#sweet!dean

Dean’s jaw dropped before he looked up to see Castiel holding his hands up like he was scared of blowing something up. One of his palms was covered in purple paint as he met Dean’s gaze, wide-eyed. Dean stared back, shocked, with his jeans completely ruined and a purple handprint on his shoulder.

The first chuckle left Dean unbidden, but the sounds kept coming until he was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes and his head thrown back. When he had calmed down, wiping away the tears and gazing back at Cas, the man’s face was a ridiculously cute combination of mortification and fondness, and something warm filled Dean’s insides. “Gee, Cas, warn a guy first before spilling all over him.”

Castiel exhaled a surprised chuckle. “Seriously, is this really the time for a lewd joke?”

It was a relief that the innuendo had been what Castiel had picked up because Dean was feeling kinda winded for giving the guy a nickname practically right off the bat.

Trying to shake off his nervousness, he gave Cas a cocky grin and raised his shoulder in half a shrug. “Not for nothin’ they call me a bisexual disaster,” he said, for some reason, feeling the need to put it out there, to lay his cards on the table.

If he were expecting some kind of judgment, he would be sorely mistaken because Castiel’s smile seemed to grow impossibly wider. “Then that makes two of us. Bisexual and a disaster…” He looked over at the mess they had made. “Bisaster?” the dork added.

Yeah, Dean wasn’t a love-at-first-sight kinda guy, but Castiel was testing that theory.

When you had started feeling crappy a couple days ago, you had written it off as a hangover. Granted, you and Dean had been trying out a new drinking game the previous night. But when you had to make him pull over the next day so you could puke into a bush on the side of the road, you started to think maybe it was something more. And you weren't pregnant, thank God.

As you turned off the water, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and grimaced. You looked even worse than you felt. Your hair was matted and sticking up in several different gravity-defying directions, and your eyes were a watery red that could only come with sickness. Come to think of it, your eyes were a good deal hotter than usual, too - a sure sign your fever hadn't gone away during your nap. Turning off the bathroom light, you grumbled incoherently to yourself as you dragged your feet down the bunker's hallway. When you shuffled into the kitchen, Dean looked over at you from the stove in surprise.

"What are you doing out of bed, sweetheart? I told you if you needed something, I'd take care of it." You slumped into one of the stools at the table, sighing in relief as you rested your cheek on the cold surface.

"You're sweet," you said hoarsely, "but unless you're physically capable of throwing your guts up in my place, there wasn't a whole lot you could do for me this time." Dean stopped whatever he was working on and came over to you, crouching at your side.

"Did you get sick?" You nodded. "That's the third time today."

"Fourth," you corrected. "But who's counting?" He sighed as he pressed his palm against your forehead.

"Baby, you're burning up again. You take anything for the fever?"

"Doesn't matter," you replied. "I'll just throw it up again."

"Well, you should try to get some more rest." Having been with Dean for so long, you had gotten to see every side of him. During a hunt, he was gruff, all business, and didn't take any shit. When it came to you, though, he was protective, sweet, and far more affectionate than you had initially assumed. He cared about you, and it really showed.

"Don't want to," you protested shortly. "My sheets are all nasty from sick sweats." Dean made a face, crinkling his nose.

"Gross."

"You're telling me." He rubbed your back soothingly, a welcome gesture.

"You can camp out in the Fortress of Dean-i-tude if you want," he offered. This had you lifting your head from the table.

"Wait, really?" Aside from the occasional movie night when you would all cram onto the couch in front of the large TV, Dean was fairly territorial of the room. "I thought your man cave was off-limits."

"Not to my baby," Dean answered, standing as we went back over to the stove. "And don't tell Sam, but that's mostly just for show." You let out a soft chuckle and closed your eyes.

"I knew you were just a softie at heart."

"Hey, now, let's not go that far." Your stomach had finally begun to settle, leaving you with only exhaustion again. Dean was right. You really did need to get some more rest. Whatever sort of bug you had, it was taking its toll on your body, and you were down for the count. Head throbbing, you groaned. Dean placed the pot he was stirring on the back burner, and came back over to you, rubbing your shoulders.

"All right, come on, sweetheart. Let's get you all settled in and comfy." You blinked wearily at him as you pried your eyes open.

"I am comfy," you protested. Really, you weren't, but the fever aches had finally stopped, and you were afraid they would come back if you tried to move again. The green-eyed Winchester snorted.

"My ass." Dean scooped an arm under your knees, and you complied, winding your arms around his neck as he lifted you with ease. "How does a movie sound?" he questioned. "I can turn on some Star Wars, and we can cuddle while you try to nap. And if you get hungry later, I made you some of my mom's tomato rice soup." With a weak smile, you looked up at Dean gratefully. He always raved about the soup his mom used to make him when he was sick. You knew that Dean cared about you deeply, and you knew that he loved you just as much as you loved him. But you were touched by the lengths he went to show it.

