Feels like the right thing to do.”

“Dean,” Sam trails off. “I need to make a few decisions and won’t be around much. I waited for far too long to do so.”

“Oh—okay. Don’t worry, I’ll not burn down the house without you checking on me,” you smirk, patting Sam’s chest. “Take your time. I appreciate you try to help me settle in, but sometimes, you must put yourself first.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” you whimper eyes glued to the screen. “Fuck, so close. I need to—” moving the vibrator a little faster you try to focus on the pleasure, not the fact you are watching porn and use a vibrator to get off. 

“Fuck sweetheart,” Dean bites his lower lip. “I—I don’t want to be a fucking creep, but it’s been a while since I saw a naked woman. Tilt it a little to the left. It will feel so much better.”

You are too lost in your approaching orgasm to care the voice is back, closer this time. Spreading your legs wider you move your hips, try to pretend someone is fucking you instead of the vibrator.

“Oh—that’s—no!” you whine when the vibrator makes an odd noise. “You’ve got to be kidding me, you piece of shit.” Frustrated you slide the toy out of your dripping pussy to throw it across the room. “This means no cuddling for you.”

“Sweetheart, let me help you get off. It’s been weeks of trying for you,” you feel the bed dip and then, his warm breath tickles your skin. “Lemme help you, Y/N.”

“Ah, what?” rough hands spread your legs wider, and you wonder if you lost your mind. “Fuck.” A warm mouth wraps around your clit, suckles harshly and you forget everything else. “Please.”

“Patience, baby girl. We’ve got some time left before I must go back,” lips travel up your belly, leave open-mouthed kisses on their way up to your chest. “Dean Winchester never leaves a woman in need alone. I will give you—no!”

A scream wakes you from your lustful daze. Your eyes flutter open and you jolt up on your bed, grasping for the blanket to cover your body. “Fuck, that was intense. Last time I only felt lips on my neck.”

“Sorry for leaving before you could cum, sweetheart,” you feel his fingers run up and down your sex this time. The rough patch of his thumb toys with your clit, rolls it gently. “This time I’ll stay a little longer—or forever if Sammy pulls the plug.”

“Shit this is,” you open your eyes to watch the man between your legs. He gives you an apologetic smile before, much to your disappointment, he fades away once again. “Dean??”

“Uh—this might sound odd but,” you look at the picture of Dean on your shelf while shuffling from one foot to the other, “do you believe in ghosts?”

“Ghosts?” Sam wonders aloud. He frowns deeply before he lifts his gaze off you to look at the picture of his brother on your shelf. “Did anything happen lately? I mean, did you hear, smell or see anything unusual?”

“What do you mean?” it’s your turn to frown. You watch the tall man sit on your couch, hands running up and down his thighs. “Sam, what are you hiding from me?”

“Sometimes people stay or come back to a place they loved while in a coma. The soul tries to stay while the body fights for its life,” he explains. “I believe my brother fights to stay here.”

“Fights to stay. What?” you start to pace the living room, hands stiffly clutched to your sides. “I thought your brother is dead?”

“No, no,” Sam gives you a sad smile. “He's on life support following an auto accident for over three years. I wanted to tell the hospital to end the life-sustaining measures months ago, but I can’t. I know his soul is gone but...”

“Oh—” you silently nod. “Can I visit him?” you meet Sam’s gaze, search his face to find out if you crossed a line. “It feels like the right thing to do. I want to thank him for the beautiful house and tell him I changed the spark plugs.”

“He would be happy to have some company,” Sam smiles. “I guess he got bored listening to my voice.”

“Hi—uh,” you sit on a chair next to the hospital bed, wondering if you should talk to Dean or just sit here. “I heard you were a mechanic before all of this happened. Now everything makes sense. Baby is in such good shape thanks to you.”

The machines silently work, keep the man in the hospital alive while you watch his chest rise and fall. “She’s beautiful, and I love the house. Especially the old armchair. I sit in front of the fireplace to read.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Nothing about my fingers in your pussy?” Dean snickers but his smile falters when his eyes land on his body. “Wish I could slip back inside my body to fuck you properly.”

“I replaced the sparkplugs a week ago. Now Baby purrs like a cat again,” you continue, ignoring the deep voice telling you about all the things he’d like to do to you. “Dean, can you just not?”

“WAIT!” he gasps, hand gripping your shoulder. “Did ya hear me, sweetheart? I mean…I thought you felt me, but this is a whole new level. Not even Sammy can hear me.”

“I thought you know I can hear you,” your eyes drift toward the man on the hospital bed again. “I can feel you too.” Oddly you feel calm when the invisible hand grips you a little tighter.

“Sonofabitch, we need to tell Sammy about it. Maybe he can use a spell or shit to get me back into my body,” Dean excitedly starts to pace the room. “Can you believe I hunted monsters and demons and then, a stupid car accident almost kills me?”

“Suburban hell, huh?” 

“Damn right, sweetheart. It’s just, I gave everything up for her and then, the accident happened. I always believed she would stay with me, or at least wait a little longer before she runs away with someone else.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he begins to flicker again, but this time, he doesn’t disappear. Dean fights for control to stay a little longer. He spent three years alone and now, he doesn’t want to stop talking to you. “If you want me to, I’ll talk to Sam.”

“He’s still here, Cas,” Sam paints odd signs onto the floor, chants words you don’t understand while you awkwardly stand next to his brother’s ghost. 

“Sam, I tried anything to heal Dean. I told you a long time ago to let him go,” another man says, giving Sam a stern look. “Why is he even here?”

“That hurts my feelings,” a smaller guy in a black suit chuckles. He cocks his head to his side to glance at Dean stand next to you. “I’m here to have a look at Dean Winchester, the fallen hunter. Nice to see you, Dean.”

“Can’t say the same about you, Crowley,” Dean grumbles next to you. “What do you want?”

“Help Moose and giraffe to get you back into your body. Now shush, and lemme work my magic,” Crowley eyes you up and down, smirking when Dean steps in front of you. “Even while half-dead you found a girl, huh.”

“You mean my magic, Fergus,” a red-haired woman enters the room, smiling at you. “Nice to finally meet you, Y/N…”

“Careful, you just got back into your body,” you tut, watching Dean stumble toward the couch. “What did that guy in the trench coat do to the doctor and nurses?”

“Castiel deleted their memory,” Dean weakly replies. He barely can stand for a few minutes, so you rush to his side to help him sit on your couch. “Thanks.”

“Now that we are roommates and you are back among the living, we should talk about a few rules,” sitting next to Dean you pat his thigh. “No more dying and, your car is mine.”

“Can we talk about rules after I tasted you for real?” he gives you a loop-sided grin. “Lemme make you feel good. And no, Baby is not yours. I’ll give you your money back.”

“You can taste a slice of pie, Romeo,” patting his thigh you give him a soft smile.  “After you got better, we can talk about the other thing and your car...”

>> Part 2

There was always a contrast when it came to the touch of Jensen and Danneel. No matter what there would always be soft as well as rough. It was the way you all liked it.

When you walked through the door, you smiled at the sound of Danneel’s high pitched moans.

“Ahh,” you said, peeling off your jacket. “I see you started early but please don’t stop now that I've walked in. The fun is about to begin, babies.”

Danneel slipped up and down on Jensen’s cock, then turned to face you, hands braced on Jensen’s chest. “There’s my beautiful girl.” She whispered, bouncing up and down on Jensen.

“You know what else is beautiful?” You said, pulling off your dress and sinking to your knees in front of the bed. “The sight of you two but I prefer when my tongue is buried in your pussy.”

Danneel squealed and you nibbled on her clit before sticking your tongue through her silky, supple folds, you groaned when your tongue hit Jensen’s long, thick and veiny cock. You couldn’t wait until you had him in your mouth or made him fuck you until you saw stars. But right now, you were going to eat Danneel’s pussy and look forward to the screams you were going to pull from her with Jensen fucking her.

Jensen grunts as he feels you cup him, his balls heavy in your hand as you play with his sack. “Are you gonna come, Jay?” You hummed, fingers of your free hand gripping on to his thigh before reaching for Danneel’s clit. You wanted her to cover your face with her juices, wanted to drink down her sweet essence. You wanted to get high on their scents as they came together.

You bury your face further into her pussy, her taste driving you insane, getting drunk on her and the way she reacted to you and to Jensen.

“Go on, pretty girl. Let go, come for me.” 

You hummed at the taste of both of them on your tongue, smiling at them when you swallow their combined come. Swiping your finger through her pussy, you watch as her body convulses, still sensitive from the fucking she just received.

I would say I outdid myself, but I’m always this good. So I simply did myself. You thought, keeping it to yourself as you thought it may sound a bit too cocky. It probably wouldn’t sound right if you said it out loud either.

“You did so good, Dee.” You murmured, fingers running over the soft flesh of her thighs. “Think you can take more? Be a good girl just for me.”

Danneel’s eyes finally made contact with yours, coming forward from the back of her skull. They wouldn’t be seeing much soon, you would make sure of that until you were finished with her and knew she couldn’t go on any longer.

“Sit behind her, Jay. Make sure she doesn’t wiggle around.” You say, leaving the room to head into another one. Drawers rummaged through, you return with a smirk on your face and a hand occupied by a few toys, a flog and a blindfold being one of them. You throw the blindfold to Jensen, silently asking him to put it over Danneel’s eyes, he nods his understanding.

Moments later, Danneel was blindfolded, Jensen’s legs draped over her own to stop her from moving, his legs spreading further at your middle and forefinger gesture.

Smirking briefly, you pull your bottom lip into your teeth and watch the two of them for a few moments. The intimacy between them was disgustingly beautiful; you let them have this moment whilst he fondled her breasts and pressed a trail of kisses up her neck.

You decide that they have had enough time to play around, you were being nice by giving them that moment considering that they both started without you. She whimpered when the cold strips of leather scattered over her skin, dragging from her chest down her abdomen to her still soaking wet pussy. She tried to close her legs - as you knew she would - but Jensen’s thick thighs stopped her from moving an inch underneath him.

You hummed in delight, and with a flick of your wrist, the flog came down harder this time around, making Danneel wince but cough out a small laugh that she tried to mask as a cough. You punish her with another smack across her torso followed by one more to her pussy.

“Let us hear you, pretty girl.”

“Can you do it again?”

“Oh, baby, we can go all night if you want to. You know what to say if it gets too much right?”

“Mountain.”

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Walking through the darkness quietly, you stumble over one of Dean’s boots at the entrance. Cursing at it, it gets nudged away from the tip of your boot. “Messy man.”

You tumble again. This time, over a smaller boot. “Messy boy.”

Making sure you don’t trip over anything else on the way to the kitchen, you open the fridge. The light blinds you for a moment, having you blindly grab a bottle of your favourite drink.

Once the fridge door is closed and your body is turned, you jolt back against the fridge when you see your son holding a gun that’s aimed at you. “What are you doing, Benny? You know you can’t have anything dangerous.” You grab the weapon out of his hand.

The four year old looks down at his tiny feet as you look at the time on the microwave; 2:37am.

Big footsteps come down the stairs of your house, bringing them into the kitchen. Dean has his gun raised at you. “Can you put the fucking gun down? Or do I have to fight for it again?” You ask with a stern voice, feeling Benny pat at your leg. You lift him up and sit him on your hip, his face pressed against the side of your neck.

“Well, pardon me, young man, excuse the shit out of my goddamn French, but did you just threaten me?” Dean then lowers his gun once he saw his husband and son.

“Daddies said bad words.” Benny moves his head to look at Dean. 

Dean puts his and yours guns on the counter before he places his hand on the back of Benny’s head. “Sorry, son.”

“Baby boy, why did you have daddy’s gun?” you ask, moving him up a bit on your body. “I wanted to be like you and daddy.” Benny fiddles with a loose thread on your shirt, not wanting to look at you or Dean.

“But we took care of the monsters, baby. You don't need the gun when you’re older.” You nudge his head with your nose, making him glance at you. “I love you.” you say softly.

Benny’s hands cover each of your cheeks. “I love you, too.” He says back. “Can we have some burgers?”

You look over at your husband, who’s in awe at you and your son. “Daddy!” Dean’s out of his own little world and blinks at his baby boy. “Burgers, please.” Benny pats Dean’s chest, wanting him to make his special burgers.

“Why do you want burgers now?”

“Because I’m a hungry boy like you are, daddy.”

“Oh, really?” A nod is Dean’s answer. “Well, then,” he grabs the boy out of your arms, “I’ll let you help me when daddy goes and get changed.”

With words that had been force fed and then practiced, he ripped out your heart and crushed it bloody with his fingers. But his wolf would not have it, he saw you in distress and wanted nothing more than to ease your pain. He slipped.

When his face buried into your neck, his breath hot on your sensitive skin, you shuddered against him, eyes rolling to the ceiling.  Suddenly your growl was less directed at him than it was at yourself for reveling in the feel of him against you.

“You can’t do this!” Using your forearms and elbows, you shoved him back, yelling at him; “You can’t say you’re going to marry her and then try to fuck me, Dean. What is your problem?”

He stumbled back a step, horror washing over him a moment before he was snarling and snapping at you the next.

“You are my problem. You are the bad habit I can’t drop. The toxic drug that will destroy me and the future of my pack.”

It was all bullshit, but he had to say it. He had to keep himself from doing what he so desperately wanted, to lose himself in the feel of you, in the sounds of your pleasure and the scent of your sex. He wanted you, all of you, but there was more at stake here than what would make him happy.

If you were thinking clearly, you would have recognized his confliction. But on top of fighting his advances and your own crumbling will, you were trying to hold back the hot tears stinging behind your eyes, to keep a breaking heart from completely falling apart. It felt like he wanted to hurt you. And so, you wanted to hurt him back.

“It’s not my fault she can’t make you hard like I do.”

“Yeah, you do make me hard,” he said, his voice quaking with emotion. “But she makes me weak.”

Words delivered coldly to perfectly shatter your wounded, bleeding heart. The tears dotted your vision and your anger gushed freely.

“Go to her then, you sonofabitch,” you spat in his face. “Go to your precious Omega, who is clean and good and doesn’t have a drop of blood on her perfect hands-”

There was a loud crash, a lamp thrown to the floor and his mouth was over yours, viciously stealing the very words from your tongue before you could finish. Your hip banged against the nightstand knocking the phone to the carpet as he pressed into you. Your mouth readily opened to his, tongue sliding along his to enter his mouth and take your words back.

Your leg hooked around his hip so that the bulge in his pants slotted nicely between your legs. Dean growled into your mouth at the friction. Your fingernails dragged up his shoulder blades, deep enough to pierce skin as he pushed you further over the nightstand.

His hands cupped your ass and suddenly you were thrown backwards to land sprawled across the bed. He was over you, his hot mouth on yours, hands roaming and groping you.

Digging your feet into the edge of the mattress, you rolled him over so you could straddle him at the waist. Falling forward, you clamped onto his wrists, holding them down on either side of his head, your faces mere centimeters apart.