"How did I get so lucky?" you asked him. He gently placed you on one of the couches in his man-cave, smoothing damp strands of hair off of your forehead. "I ask myself the same thing every day." You smiled again and had you not been feverish, you would've sworn that you were blushing. As Dean got the movie ready, you felt your eyelids begin to droop. Being so sick was exhausting. Just as you were beginning to drift off, Dean sat next to you, pulling a blanket over both of you. "Now, I want you to try and get some sleep, okay?" This time, you didn't argue. Instead, you merely nodded, allowing Dean to guide your head down to his lap, where he began to absentmindedly play with your hair. When your eyes finally closed, he leaned down, pressing a ghost of a kiss against your temple. "Feel better, sweetheart."

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Dean Darlings:

"Her dress was gorgeous," you added.

"You know," Dean mused, "I wouldn't mind seeing you in a dress like that someday." Your heart grew tight in your chest as you gazed seriously at him. You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing.  He had said something similar on the dance floor back at the reception, but you had brushed it off as a joke. Hunters couldn't get married, could they? Well, there was Garth. You chewed on your lip for a moment, carefully thinking your next words over.

"What you said back there when we were dancing," you ventured. "Did you really mean that?" Dean's eyes twinkled with pure joy as he gently took one of your hands.

"About us getting married?" You nodded. "Well, yeah, babe. It's like I said: you're the only woman on the face of the earth that makes me feel like this. I think it'd be pretty damn stupid of me if I passed up an opportunity to keep you at my side for the rest of our lives." You thought you might swoon. And since you weren't exactly the swooning type, that was saying a lot. Utterly speechless, you could only grin as you scooted closer to him on the car's leather seat.

"Okay," you finally decided. Dean turned his eyes from the road for a split second, looking down at you in surprise.

"Okay, what?"

"Let's do it," you said. The Impala screeched to a hard stop as the green-eyed man slammed on the brakes, nearly running straight through a stop sign. Obviously caught off guard, he flipped on the hazard lights, moving to the side of the road.

"...get married?" You nodded eagerly. He was right. You would be stupid if you didn't spend the rest of your life with him. "Like... now?" Throwing your head back, you let out a laugh. The last time he had been this baffled was when you had beaten him in a wrestling match.

"Not right this second. What do you think of soon?" Dean blinked at you once. Twice. Then, his face broke out in a grin as he swept you into a deep kiss. "Did we just get engaged?" he whispered against your lips. Chuckling, you cupped his face in your palm.

"Yeah, I think so. Pretty wild, huh?" Dean kissed you softly again.

"It's certainly somethin'." Suddenly, his eyes widened.

"What is it?" you questioned.

"We have to go back into town!" he exclaimed.

"What? Why?" You had heard of pre-wedding jitters, but you hadn't expected them to kick in this soon.

"We have to get booze to celebrate! We should get champagne." He pointed at you. "Do you want champagne?" You giggled at his spastic rambling. Throughout all the time you had spent together, you had only seen him this excited a handful of times.

"Champagne sounds good."

"And a ring!" he declared. "We need to get a ring!" Laying a hand on his arm, you tried to hold back your amusement.

"Dean, I don't need-"

"Shh! We're getting you a ring," he insisted. You snorted as he put the car back into drive, shaking his head. "Holy shit. Sam is not gonna believe this."

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Dean Darlings:

"Y/N, you know you don't have to have flowers, right? It's your wedding," he reminded you. "You can have as much or as little as you want." You let out a breath. It wasn't like that thought hadn't already crossed your mind.

"I guess I didn't realize doing this all on my own would be so..." You waved your hand through the air, not quite sure what word you were looking for.

"Stressful?" Sam filled in. You pointed at him enthusiastically.

"Exactly! I mean, I've seen The Wedding Planner, I just thought they were exaggerating that it takes a miracle worker for everything to go right, you know?" Sam chuckled.

"Well, if it comes down to it, you and Dean could always elope." A smile made its way onto your lips as you took a look around you. Now, there was an idea.

"I guess we could just do our vows in here and call it a day, huh?" You shook your head as you leaned back in your chair. It would certainly make everything a lot easier. But then again, you wouldn't get your ceremony. "I don't want to do that, though," you admitted. "I know we don't even have that many people we could invite-"

"Jody," Sam interrupted. "Claire, Alex, Donna," he listed off. You rolled up your magazine and whacked him playfully.

"I didn't say we didn't have anyone to invite, you dork." Sam held up his hands in defense to block your attacks, grinning. "I just..." The moment of half-assed joking was over when you sighed. "I want it to be special." He gave you a sympathetic look.

"I wouldn't stress about it too much, Y/N. When it's all said and done, I know you won't have any regrets about what you and Dean decided to do." Once again, he was right. At the end of the day, all that really mattered was that you and Dean got to say, "I do." The bunker door opened, and the two of you looked up to see none other than your soon-to-be husband coming in.

"Speak of the Devil," Sam joked. When Dean peered over the railing and saw you, his face lit up.

"Hey, you two," he greeted. Grocery bags rustled in his hands as he came down the staircase. "I got pie." You couldn't help but snort. As if he even needed to say it at this point.

"Your fiancèe is having some pre-wedding jitters," Sam pointed out. Dean glanced at you, eyebrows raised in question.

"Is she, now? No cold feet, I hope." You stood and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"She is right here," you said. "And not a chance." He smiled down at you sweetly.

"Good. I like the way 'fiancèe' sounds. And I'm gonna life 'wife' even better. Hi, baby." He leaned down to press his lips against yours.

"Hi." Your impressive spread of wedding catalogs and magazines caught his attention, and his eyes went wide.

"Wow," he mused. "That's a lot of stuff."

"I know, right?" Dean gave a small shake of his head.

"Sammy, you feel like taking care of groceries?" Although he looked less than thrilled, the younger Winchester took the bags from his brother and headed toward the kitchen. "How long you been workin' on all this?" he questioned. Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair with a shrug.

"Since right after you left, I think." Again, Dean raised his eyebrows at you.

"Seriously? I've been gone all day."

"Yeah." You nodded. "There's tons to choose from. To be honest, it's stressing me out a little bit." Your fiancè held out his arms for a hug, which you gratefully accepted.

"Sweetheart, I know I said I would leave the picking up to you," he murmured into your hair, "but that doesn't mean I don't want to help." You smiled. Although he had been nervous about the wedding at first, his anxiousness had faded much faster than yours had. Actually, he had been fine right after the two of you bought the ring. "This is a big project," Dean continued, "so, you tell me what you need me to do, and I'll do it." You had a whole list of things that needed doing, but the pressure of it all made even the most simple of tasks get so jumbled in your head.

"I don't know," you admitted miserably. "I know we're hunters, and I know it seems stupid to get this upset over wanting our wedding to be perfect, but-" Dean cut you off with a shake of his head.

"Baby, it's not stupid at all," he reassured you as he traced comforting circles into your arms with his thumbs.

"It's not?"

"Of course, not. I want it to be perfect, too. You're right: we are hunters. Sure, we don't have a ton of money to spend on a ceremony, and there won't be tons of people there," he said, "but Sam, Cas, and Jack'll be there. I'll be there." He cupped your cheek in his palm, looking you in the eyes tenderly. "You’ll be there. And I don't know what type of dress you have picked out because you won't let me see-" You snorted. "-but I do know that you'll outshine every other bride in the world because you're my bride." Damn, did he ever have a way with words. Standing on your tiptoes, you gave him a small peck on the lips.

"I love you."

"Love you too, babe. Now, what do you say we make a dent in this, huh?" You nodded.

"I say, let's do it."

"All right." Dean took a seat at the table, positioning himself right in the middle of all the chaos. "Let's start with flowers." You groaned loudly, tilting your head back.

"Dear God, please, anything but the fucking flowers."

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Dean Darlings:

Dean was a few steps away from you, his expression focused. It was a look of warning - one that dared someone to try and go up against him. You had seen him don this look before on a hunt, but being on the receiving end of it made you uneasy. The way he had his eyes narrowed and his jaw set was intimidating to say, in the least. Honestly, you weren't sure how others were still always so willing to go up against him. You took in a few slow, deep breaths, centering your concentration. Your fighting skills had improved immensely since Dean had started training you, and you were still getting better every day. The adrenaline rush that came with having to block and then counter a blow within half a second made it easy to learn quickly, and not repeat your mistakes a second time.

You moved with precise speed, throwing a series of quick jabs and kicks at Dean. He blocked your attacks with ease, coming at you with a left hook when you faltered. Some of your training kicked in, and you ducked automatically. The movement of Dean's punch left his face open, so you took the opportunity to aim a blow at his jawline. When his hands didn't make it up to block your hit in time, you froze, your fist only centimeters from its mark. A small smirk made its way onto your face.

"Gotcha," you said. Dean nodded, looking surprised, but pleased.

"Good," he praised. "That was really good." You gave him a smug smile, planting your hands on your hips.

"I told you I know how to defend myself." Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you do now."

"Hey!" you exclaimed. Ignoring you, Dean clapped his hands together and backed away from you again.

"All right. Try to knock me down." You eyed him skeptically in response.

"What?" Dean laughed.

"Knock me on my ass," he repeated. "Come on, Y/N. I know you can do it." You gave him the same skeptic glance as before as you readjusted your stance nervously.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" you asked. Dean shrugged and bent his knees as if preparing for some unseen force of impact.

"Just think of something. I wanna see what you can come up with on the fly." Blowing stray hairs from your face, you nodded. In what you were hoping was a swift movement, you swept your leg in a half-circle, aiming for Dean's feet. He moved out of the way easily, and in the blink of an eye had spun you away from him and pinned your arms behind your back. "Too slow," he said in your ear. You let out a huff of frustration, painfully aware of how close to you he was. His broad chest was pressed flush up against your back, and the warmth from his body seeped in through your shirt. You wrenched yourself from his grip and rubbed your wrist, where Dean had been holding onto it only moments before.