The beauty of his face drew you in as it always had, with the smattering of freckles across his slightly bent nose, with the smooth planes of his perfect pink lips, and the gold flecks in his forest green eyes. And the way he stared up at you; like you were the only one in the world. Like you were his, like he was yours.

Your breasts brushed his chest as the two of you panted each other’s air. The weight of your actions came crashing down over you. Your face crumpled, but before you could outright cry, you pulled away and rolled off of him. You grabbed your jacket and stormed out, slamming the door so that the walls shook.

Dean stayed flat on the bed, his pulse drumming in his ears, unable to get the image of your face, broken and wretched, out of his mind.

The wedding was the event of the winter season, Winchester wolves were riding into town in droves. They filled up restaurants, motels and dive bars, their Omegas crowding everything else. You kept a low profile, avoiding the haunts you knew Dean would be, the coffee shops Sam stopped by on his morning runs.

You even kept your distance from anyone who knew of your relationship with Dean. Everyone knew the importance of the alliance with the Northern pack and you weren’t about to put them in a position of choosing sides.

The only person you could talk to was Ellie, a ranch hand for the Cassity family on the outskirts of town, and another Beta. She listened to your tale while halfway under a work truck, changing out the oil.

“What about the wedding?” Her voice drifted up to where you sat in the driver’s seat.

“What about it?”

She huffed and pushed a bucket full of drained oil out from under the truck “The whole town is going, will you?”

You had been in denial that the wedding was ever going to happen, leaving you without a plan as the day fast approached.

“Maybe I’ll ask Jody to put me on border patrol. She’ll have to be strapped for volunteers that day.”

After a moment, Ellie pushed out from underneath the truck and fixed her dark eyes upon you. Black oil smeared her cheek, a coat of dirt dusted her face and the front of her coveralls.

“How many years have you been with the Winchesters?”

You crossed your arms tight around yourself and shrugged. “It’s not like I was raised within the family.”

Suddenly Ellie was hugging you, wrapping you in her arms and pressing her face down into your shoulder. You were struck silent by the embrace, until you realized your vision had become blurry, your face wet with tears.

“For someone as smart as he is, Dean really is stupid,” she murmured into your shoulder. “Everyone knows you don’t marry someone you can live with; you marry the person you cannot live without.”

Your breath shook so terribly, you did not trust yourself to respond. But you knew that no matter how hard it would be, you could live without Dean Winchester in your life. And clearly, he could live without you in his.

It was the morning of the wedding and Dean could not look himself in the mirror. His mother, Mary, sat silently in the corner, watching as he struggled with the tie at his neck. Both listened as Sam went over a list of meetings that would need to take place before the ceremony. Their father, John, was already seated in a brunch with both the bride’s parents.

Dean’s eyes flicked towards his mother, before dropping to the floor as he untied the knot at his neck again.

“Shouldn’t you be there with him?” He asked.

Mary’s gaze was steady as she answered, “I’m where I need to be.”

“Right,” Dean said with a sharp smile before turning away. “God forbid I have even a second to myself.”

“To do what?” She pushed.

Sensing the sharp rise of tension in the room, Sam’s gaze flicked between the two. Mary Winchester was not the typical Omega. There was a steel confidence to her, bred from being raised in a pack of Betas who always treated her as an equal and not as a commodity as most Omegas were treated throughout their lives. It was this confidence that drew John to her and had her so easily accepted in the pack. It was this confidence that shaped Dean and Sam to be respected Alphas who treated everyone fair regardless of rank.

It was what unsettled Dean the most about his current predicament.

“Sam,” Dean said to his brother. It was all the order Sam needed to excuse himself from the room. Once the door clicked shut, Dean pulled the tie completely from his neck and wrapped it tightly around one hand. “I’m going to say something, and I need you to understand that this is something I have thought about for a while. I’m not just throwing this out there to be difficult.”

Mary’s heeled feet slid as one underneath her chair, her back straightened. It was all the clearance she was going to give him to speak. Dean paced across the room, his face tilting upwards as if searching for the right words before he reached the wall and slowly turned back to her.

“You know what I gave up for this,” he started, green eyes searching his mother’s blue. “You know who.”

The tiny furrow appeared between her eyebrows, the disappointment Dean had always tried to avoid since he was a kid.

“This is about the Beta.”

“This is about Y/N,” Dean corrected with heat to his voice. “You have known her for five years, are you really not going to say her name?”

“Get to the point, Dean.”

He bristled at the dismissal but checked his anger. The only hope he had of doing this, would be with his mother’s support.

“I love her,” he said. “I love her and want her in my life as my partner, my mate, my wife. I thought I could do this. I thought I could be your good little soldier and give myself, my life to the future of this pack. Hell, sometimes I even think I want to. But not like this. Not by breaking her heart.”

When Mary said nothing, Dean stepped forward with a small spark of hope that he was reaching her, the Mary raised by Betas, his mother who used to play with him as a child, laugh with her sons, and fought tooth and nail for their happiness and success.

“I did what I had to, said what I had to, to make sure she would run away. But that was wrong. Mom, we were wrong. Because she is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He stopped right in front of Mary, his bottom lip catching under his teeth as he shook his head. “I won’t be half the leader I could be, without her at my side.”

Mary’s blue eyes glistened as she stared up at her son, her frown kept carefully in place.

“Mom, please.”

At that her lips parted, and breath escaped as if she had been struck. The future of the pack and her son’s happiness were firmly placed within her hands.

Darkness had fallen by the time you made your way back to the guard post by the road. The frosty air bit at your cheeks and watered your eyes while sweat drenched your undershirt and socks. You had stayed out in the wilderness all day, away from the radio and news of the newly wedded Winchesters. When the fireworks popped and exploded across the inky black sky, you knew the ceremony was concluded with the reception well underway.

As you unlocked the door to the small building, the wind pushed at the hood of your jacket, chilling the back of your sweat-slicked neck so that your movements became hurried. Flicking the lights on, you pressed the messages on the office phone to play, then began to unbutton your coat and coveralls.

Some messages you knew you could leave for the night shift to handle, but when Toby’s voice came through saying another shipment meant for the Cassity ranch had been delivered to the Cassidy farm a town over, you rolled your eyes and picked up the receiver.

As the line rang in your ear, your peripheral caught a figure moving through the darkness outside the window. Dropping the receiver back into its cradle, you slipped your arms back into the sleeves of your coveralls and reached for the shotgun under the desk, but your wolf told you to stop. Confused at the order, your eyes went to the door as if trying to sense who or what was on the other side.

On the other side of the door, Dean stood in the cold with his hand caught between going for the knob and knocking. His hot breath drifted in wisps through the air. He could sense your hesitation, your confusion and it scared him. Because he had pushed you so far, hurt you to the point you could not fathom that he would be the one to come see you.

Right when he began to reconsider his approach, the door swung open, the yellow light washing over him. His heart stuttered in his chest at the sight of you, coveralls unzipped down the middle to reveal the white sweater and blue jeans underneath, your eyes wide in both confusion and disbelief.

He wanted to hold you, wrap his cold hands around your warm waist, bury his face in the scent of your neck and kiss your lips raw. He wanted to apologize and say that there was no one else. There could never be anyone else, Alpha, Omega, or Beta. But soon, the surprise disappeared from your face. Sadness tugged at the corners of your mouth and your eyes dropped from his to look anywhere but at him.

And that hurt.