"Aren't you gonna at least cut me some slack?" you asked impatiently. Dean shook his head.

"Nope." You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Dean, I'm still learning," you pointed out.

"I know," he replied, nodding his agreement. "But in a real fight, no one is going to go easy on you just because you're new at this. This is how you get better." You sighed. "Now," he continued, "you've got a good deal of power behind that punch and a sturdy stance that won't be easy to knock over, but you're forgetting the most important part." You raised your eyebrows with curiosity.

"All right, well, don't leave me in suspense here," you said imploringly.

"You need to be able to catch your opponent off guard," Dean explained. "If you only use what you know right now in a fight, there's no way you can win." You let out a small puff of air along with a roll of your eyes. Normally, you would have some sort of snarky reply to fire back at him, but you knew he was right. If faced with a real fight right now, you really wouldn't stand a chance.

"Okay, so what, you're telling me I need an element of surprise?"

"Exactly." Without giving him any warning, you sent a fist flying in his direction. Dean caught your punch in his hand, his eyes lighting up with what you recognized as amusement.

"Better," he said, nodding his head. "But still too predictable." You scowled and thrust a knee up into his groin area, a move he hadn't taught you. Dean blocked the blow with his forearms before you could make contact. He shoved your knee out of the way and held up a finger, a deadly serious expression on his face. "Whoa."

"You said you wanted me to catch you off guard!" Dean nodded his agreement.

"Yes! Catch me off guard! Not damage the goods!" You let out another frustrated huff. There wasn't much else you could do. Well... there was one thing. If he wanted an element of surprise, then he was going to get one. You threw a punch at him with your left hand. Just as you were expecting, he caught it with ease. "Come on, Y/N," Dean began, "that was-" Using your free hand, you wove your fingers through the soft, short hairs at the nape of his neck,and pulled his face down to your own before he could react. And then his lips were on yours.

The way your mouths moved together in such perfect synchronization had you feeling like no time had passed at all. His full lips against yours left your heart racing, and you had to force yourself to remember why you were even doing this in the first place. You weren't playing fair, and you knew that, but Dean had been asking for it. Reluctantly, you pulled away and watched him intently as his green eyes fluttered open, gauging his reaction.

"Y/N..." he said softly. He opened his mouth to continue, but you didn't give him a chance, switching the grip on your left hand, so you were the one holding onto his wrist. Using his surprise to your advantage, you whirled him around, pinning both of his arms behind his back and pushed him down to the ground almost effortlessly. Dean laid in the grass, stunned, as you held him down.

"Gotcha," you repeated, though this time, you were hardly able to get the word out. You stepped back, releasing his arms. Dean rolled over on his back, looking up at you with a face that told you he clearly wasn't thinking about your training anymore. When you held out a hand to him, he took it wordlessly and stood. You held your breath. It was the type of silence where you knew that if you even breathed, the moment would be broken. Finally, Dean spoke.

"Why did you..." he trailed off. He was at a complete loss for words. You gave a weak smile.

"You were the one that wanted me to catch you off guard." It was as if your comment fell on deaf ears. Dean hadn't heard a word you said. Not really. He wrapped a well-toned arm around your waist and pulled you close to him. You didn't resist.

"Y/N." The way he whispered your name sent shivers down your spine. Your breath hitched in your throat as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, in a way that was so gentle, you almost thought he was afraid he was going to break you. His warm, calloused hand rested on your cheek, and he looked into your eyes seriously. "Was that real?" he asked. "Or were you just trying to get the jump on me?" You swallowed hard, heart hammering in your chest.

"It was real," you breathed. When Dean looked down at you with his eyes full of infinite tenderness, all of the feelings you had desperately been trying to repress for the past month forced their way to the surface.

Ever since he had shown back up on your doorstep, you had been trying to convince yourself that you weren't in love with him. That he broke your heart once before, and you knew better now. Still, here you were. There was a realization that you had come to a couple days after Dean had left again that you had refused to admit at the time. It had occurred to you that maybe after all that time, you had never stopped loving Dean. You knew now that you were right. After all that time, your heart had put itself back together, and you somehow found yourself loving Dean Winchester again. But then again... maybe you never stopped in the first place.

Dean clenched and unclenched his jaw as he leaned down again to recapture your lips. When you tilted your chin up slightly, you could feel how close he was by his breath fanning across your lips. And then his phone began to ring, and the spell was broken. Dean hurriedly released you, his cheeks a shade pinker than usual. He yanked the small, obnoxious device from his pocket, frowning down at the screen.

"Sammy?" Sam's voice frantically rambled on the other end of the line, and Dean's frown deepened. "Wait, wait, wait, slow down." You heard him sigh.