He was still dressed in the white buttoned shirt, with the black jacket and a black peacoat that framed him beautifully. Yes, brides were beautiful and the center of weddings, but Dean was dressed to be the real star of the night, and it killed you the longer you stared at him.

“What are you doing here?” You forced yourself to ask.

“Do you hate me?”

Your chest ached at the sound of his voice, deep with a hint of fear, but his words somehow hurt more. Your eyes, already made sensitive by the cold, easily watered, and clouded your vision as heat rushed to your face.

“No,” you said with a wobbling voice. “No, I don’t hate you.”

At your admission, Dean took an audible breath in, as if you had just removed a great weight from his shoulders.

“Do you still love me?” Your mouth fell open and you moved to close the door. But Dean kept it open with a hand, his face crumbling in anguish as he moved inside. You tried to back away, the tears falling freely now. When Dean spoke, he was breathless, as if his own heart were on the precipice of shattering. “Wait, please, please. Y/N…”

He stepped into your space to gently close the door behind him, you forced your gaze away from his. But just as he yearned to touch you, you wished you could fall against him.

“Y/N, just tell me. If you don’t love me, I will walk out of here and leave you alone forever.” At your silence, he dared to lift his fingers to your temple in a ghost of a caress. “But if you still love me, if you still want me…”

Tentatively, your face lifted to his, your eyes meeting his glassy green. Your eyebrows twitched to the center as you tried to reach through your hurt for his meaning.

“Dean,” you whispered. “You’re married, what…”

The facial changes were minimal, but they transformed everything so that you could tell he was holding something back.

“No, I’m not,” he said. “I couldn’t go through with it. I was trying to do the right thing for the pack, for my parents, but in doing that I hurt the one person who mattered the most. Because you see, I still love you. I still want you. I always have, sweetheart, and I have been such an idiot. I…”

He dropped his head back in a vain attempt to hold back his tears. His tongue dragged over his bottom lip and when he looked back down at you, there was only one thing he felt he could say.

“I don’t deserve you. I never did. But there is no one else on this earth that I would rather spend the rest of my days with. You are who I want to make smile. You are who I want to adore and spoil and raise a litter of kids with. You make me hard, you make me weak, you make me the best man I never dreamed I ever could be. So please, just tell me if you still lo-”

“-I do,” the words left your mouth, cutting him off and taking you both by surprise. Heart thundering in your chest, you leaned towards him. “Of course, I still love you, you asshole.”

He could barely hope to laugh, but his smile was watery and brilliant. Hesitantly, his hands ran down either side of your arms, stopping to cup your elbows. He could smell the fragrance of dogwood trees on your collar, your own natural perfume kept just beneath the layer of coveralls.

Your hands lifted to his forearms, momentarily marveling at the warmth of his peacoat. Then, you remembered the fireworks that called you back to the post.

“If you didn’t marry her,” you spoke in a hush as he had leaned in significantly closer. “Then what were the fireworks for?”

He did his best to hold it back, but he winced.

“Sam may have stepped in to uphold the alliance.”

“He, what?!” Before you could lay into Dean all the reasons that was a bad idea, all of course stemming from you believing the happiness of others was more important than your own, he pulled you in the rest of the way and kissed you.

This was far from over, but for the night, you were content to be wrapped in the arms of the man you loved, kissing him silly.

"You know, we could fly and be there in less than half the time," he remarked as he stowed his duffel in the trunk of the Impala on the morning of their second day on the road.

"Or," Dean replied before he slammed the trunk shut on their luggage and the arsenal hidden underneath, "we could not fly and not worry about getting half our gear through security."

Fair point.

"We'd make better progress on literally any major highway," he argued hours later as they moved along some podunk back road lined on either side with fields and one-traffic-light towns.

"I make better progress when I'm not staring at the same set of tail lights for hours on end," Dean argued back.

Fine, so maybe the scenery was a little better than what the interstate offered...sometimes. It still ate up more of his existence than he cared for. It was insulting, really, to go from teleporting from one side of the globe to the other, to needing to stop and gas up before crossing certain states only to pull over for the night halfway through the journey.

"Would it really kill you to get on a plane once in a while?" he asked after their journey finally saw them parking outside a high-rise in a reasonably sized city. Their first interview was with a wealthy heiress whose father robbed his own bank two days after he dropped dead of a heart attack, and according to the address in Dean's hand, she lived on the top floor.

"I don't trust planes," Dean groused. "I trust my Baby, and she's never let me down."

"Trains, then? Something, Dean. Think of it. Time, efficiency, fossil fuel and emissions, save even more than the innocent public."

"Don't listen to him, sweetheart," Dean said over his shoulder as they walked away from the car. "He's just cranky that he can't pick the music."

"Well, while we're on the subject…" Crowley muttered.

"If I'm going anywhere," Dean insisted, "my Baby is taking me. And no commentary from the peanut gallery about going faster is going to convince me otherwise."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Fine, then. When we're done with this case, I'm taking a cab to the airport."

"You know what? You do that. You enjoy the delays, and the crowded terminals, and the bad food, and the kids that keep kicking your seat or the lady in front of you reclining back into your personal space or the guy snoring and farting next to you, and Baby and I are going to enjoy the open road, just the two of us. And you know what?"

Crowley turned to Dean, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Dean drew out the answer far longer than was necessary, clearly relishing the fantasy in his head. "I'm...going...to love it."

"Honestly, Dean, I worry you'd love it too much," Crowley replied. "And rather than tag along as a third wheel, I'd rather fly home and leave the two of you to your…" He paused for consideration, then finished. "Fascinating affair."

Dean's brow furrowed for a moment, then he rolled his eyes with a grimace. "You know, I'm not even gonna ask…"

Crowley smiled and they entered the building. It was everything he expected it to be on the inside: sleek and pretentious without an iota of elegance.

"I suppose you want to take the stairs," he remarked as they crossed the lobby, "given your commitment to the path slowest traveled by."

"Actually…" Dean thought it over, then gave a pleasant smile. "We should take the elevator. Why go slower than we have to every time?"

Crowley raised his eyebrows in surprised amusement. "Oh, indeed? Without the slightest fuss? I didn't expect such character development." They reached the elevator and he signaled it, then stepped inside the car and stood aside to let Dean on.

Dean made to follow as Crowley hit the button for the top floor, then ducked back out. Crowley did a double take, then started forward. "Dean! What the hell are you--"

"Race you to the top, smart ass," Dean replied with a sly grin as the door slid closed and the elevator began to move.

Crowley threw his hands in the air, exasperated, then leaned back against the wall of the car. What, was he going to take another elevator?

Bloody Winchesters.

A soft ding sounded and the car shuddered to a halt, called to a stop on the second floor. The door opened and he stood aside to let the newcomer in, but the hallway revealed itself to be empty. Crowley glanced out just in case, and there was no sign of anyone at all.

The door slid shut again and the sudden motion of the car nearly threw him off balance as it resumed its journey up, but he recovered and returned to his place against the wall. He should have known by now that taking shots at Dean's precious car was a surefire way to ruffle his feathers, but was Crowley to blame if Squirrel made the business of feather ruffling so bloody easy? And was it too much to ask that they shave some time off their commute once in a while? He was prepared to argue his case again, but that damned fool had jumped ship at the last possible moment.

He snapped out of his reverie as the elevator stopped again. He heaved a sigh and let his head fall back against the wall and the door opened, but there was no sound of anyone getting into the car. He lifted his head and frowned slightly, in search of whoever called the elevator, but there was only silence.

His eyes narrowed and the elevator began to move. A glance at the readout above the door told him he was on the third floor out of fifteen, and he would already be nearly to the top if it wasn't for--

The elevator stopped at the fourth floor. 