"Put Y/N on the phone." Dean held out his phone to you, which you took.

"What's up?" you said into the receiver. 

"Hey," Sam greeted, sounding both agitated and slightly amused. "There's a woman trying to pound down your motel door, and it's not the witch." You felt your eyebrows knit together.

"Uh, who is it?"

The drive back to the motel was faster than it usually was, which you were thankful for. Dean had barely put the Imala in park before you jumped out, walking briskly over to your door, where the woman was still standing, her phone up to her ear.

"Mom?" you asked incredulously. Your mother whirled around, her eyes frantic. She shoved her phone back into her purse as you approached her, an obvious look of relief on her face. "What-" Before you could get another word out, she gathered you into a bone-crushing hug, eliciting a small "oof" from you.

"I went to the hospital to surprise you and drop off lunch, and they told me you were fired! What happened? Where the hell have you been?" You removed yourself from the hug, holding your mother at arm's length so she wouldn't suffocate you.

"Mom, breathe," you said. "I've been at home." She narrowed her eyes at you, planting her hands firmly on her hips.

"You were not at home because I went there before I came here! Which reminds me, what the hell happened to your apartment? It looks like a tornado went through there!" She was asking questions you didn't have safe answers to. If you told her what was really going on, she would think you were going crazy.

"I-I," you stuttered. Dean began to slowly approach, and you locked eyes with him, desperate for an excuse. "I got robbed," you blurted out. Dean tucked his chin back slightly as he raised his eyebrows.

"Robbed?" he mouthed to you. He gave you the "ok" sign with his hand as he pursed his lips and nodded. "Nice."

"You what?" You glanced at Dean again with helpless eyes. He stepped back, holding his hands up, a clear sign that you were on your own here. "Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N," your mother scolded. You grimaced. She only used your middle name when you were really in for it. "You tell me what the hell is going on right now."

"Mom, I'm fine!" you exclaimed. She sputtered in disbelief.

"You're 'fine?' Oh no," she admonished, "don't you try to tell me you're 'fine!' 'Fine' wouldn't be unemployed! 'Fine' would-"

"Okay, mom, okay," you cut her off. "I get it."

"Come home," she ordered. Your stomach turned uneasily. "I don't want you staying in an apartment that's been robbed, and-" You glanced at Dean again, who looked just as perplexed as you did. This time, your mother followed your gaze and turned around. When her eyes landed on Dean, she reached for you absentmindedly. "You," she said venomously. "What the hell are you doing here?" You should have known this would happen. The only person that was more protective of you than Dean was your mom. Especially when it came to Dean. When your heart broke six years ago, she was there to help pick up the pieces. She knew all the anguish he put you through. There was no way this was going to end well. You latched onto her arm tightly.

"Mom, let me explain," you pleaded.

"No," your mother replied angrily. "I don't want to hear it. This man is nothing but trouble, Y/N, can't you see that?" You brushed past her and went to stand next to Dean.

"He's helping me!" you argued. She shook her head.

"I don't care! This happened last time, too! You disappeared for two weeks, and went, God knows where!" Your stomach clenched with guilt. She wasn't wrong. The last time you helped the Winchesters with their hunt, you had to take yourself off the grid to protect your mother. She had practically gone ballistic when she hadn't been able to get a hold of you. You tuned back into your mother's screeching. "I bet it was his idea to drag you out here, too, wasn't it?" Something clicked in your brain as realization hit you in the face like a ton of bricks. Your mouth went dry.

"Mom," you said shakily. "How did you know where to find me?" She crossed her arms, still looking annoyed.

"Well, when I was leaving your apartment, one of your neighbors told me where you went." She stuck out her chin and sniffed. "Since you were apparently too busy running around with him to tell me yourself. She was really, very nice." Your surroundings seemed to buzz loudly in your ear as you forced yourself to remember to breathe.

"What did she look like?" you asked in a panicked voice.

"What?"

"The neighbor, mom, what did she look like?" Your mother looked bewildered as her angry expression melted away.

"I don't know for sure, I wasn't paying attention to that." You grabbed her forearms, giving her a small shake.

"I know this doesn't make any sense to you," you said, trying to keep your voice level. "But I need you to try and think of what she looked like, mom. please." She blinked, still looking confused.

"Well, I know she was my age, at least." She paused. "And she had long, black hair." You released your mother and took a step back as the world spun around you. "She told me to tell you that she hopes you come back soon."

"The witch," you breathed. There was no doubt in your mind that your mother was no longer safe. This was some unbelievably cruel mind game. Images of victims from the case you had worked years ago flashed briefly before your eyes, and you really thought you might pass out. When you stumbled, Dean grabbed onto you tightly. You held onto him for dear life, shaking your head wildly. "Sh-she," you stuttered, "she knows. Dean, she knows."