"Oh, for the love of--" He broke off with a huff of annoyance, folded his arms, and tapped his foot. A sneaking suspicion introduced itself in his mind, and it was a stupid, childish, ridiculous idea, but so very Dean…

When the elevator stopped at five, he leaned out far enough to listen, but there was no sign of the bowlegged menace. At six, he could almost hear retreating footsteps in the distance. At seven, he distinctly made out labored breathing and heavy footfalls, and it became more and more obvious. Dean was running the stairs and calling the elevator on every floor.

At the ninth floor, he leaned against the wall beside the call button and bent nearly double as he gasped for breath by the time the elevator stopped. Crowley slid his hands into his pockets and raised an eyebrow at him. "Can I give you a lift?"

Dean didn't seem to have the air to answer.

"I don't know how long it's been since you ran stairs, Squirrel, but if you pass out halfway to this interview, I'm going to leave you here and talk to Little Miss Heiress on my own, then maybe pick you up on the way back down."

A dismissive wave was the only reply.

Crowley put out a hand to hold the door open. "Dean," he said sharply, "get in the bloody lift."

Dean rolled his eyes, but got onto the elevator.

"Stubborn arse," Crowley muttered. They made the rest of the trip to the top floor uninterrupted, leaving precious little time for Dean to catch his breath and plenty of time for Crowley to roll his eyes and shake his head at the absurdity of it all. They paused outside the heiress' door and Crowley smoothed his hands over the wrinkles in Dean's jacket, straightened his tie, and gave him a pat on the cheek. "Given the varying states you continually put yourself in, you clean up rather nicely," he remarked. "Have I ever told you that?"

Dean blushed slightly and knocked on the door.

"It's remarkable, you know," Crowley said as they left a quarter hour later. "You ran nine flights of stairs and winded yourself so severely you nearly lost consciousness, but you didn't even break a sweat."

"I don't sweat under any circumstances," Dean scoffed as he called the elevator.

"Is that so?" The elevator arrived and they stepped on, and Crowley added, "I seem to recall you were a bit hot under the collar a few nights ago when, in quite the role reversal, I wasn't moving fast enough for you." He glanced sideways just in time to see Dean shift awkwardly and swallow hard, and he grinned to himself. "How long did I keep you on the hook? I'm afraid I lost track of time, I was so entranced by the way you whimpered, squirmed, and begged--"

"I don't beg, either," Dean cut in gruffly.

"Not in so many words, darling, but trust me, there wasn't a single, glorious inch of you that wasn't desperate for that sweet release I just wouldn't let you have. From the way your toes curled, to the tension in every muscle, to the twitch and throb of your swollen, needy, much-abused co--"

Dean grabbed him by his lapels and forced him back against the wall. He leaned in until there was only a scant inch between their faces, and Crowley could smell the morning's coffee on his breath. "You know, you've been running your mouth an awful lot the last few days," he said, low and serious, "and I'm getting kinda tired of it."

Crowley looked from those plump, perfect lips to those Disney princess eyes, and down to the fists clutching his jacket. "And manhandling me in a lift is your solution? Come on, Dean, you know I'll enjoy it too much."

"Not hardly," Dean replied. "I'm thinking we should finish this hunt, get you somewhere I can go as slow as I damn well please, and we see how long it takes until you're begging for it."

Crowley smiled. "Well. You certainly know how to get a girl's attention, don't you. But you forgot one thing."

"Yeah? What's that?"

Peeling open an eyelid, you groan—the diffused light is too bright, the soft rustle of sheets is too loud, the sweet smell of cinnamon is too strong. As your eyelid snaps closed, you catch sight of dark wooden beams against a pale gray backdrop.

Before you have time to process the image, a sound like a freight train fills your ears, and you turn your head to see Dean roll onto his side with a loud grunting snore. The small movement makes you whine, every cell in your body crying out in agony.

What the hell happened to me? Why the hell is Dean in my bed? And just where the hell is that cinnamon smell coming from?

The floor to ceiling glass wall you are now staring through beyond the curve of his shoulder takes your breath away. The view of the setting sun and a private balcony pool surrounded by lush tropical plants does nothing to soothe the anxiety beginning to grow inside you.

Where the hell are we?

You’re afraid to move, but need to use the bathroom, so you carefully roll to the side and let your legs fall off the edge of the mattress, then push yourself upright, a small sob escaping with every flex of muscle. As soon as you stand up, your legs give way beneath you, and you land on the lush carpet with a thud. The soft fibers feel like tiny little bugs crawling over your skin; you shudder and beseech the universe to kill you now. As you lie there contemplating the life choices that led you here, a soft rush of cool air causes your skin to pebble as the air conditioning kicks on, bringing along the realization that you’re wearing nothing but your underwear.

Seriously, what the fuck happened?

With a soft groan, you extend your arm and grip the bedding, using it to pull yourself up slowly. You peer at Dean’s shirtless back over the edge of the mattress, leaving you with the assumption that he is either sleeping in his boxers or is naked. Either way, it’s not good. Eyes darting around the room, you find a trail of your and Dean’s clothes leading from the door to the bed.

The hammering in your head increases as your heart pounds against your ribcage. Having sex with Dean was something you swore to yourself would never happen. One, he’s your best friend, and B, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t become another name in the long list of women he’d slept with. You love the man dearly but are well aware of his reluctance of settling down with anyone for fear of putting them in harm’s way. You’re also quite aware of the consequences of pursuing anything further than the close friendship you currently enjoyed; it would lead to nothing but heartbreak.

Damn, this is bad.

You rest your forehead on the mattress and silently pray that your assumption is wrong. Moments later, it feels like some alien creature is literally trying to claw its way out of your abdomen, and you stumble to the bathroom just in time to empty the entire contents of your stomach into the toilet.

Tears seep from your eyes when the dry heaves set in; you’d gladly suffer the pain of torture at a demon’s hand to be rid of this hangover. The cool tile helps to diminish the heat of your flushed skin as you lie on the floor after your body finally stops retching. The smell of cinnamon drifts past your nose again, and you realize that it’s coming from an automatic room freshener.

Several minutes later, you roll to your back, and when the room, thankfully, remains still, you carefully sit up. Eventually, you manipulate your aching body to stand in front of the vanity, squinting at your reflection as you lean against the sink. Tiny black flecks of mascara speckle the dark circles under your eyes; your hair is plastered to your head on the left side and sticking up in every direction possible on the right. Smacking your dry lips together and gagging at the taste on your tongue, you reach for the small bottle of complimentary mouthwash and rinse out your mouth.

The fluffy, grey washcloth is soft to the touch when you pull it from the rack to wet it under the hot water. Covering your face with the cloth, you tilt your head back, quickly gripping the sink’s edge when vertigo sets in. Once the dizziness passes, you slide the cloth down your face and catch a bright flash in the reflection from the mirror. Cleaning the gunk and remaining makeup from around your eyes, you drop the cloth to the counter and gape at the peridot and diamond-encrusted silver band encircling the ring finger of your left hand. The sound that fills the air seconds later is almost inhuman.

Holymotherfuckingsonofabitch! No, no, no… is this… Damn, it’s gorgeous! Okay, nope, focus!

Yanking one of the robes from a hook on the wall, you slip your arms through the sleeves as you rush back into the bedroom. Now lying on his stomach, Dean is no longer snoring but is still sound asleep; the sheet has slipped down his body with his movements.