"I know, I know," he said, trying to talk you down from your panicked ledge. "We're gonna figure it out, okay? And we're gonna do everything we can to keep her safe. But first, you need to calm down. Your mom looks really scared right now." You glanced over at your mother, who was watching you, eyes wide. You took in a deep breath, forcing yourself to calm down. "And we need to explain this to her."

"Okay," you finally said. "Okay." Patting Dean's arm in a silent gesture of thanks, you made your way back over to your mother.

"Y/N," she said softly, "what is going on?" You wrapped your arms around her form, incredibly grateful that she was still in one piece.

"Let's go home," you decided. "We need to talk."

"Witches?" You moved around your old home's kitchen with familiarity as you made a pot of coffee. "You really expect me to believe that?" You shook your head.

"No," you answered honestly, "I really don't. That's why I need you to trust me. I know this all seems like something out of a fucked up fairytale." Despite your age, she still glared at you harshly when you dropped the f-bomb. "But it's real." Your mother sighed loudly, resting her elbows on the kitchen table and steepling her fingers underneath her chin.

"I don't really know what to say here, Y/N," she admitted after a long moment. "I mean, it's like you're asking me to believe in vampires and werewolves, here." In the corner of your eye, you caught Sam and Dean exchange a glance a few feet away. When Dean looked at you meaningfully, you subtly shook your head. Witches were enough for today. Anything else and you were afraid she would have a heart attack.

"We know it's a lot," Sam piped up. "But Y/N is telling you all this to protect you."

"What do you know about my daughter?" your mom snapped.

"Mother, please," you demurred. She sighed heavily, nodding in the direction of the Winchesters.

"I just don't understand why they're here." You glanced back at the boys nervously before turning your attention back to your mother,

"This... isn't my first run-in with a witch," you admitted reluctantly. "The first time you ever met Dean, we had just finished hunting another witch. I owe these boys my life. They've saved it more than once before." Your mother gave the two boys a wary once-over before sighing, seeming to surrender her angry facade.

"Then I suppose I owe you my thanks," she decided. She paused for a second before narrowing her eyes at Dean again. "But I still don't like you," she informed him. Dean looked to the ground shamefully, and you placed your hand over your mom's.

"It's okay," you assured her. "I'm not worried about that. Right now, my main priority is keeping you safe." She let out a snort.

"And how do you intend to do that? Never let me out of your sight again?" Your lips quirked into a wry smile. You definitely got your sarcastic sense of humor from her.

"Maybe not quite to that extent, but I do think it would be a good idea if we stayed here until this is all over with." Your mother looked between the three of you.

"'We?'" she asked. "As in all of you?" You glanced over your shoulder at the boys, silently asking them with your eyes if this was something they were okay with. Both of them gave you nods in return.

"Yeah," you responded. "All of us." The coffee pot stopped making noise, a sign it had finished brewing.

"Oh, hell," your mom swore, giving another heavy sigh as she stood. "Fine," she relinquished. Without another word, she turned to pour herself a mug of coffee. You went over to the Winchesters, giving them a half-hearted smile of relief.

"What now?" you asked quietly. Sam stuffed his hands in the pocket of his jacket.

"For now, you just stay here with her, so she isn't alone. Dean and I can go get our stuff from the motel." Honestly, you were relieved. As much as you liked being with the Winchesters, driving halfway across town and back didn't exactly sound like something you wanted to do right now.

"All right. Thanks, guys." The moment the two boys were gone, your mother rounded on you, placing her mug on the kitchen counter.

"Y/N," she said firmly. You looked up at her sheepishly through your eyelashes. Based on that tone of voice, you could already guess what was coming. You expected her to continue, but she merely raised an eyebrow at you, apparently waiting for you to speak first. Giving a shrug, you came around next to her to pour your own mug of coffee.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't want you to say anything," she chided. "I just want you to think about what you're doing here. I remember how badly he hurt you last time. Do you?" Her words made you pause. Of course, you remembered. How could you forget? It felt like someone had ripped your heart straight from your chest. Whether or not he had intended to, Dean had left scars on your heart that you didn't think would ever fade. Less than a few hours ago, you had been so sure of what you wanted. But now that your mother had gotten in your head, you weren't so sure anymore. You raised the mug of coffee to your lips thoughtfully, trying to justify your reasoning to her.

"He's changed, mom." Your tone of voice sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anything. You hated that. "He told me he's trying to make it right." Your mother watched you carefully while you took another sip.

"For your sake, I really hope that's true."

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"I take it all back," you said quickly, snatching one of the styrofoam cups from the cardboard carrier. "Geoff, you literally saved my life."

"I wish I could say the same," he replied. His tone was alarmingly emotionless and cold. You looked up at Geoff with a frown, confused. When your eyes met his face, the travel cup slipped from your hand, spilling a large pool of the rich, brown liquid on the clean white tile. His once-clear skin was now bloody, blackened, and peeling in places. He was so severely charred that if you hadn't seen his body on the night he died, you weren't entirely sure you would have recognized him at all. You had to force down the bile that rose in the back of your throat. "Why didn't you save me, Y/N?" When you turned to Linda for support, you fell backward out of your chair as you scrambled to get away. Her appearance was also distorted, with pale skin, blue lips, and eyes that were fogged over.