You’d always found his broad shoulders with their dusting of freckles captivating and openly admired them whenever you had the rare opportunity; this time was no different. Taking a calming breath, you stare at the beautiful speckles dotting his smooth pale skin, following the valley of his spine to the tight shapely curve of his cloth-covered ass.

Oh! He’s still in his boxers. That’s a good sign, right?

With a relieved sigh, you pull your eyes away from him and take a look around the room that appears to be more of a large suite. It’s quite stunning—pale grey walls trimmed in dark wood, exposed-beam ceiling, expensive-looking artwork, furniture covered in deep burgundy leather and plush fabric—there’s even a poker table that seats six. A ginormous stuffed turtle stares back at you from its perch on one of the barstools across the room. Its existence presents yet another mystery to solve. Any other time, you would take the opportunity to bask in the luxury surrounding you, but right now, you’re more concerned with how you got here and why you were practically naked in bed with Dean and wearing what appears to be a wedding ring.

Walking through the space, you begin to gather up the articles of clothing that had apparently been stripped off as the two of you had made your way into the room and find a piece of paper lying beneath Dean’s flannel. You stoop to retrieve it, and a loud gasp escapes you as you turn it over and read ‘State of Nevada Marriage Certificate’ across the top. The clothes slip from your grasp when your eyes land on the signatures, one in your fluid cursive and the other in Dean’s neat print above your typed names… your real names.

Son of a bitch!

Shaking uncontrollably, you plop down on top of the clothes you’d abandoned. Your fingers timorously graze the document, hoping it’s just an illusion that will vanish under your touch. The pads of your fingers trace the raised lettering of the official seal, and your heart drops to your stomach as your brain kicks into overdrive. It was official; you and Dean were married—married. Legally, too; you had both used your real names and had an official marriage certificate. When the hell you had managed to get that, you had no idea. You didn’t even remember getting married.

Where the hell was Sam while all this happened? Why didn’t he stop us?

Swiftly standing, you brace a hand against the wall as a wave of dizziness hits you. A couple of deep breaths later, you search for your phone only to find that the battery had died. Dean’s had, too, since you hadn’t returned to your rooms in what was almost 24 hours now.

Not ready to face Dean just yet, you leave him to continue sleeping as you slip out onto the balcony. You sit at the pool’s edge and dangle your feet in the warm water, the open robe hanging loosely on your shoulders. Small waves ripple across the water’s surface as you gently kick your legs and let your mind drift to try to piece together the events that led to this trainwreck.

With no forthcoming cases or looming apocalypses, Dean had declared that it was the perfect time for the annual Winchester brother’s road trip to Vegas, and this time, they invited you to come along for the ride. To say that you were excited was a gross understatement. In the five years you’d known them, they’d never invited you. Dean was the one that insisted that you join them for this trip, which was a bit strange, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was only about an eight-hour drive from Grand Junction, CO, where you all had just taken down a pack of werewolves. You’d left the next morning and had arrived in Vegas around six-thirty that night. Dean had made sure that you had a separate room when checking into one of the older, less expensive casino hotels on the outskirts of town. His behavior once again struck you as odd when you had argued that there was no need for the extra expense, that the money spent on the additional room could be used for gambling. He was adamant, though, so you had finally conceded, secretly happy to have some privacy for once.

Dean found a safe spot to leave Baby—an empty corner of the parking lot—and Sam made arrangements for an Uber to pick you up in an hour. After taking a shower and changing into the dress clothes you always packed—just in case—you met the boys outside your room where your ride was already waiting. Both boys stood by the curb in fresh clothes and with damp hair, freshly showered. Dean’s hair was still spiky from towel-drying it, and he was wearing one of your favorite shirts, the black and white plaid. He’d left the top two buttons undone, and you caught a glimpse of his tattoo as he moved to open the car door for you. He was stunning. Just the sight of him kicked your pulse up a couple of notches, and you quickly turned toward the car before he could notice your ogling.

The driver had dropped the three of you off on Fremont Street. Both Dean and Sam made a beeline for the Paradise Buffet & Café while you trailed behind, taking in the neon spectacle of the Fremont Street Experience. It had been years since you’d been to Vegas, and a lot had changed.

A few minutes later, you’d caught up with the brothers, having decided it was probably best to eat something before all the drinking began. An hour later, you and Sam left Dean to finish his fourth round at the buffet, stopping to take a few pictures before starting your Vegas adventure at Binion’s Gambling Hall.

Your little trio had spent the next three hours or so hitting most of the casinos on Fremont Street. The winnings between all of you had remained relatively modest, as most of the big gambling was saved for The Strip. When you eventually made it to Caesars Palace, Dean abandoned you and Sam to take up residence at one of the poker tables.

Sam wasn’t as keen on gambling as Dean, so the two of you had wandered around the casino just taking in your surroundings and enjoying the free drinks—you played a couple of rounds of Keno, and Sam tried his hand at Baccarat. When he found a set of available slot machines next to each other, he asked if you wanted to sit down for a while, and you gratefully accepted, the shoes you’d chosen to wear already beginning to cause you pain.

Although you should be used to it by now, the juxtaposition in energy when you’d spend one-on-one time with either brother still managed to surprise you. With Dean, there always seemed to be an underlying current of electricity, a raw energy much like the crackling air before lightning strikes. Sam, however, was the calm before the storm; he was a constant, soothing presence. Even amidst the noise of whirring machines and clanging bells, the two of you sat quietly next to each other, peacefully pulling the handles of your slot machines. That was until Sam broke the companionable silence with a surprising question.

“Have you ever thought about getting out of the life, maybe settling down?”

Your hand stilled mid-pull as you cocked your head in his direction. Convinced that the amount of alcohol you had consumed had skewed your hearing, you ask, “Sam, did you just ask me if I want to get married?”

The look of utter panic on Sam’s face had you leaning to the side with laughter, and he’d gently gripped your arm to keep you from sliding off the chair. “I- I didn’t mean to me,” he’d sputtered. “I just meant, in general.” He let go of your arm after making sure you weren’t going to fall out of the chair.

Pushing out your bottom lip, you’d pouted, “What? I’m not good enough for Sam fucking Winchester to marry?”

The look he’d given you almost rivaled the bitchface he generally reserved for Dean. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

You playfully punched him in the shoulder and laughed, “I was only teasing, you big lug.”

He rolled his shoulders and let out an exasperated sigh. When he fell silent again, you snuck a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He seemed to be debating whether to say anything further, but he remained silent and went back to playing slots.

The atmosphere around the two of you felt awkward, so you decided to break the silence. “Hey, is there a reason you asked me that? Are you thinking about it? Have you met someone I don’t know about?”

He brushed his hair behind his ear and turned to you. “No. I think maybe I’ve had a little too much to drink and was just curious.”

You knew Sam well enough to know that he had a reason for asking you but apparently didn’t want to share any details at the time.

“Yeah, I have.” You shrugged when he looked at you in surprise. “I don’t think I could ever leave the life completely, but yeah, it would be nice to settle down one day.”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a small smirk, before turning back to the machine in front of him. Everything had seemingly gone back to normal as you sat in comfortable silence once more, teasing each other now and then. It was all very odd, but you figured it was like Sam had said, the alcohol made the two of you feel a little looser, maybe a bit more sentimental.

Sam had bowed out and gone back to the hotel about half an hour later—around 3 a.m.—having won a few hundred dollars at the slot machine.

That was the cause of this runaway train… Sam had left you and Dean to your own devices. And nothing good happens past 2 a.m.

You were feeling rather tipsy at that point and knew it wouldn’t be any fun gambling alone, so you’d set out in search of Dean. He tried to brush you off at first, but once he’d lost his third hand in a row, you were able to convince him to join you.

Much to his dismay, you dragged him to the roulette table. He argued that there was no skill needed to play the game and that you would surely lose everything you bet and then some. You, however, liked the thrill of leaving it all up to luck, merely choosing a color and number. When your winnings had reached a little over two hundred and fifty grand, he profusely apologized, pulling you in for a tight hug and a lingering kiss to your cheek.

That was the first sign of real danger… that kiss. You could still feel the sensation of those soft, supple lips on your cheek.

Trying to hide your reaction to his display of affection, you had laughed and told him that he must be your good luck charm. He agreed and placed a kiss near your temple, lingering a little longer than necessary there, too. Flustered and not sure what to do next, you decided to take your winnings and move on.

Dean wanted to head back to the poker tables, but you talked him into playing Blackjack, where he racked up an impressive sum of two hundred and forty-five grand. When you begged him to leave, telling him you had a gut feeling that the next hand wasn’t going to play out in his favor, he had laughed, saying that you just didn’t want him to beat your winnings, but he lowered his wager for the next round, which he’d lost.

He’d turned to face you and, upon seeing your smug expression, had doubled over in laughter, almost falling out of his chair. Lacing the fingers of both his hands with yours, he’d pulled you in between his thick thighs and whispered in your ear, “Guess we are each other’s good luck charms.”

You remember thinking that his voice had been deep and flirty, the voice he used when trying to pick up some random girl in a bar. You were reasonably drunk at that point, and you’d felt overwhelmed with emotion; you’d turned your head, the scruff on his jaw gently scraping along your cheekbone, and placed a kiss on his cheek. When he’d asked what that was for, you’d said it was a thank you for letting you come along.

His breath was hot against your skin and smelled pleasantly of the expensive whiskey he’d been drinking when he’d rasped, “Let’s get out of here.”

And that was when the train derailed. It was also the last thing you clearly remembered other than Dean and you signing the necessary paperwork for your winnings, only taking a few thousand in cash. Sometime after that, the train had apparently flown entirely off the track and promptly down a steep embankment.

“Hair of the dog?” Dean asks as he comes to stand next to you. Deep in thought, you hadn’t heard him open the sliding doors. When you turn your head to look up at him, you come face to crotch with an impressive bulge.

Quickly dropping your chin, you huff, “For fuck’s sake, Dean; you could have at least put on a robe.” At the mention of a robe, you realize that the one you’re wearing isn’t covering much and quickly gather the fabric around you and tie the belt to keep it in place.

Dean laughs as he plops down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his. “Not anything either one of us hasn’t seen before.” Sliding his legs into the water, he starts to gently kick in time with you. He raises both hands, a bottle of whiskey in one and two bottles of water in the other.

“Give me the water, jackass.” Dean sets the whiskey next to him and hands over a water bottle. “Thank you.”

“Here.” He flattens his palm to reveal the pain relievers he’s also holding, and you accept three of them with a grateful smile before washing them down with a couple of sips of water.

Popping the remaining pills in his mouth, he opens the other water bottle and guzzles it down in a few large gulps.

The two of you silently watch the sun make its final descent over the horizon as you lean against one another. The Vegas skyline’s stunning lights begin to brighten, and you wave your hand to indicate the suite around you and break the silence. “Dean, what are we doing here? What happened after we left Caesars?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he softly replies, “You don’t remember?” His voice is rough, raspier than usual, like he’d been yelling for an extended period. Typically, you’d find it sexy as hell, but right now, it grates along your frayed nerve endings like sandpaper.

“No. I’ve been trying to piece it together.” You try for something maybe a little more specific. “Giant stuffed sea turtle?”

“Circus Circus?”

You nod, the memory slipping forward. The two of you had been strolling down the Midway, Dean’s arm around your shoulders, keeping you close amid the throng of tourists; the closeness also helping to keep both of you upright. You had squealed like a toddler at the sight of the turtle, and Dean had magnanimously vowed to win it for you by playing darts.

“Do you remember where we went after that?”

You shake your head in response just as another memory begins to swirl around the edges of your mind; Dean is yelling at you, wait, no, cheering for you. Something about a cow, no… a bull.

Oh, wow.

“Dean, do you remember riding a mechanical bull?”

“Uhmm…,”  he scrubs a hand down his face, “... yeah, yeah, I do. You did too, didn’t you?” A small laugh escapes his lips. “You did pretty well, but I was better; I stayed on the entire time,” he proudly declares.

Ignoring the arch of his eyebrow and arrogant smirk, you try to bring the memory into focus. “Gilley’s Saloon. That’s like almost five miles total, which means we didn’t walk.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t wear my hunting boots.” You tilt your head toward the front door of the suite. “There’s no way I’d walk five miles in those shoes.”

“I could have carried you.”

The look of disbelief you give him actually hurts your face.

“What? I’ve given you piggyback rides before,” he shrugs.

“Not for five miles, when we were obviously drunk out of our minds!” Another memory flashes in your mind. “Oh. A limo… we had a limo. The concierge from Caesars—Tom, no, Tony—he got us a car.” But that’s it; nothing else is forthcoming. Frustrated, you rub small circles into the skin at your temples.

“Uh, Y/N?” Dean grips your left hand, pointedly looking at the ring on your finger. “You’re wearing a wedding ring.”

With a beleaguered sigh, you whisper, “Apparently.” Rising to stand, you tug at Dean’s hand, indicating he should follow you.

He slowly rises to his feet, careful not to slip on the wet tile. “What’s up?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Squeezing his hand, you pull him along as you walk back into the suite. “Come on; there’s something you should see.”

Once inside, you let go of his hand and plop down onto the buttery soft leather couch, while Dean slumps into one of the overstuffed chairs opposite you. After taking one more look at the paper lying on the table, you slowly slide it over to him.

Dean’s brows furrow before rising in shock as his eyes drift down the page. “Is this… did we... “ Without lifting his head, he looks up at you, mouth in the shape of a silent, oh. “We… we’re married.” The corner of his mouth lifts into a smug smile. “You know what that means, right?” When he wiggles his eyebrows at you, it sends your anxiety into overdrive.

“Dammit, Dean, this is serious! Did you look at the signatures?” Jabbing a finger in the direction of the marriage certificate, you shriek, “We used our real names! That is a legal and binding document.” Jumping up, you pace in front of the couch, wildly gesturing with your hands. “Do you even remember getting married? Because I don’t! Not remembering my wedding day is not something I ever dreamed of happening. And what else did we do that we don’t remember?” You start to hyperventilate as you continue to pace. “I mean, we could have fucking killed someone or started another damn apocalypse and have no fucking clue!”

“Okay, whoa!” Dean gets up and takes a step over the coffee table to stand in front of you. Resting his hands on your shoulders, he looks you in the eye. “Hey, calm down, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Your hands clench into fists, and you shake them out with a huff. “Yeah- yeah, okay.” His touch is both electrifying and calming; it would be so easy just to fall into his embrace and let the steady beat of his heart soothe your frayed nerves. You nod your head and turn out of his grasp, taking a couple of steps away before he can see the emotion you can only imagine is written all over your face.

“Y/N?”

“I’m alright.” Spinning back to face him, you plaster a smile on your face. “So, what do we do now?”

Dean’s gaze is intent before he startles you with a shout. “Wait! Where’s the money?” Racing into the bedroom, he comes back with his jeans in hand and unceremoniously tosses your bag to you. Pulling out his wallet, he sits back down to count the bills. “I have a little over two grand; what’ve you got?”