"You could have saved us, Y/N," she said monotonously. You pushed yourself away from them as they continued to advance.

"Why didn't you save us?" The question was stuck on repeat as it reverberated throughout the room, getting louder each time. You pressed your palms against your ears frantically to block out the noise, but it was no use.

"Stop!" you screamed, trying to drown out their voices. Geoff reached out, catching you in a steel grip. "Let go of me!" You thrashed violently against him, trying to free your arms. "Stop!"

"Y/N, hey, hey, it's just me!" Your eyes flew open, darting around the unfamiliar settings in a blind panic.

"Let me go!" you yelled, still caught in your nightmare.

"Easy, easy!" Dean squeezed you tighter against his chest, forcing you to stop struggling. Your breaths came raggedly as you finally began to remember where you were and who you were with. "It's just me," Dean repeated. "You're fine, all right? You're okay. It was just a bad dream." You slumped against him as tears made their way down your cheeks. Dean released his hold on your arms and pulled you close to him, wrapping you in a hug. Had you been in a better state of mind, you probably would have pushed him away. Probably. You held onto him tightly, almost afraid he would slip away if you loosened your grip on him too much. Dean reciprocated your hold, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

"I'm right here, sweetheart," he reassured softly. "I'm right here." Your muscles began to relax again, and you took deep breaths to slow your racing heart. "It was the witch, wasn't it?" Dean asked after a moment, jolting you from your thoughts. When you gave a slow nod, he let out a breath, swearing to himself. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispered. "I never meant for you to get sucked back into all of this. I was trying to protect you." He smoothed back a stray, sweaty piece of hair from your face. "I feel like this is all my fault," Dean admitted. "Because I came back again."

"Dean," you started. "I'm alive because you came back again. That's not something you should feel guilty for." Glancing at his shoulder where your face had been, you let out an embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry I cried all over your shirt." Dean peered down at himself, looking unphased. The fabric on his shirt was so drenched, it was literally a different shade from the rest of it. Dean rolled his eyes.

"How come you always apologize for the things you can't help?" You let out another soft chuckle.

"Hey, leave me alone," you replied, playfully shoving his shoulder. "You know I've always done that."

"Yeah, I do know." The corners of his lips turned up into a smile as if he was caught in a fond memory. "That's one of my favorite things about you. Always has been." Your heart skipped a beat as a blush rose up into your cheeks. When you gave Dean a sidelong glance, you realized his face looked just as red as yours. Had he meant to say that? You cleared your throat.

"Did I, um, wake you?" Dean shook his head, seemingly relieved.

"Nah." You raised your eyebrows at him, glancing over at the clock.

"Dean, it's one in the morning."

"I know that!" he replied defensively. "I couldn't sleep." You rubbed his arm sympathetically. When Dean had first started living with you all those years ago, there had been lots of nights where you woke up, and he wasn't next to you.

"Are you still having trouble sleeping?" you asked gently. Dean let out a dry laugh.

"Always," he responded. Dean scratched the back of his neck, looking awkward. "But the, uh, couch isn't really all that comfortable." You looked over at the lumpy motel couch cushions, taking note of the pillows and blankets in odd formations. Dean had obviously been having a hard time trying to get comfortable. The wheels began to turn in your head. What you were about to suggest was a stupid idea and would definitely only lead to things being even more complicated. But still...

"We could always just share the bed," you suggested, trying to sound as nonchalant as you could manage. Dean's eyes flicked up to yours, surprised.

"I..." He licked his lips, and you could tell by his expression that he was choosing his words carefully. "I don't want you to feel like you have to-"

"Hey," you cut him off, your tone gentle. "I'm the one that offered, right? Besides, it doesn't really seem fair to me that I get a big bed all to myself while you have to wrestle with some nasty-ass couch cushions." Dean's cheeks flushed a light pink as he stood from the mattress, turning his back to you.

"I don't think it's a good idea," he said quietly. He took a step back in the direction of the couch, and on an impulse, you reached out and grabbed his hand. Oh God, this was it. If you went through with this, everything was going to change again. Your defense walls were going to come down, and if you let him back in, he could break your heart just as easily as he did the first time. Fuck.

"Stay." You said the word so quietly, you weren't sure if Dean heard you at first. But then he turned around, and you saw the look in his eyes. How his green orbs swam with emotion, holding conflict, pain, and uncertainty just beneath the surface. "Please." With how intently he was watching you, you were almost afraid he was going to say no. Only a few seconds must have passed, but it felt like an eternity before he finally gave a slow nod.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. I'll stay." You released his hand, and he came around to the other side of the mattress, lifting the blankets for himself. Once he was settled, he groaned, closing his eyes. "I didn't realize until just now how much I've missed an actual mattress. You giggled lightly.