Opening the small bag, you pull out a wad of bills and lay them out on the table to count. “Just under a grand,” you reply after your third attempt at tallying up the money.

“Son of a bitch! Where’s the rest of it?” Dean hops up from the chair again to pace the floor. “I swear, if we were robbed—”

“Easy there, cowboy,” you laugh. “It’s not like in the movies. Casinos don’t just hand over large sums of money to the winners. We had to fill out paperwork, remember? We only took twenty… no, ten grand in cash. They’ll send us, well, the ‘Campbells’, cashier’s checks for the balance after they deduct taxes.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Fine, but that still leaves us short about seven thousand.”

Pointing to the ring on your left hand, you huff, “Well, this probably cost around three grand, easy.”

“So what happened to the other four grand?” You watch as Dean stuffs the bills back into his wallet, partially pulling a slip of paper out before sliding it back into place. “The room.”

“Maybe…,” you huff. “I’m more concerned about this marriage certificate than I am the money.” Pulling the document closer, you point to the signatures. “I mean, how the hell did we get away with using our real names? It’s not like we have our real IDs.” You take a moment to think, then snap your fingers and exclaim, “Hey, maybe that’s where the rest of the money went. Maybe we bribed them.”

Tapping your finger on the paper, you continue to ponder. “I still don’t understand why we’d use our real names. Or why the hell we got married in the first place.”

“Is it really that horrible that we’re married?”

The tone in his voice makes your head snap in his direction. His face is unreadable as you try to determine what he meant. The silence grows heavy between you as you continue to stare at each other. He arches a brow, still waiting for your response, so you attempt to cut the tension with a joke.

“Look, I don’t know if I even find you attractive. Why the hell would I marry you?” Collecting the money lying on the table, you stuff it back into your bag, missing Dean’s anguished frown.

“You know, Sam is probably going nuts since he can’t reach either one of us.” You continue to avoid further eye contact with him and make your way toward the bathroom. “Why don’t you find the phone in here and call him while I take a quick shower? Once you’ve showered, we can meet up with him and see if he can help us put the rest of the events together. Maybe grab some food?” Without waiting for a response, you shut the bathroom door and slump to the floor.

What the hell was that? If you didn’t know better, you’d think that Dean is actually happy that the two of you are married.

The metal band is cool against your skin as you scrub your hand down your face. Stretching your arm out in front of you, you stare at the gemstones sparkling in the fluorescent light as you wiggle your finger. The ring fits perfectly like it was made specifically for you.

What a waste.

Out of all the people you had met and the few you had dated over the years, Dean was the one person you could actually see yourself marrying. He was the real deal, the whole package—brains, brawn, heart of gold, a hero—all neatly wrapped in that beautiful body with those gorgeous green eyes—the same color eyes as the stones in your ring.

Your ring… Is it really your ring? Where had it even come from?

The tears you’d been forcing down since first seeing the marriage certificate slide down your cheeks as you slide the ring off, wondering why you haven’t removed it before now. You immediately miss the weight of it around your finger.

With a sigh, you stand, slipping the ring into one of the robe’s pockets. You still need to figure out how you got to this point, and that isn’t going to happen sitting in here and wishing that the fantasy you’d often dreamed about hadn’t literally come true without you even being able to remember it. Maybe the hot shower will calm the storm of emotions raging through you and help release the memories still blocked in your mind.

The water pelting your body from all angles and the misty steam begin to ease the tension in your muscles, but your mind is still blank when it comes to what took place after the two of you left Gilley’s.

Geezus, the first time the brothers ask you to join them in Vegas, your presence causes everything to go down in flames.

You should have just said no. Then you wouldn’t have to face the feelings for Dean that you’d managed to keep in check all these years. Feelings that you had hoped might be reciprocated one day but knew in your heart never would be.

Dean is lying on the couch when you exit the bathroom, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. The shower had done very little to diffuse the overwhelming panic you were still feeling, and there he is, looking so at peace, like not being able to remember one of the single most important events of your life is no big deal.

It irritates the piss out of you, and you bark at him, “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Opening one eye, he arches his brow in question as he looks at you over the back of the couch. He opens his mouth but apparently thinks better about saying anything and instead swings his legs off the sofa to sit up, shoulders slumped and face buried in his hands.

The resigned sigh and troubled look on his face make your heart ache for no apparent reason when he finally stands. You reach out and gently grip his hand as he shuffles past you, making him pause.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and give his fingers a quick squeeze before releasing his hand. “Did you get a hold of Sam?”

Dean purses his lips, giving you a small nod. “Yeah, he’ll be here in about forty-five. He’s bringing a change of clothes for us, too.”

“Did you remember anything else?”

“Uhm… No.” He grimaces as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You?” His eyes seem to be pleading with you to tell him yes.

You shake your head and whisper, “No.” Dean looks almost pained at your response before his poker face slides into place.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says as he shuts the door to the bathroom behind him.

You plop down on the bed and bury your head in your hands, tears once again dampening your cheeks. Did you imagine it, or did Dean hesitate before he said he didn’t remember anything?

What a fucking mess this all turned out to be.

You had been so excited about coming to Vegas and spending time with the brothers having fun, yet here you are in the middle of one of the worst dilemmas of your life—married to your best friend without any idea of how it happened. You know that this isn’t something that he’d ever wanted, that being tied to you in this way will only be more of a burden to him. He’d never given you any indication that he felt more than friendship toward you. You need to fix this; Dean deserves better.

The thought of dressing in the clothes you’d spent the night before in isn’t very appealing, but you don’t have a choice. If you waited for Sam to get there, you wouldn’t be able to do what you needed to do. You find a pad of paper and a pen in the nightstand drawer and write a quick note.

Dean,

I’m sorry for my part in this; it was obviously a mistake. I’ll find an attorney to annul the marriage as soon as possible and have them send you the paperwork.

Picking up the marriage certificate from the coffee table, you put the note, along with the ring, in its place. After one more look around the room to make sure you have everything, you slip out the door, determined to set things right… no matter how much it hurts you.

This was your favourite place to be. Cas’ hands gripping deep into your hips while kissing him. Pure heaven. This is pure heaven. You didn’t know if it was because he was an angel or not that made it so perfect. Tailing kisses across his jaw following down his neck, a moan left his lips.

Cas started moving his hands under your shirt, lifting it over your head when he could . A shiver ran down your spine feeling the cold air. He took you closer to him rounding over so he was on top.

He takes over control now, kissing your lips, kissing your neck, kissing your chest, and finally kissing your lower stomach. One hand finds his hair taking a fist full. He starts to mess with you as he reached your tights. Running his hands over the tops spreading your legs. You moan, biting your lower lip.

“y/n” Dean called from the other side of the door, “what you doing it there?”.

“I’m busy” you yelled back looking up at Cas who was above you looking down at your bare chest.

“I heard moaning” he said on the other side of the door, moving the handle that was thankfully locked.

“I was watching porn”

“can I watch porn?”

“not with me!” you yell back.

He didn’t saying anything as he walked away. Cas rolled off you handing you your shit back.

When you had your shirt back on, you rolled on your side facing him. “Having a secret relationship gets harder and harder” you laughed looking at him. He copied you , laying face to face, you kissed his cheek. “I don’t know how they haven’t clocked on yet”.

“yes. They are rather slow on this matter” he spoke seriously making you laugh. “what? Did I say something funny?”.

You shook your head and held his cheek,  “enough talking”.  You grin as you kiss him again. yes, this is prefect.

“seriously what are you watching in there?!” Dean asked, knocking harder.