"Sorry," you apologized. Dean shook his head.

"Nah, don't be. I knew where you were coming from." You watched him with careful eyes as he moved towards you and opened his arms. This was one of the things you had missed most about Dean. The two of you had always been able to communicate with just a simple gesture or facial expression. Almost as if you could read each other's minds. You scooted over to him, pressing yourself against his chest. And when he wrapped his toned arms around you, you knew you were done for all over again. It felt like nothing had changed. Every trace of him was familiar, and at that precise moment, everything felt right. Dean gave your cheek a gentle kiss before resting his chin on top of your head. "We start training again in the morning. Get some sleep, sweetheart." You closed your eyes, trying to keep your tone serious, although you couldn't hide the fact that you were smiling.

"Not your sweetheart," you muttered. Dean's chest rumbled slightly against you as he chuckled softly.

"Get some rest."

For the first time in a very long time, you woke up feeling completely rested. Not even the crappy motel bed could've deterred you from your good night's sleep. You made a move to roll over so you could get up but froze when you realized Dean's arms were still tangled around you. When you peeked back at him from over your shoulder, you couldn't suppress the smile that made its way onto your lips or the warm feeling that built up in your chest. Dean Winchester was still sound asleep, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Apparently, it had been a good night's rest for him too. And knowing Dean, that meant a lot.

Being careful not to wake him, you lifted his arm slightly to shimmy your way out of his grasp. Even when in a deep sleep, Dean was still somehow a light sleeper. You knew his mind never fully shut off. He never let it. He always had to be alert in case something happened. This was something you had learned for yourself. Years back, you had gotten up one night to get a glass of water. On your way to the kitchen sink, the glass had slipped from your fingers and shattered on the floor. You had barely even had the chance to crouch down and pick up the shards when Dean had come running down the hallway, gun drawn. You knew you would never forget the way he had scanned your apartment with such alert and calculating eyes.

"Dean?" you had asked, quickly standing up and grasping onto the countertop behind you for support. A look of such immense relief you had never seen on him before had come onto his face before he finally tucked the gun into the waistband of his lounge pants. At that point, you already knew about almost all elements of the supernatural, but for some reason, the fact that Dean had a gun on him at all times left you feeling rattled. But more than anything, you felt bad for the poor man. You couldn't imagine living your life having every waking moment be in fear and paranoia. Well, until the witch had come into your life, at least.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you took up an armful of clothes and headed into the bathroom, checking the time on the bedside table's clock as you did. 7:03. The fact that you had woken up so early without any sort of alarm also spoke volumes of just how well you had slept the night before. Usually, the only time you ever woke up this early was for a shift at the hospital. Your stomach instantly knotted up at the thought. The hospital. You picked up your phone, eyeing it warily before finally turning it on. It had been off since yesterday afternoon. You had been too scared to turn it back on. As you pulled a clean tank top on over your sports bra, the device vibrated against the bathroom countertop. Your stomach did a flip. This wasn't going to be fun. Just as you had been anticipating, there was a voicemail waiting for you. Steeling yourself, you held the phone up to your ear, listening intently.

"Y/N," a voice rang through. You swore. The only time your boss called your personal phone was when there was a serious matter at hand. "This is Mike. Listen, I hate to do this over a voicemail, but we've been trying to get a hold of you for the past couple of days. You're one of my best surgeons, but leaving someone to die is something I can't let slide. I'm sorry. We're gonna have to let you go." Your heart fell. "I'll be in touch if you have any questions." The line gave a soft click as the recording came to an end.

"Fuck," you whispered as you held back frustrated tears. You knew it had been coming, but that definitely didn't make it any easier. After everything you had gone through to get that job, you were suddenly just fired. It didn't seem real. Exiting the bathroom, you turned your phone off again, deciding no good could come from it being on anymore. You were restless. You had had every intention of waiting around the room until Dean woke up, but after that voicemail, sitting still sounded unbearable. Opening the motel door, you walked out into the bright morning sunlight. If anything, you really just needed some air.

"Y/N?" You looked over in surprise, leaning up against the door.

"Sam," you replied, shooting him a weak smile. "What are you doing up so early?" Sam chuckled.

"This is actually late for me," he admitted. "I was supposed to be up an hour ago, but I guess I needed the extra sleep."

"Where are you headed?" He pointed over his shoulder to the motel's parking lot. "I was just getting ready to go for a jog." Sam gave you a once over, and understanding graced his features. "You want to tag along? You look like you could blow off some steam." Letting out a dry laugh, you shook your head.

"You have no idea. Let me just leave a note for Dean, so he doesn't freak out when he wakes up, and I'm gone." You heard Sam chuckle as you reached for the doorknob.

"Yeah, I heard you went out on a little adventure the other night." You cringed as you sucked in a breath through your teeth. 

"Probably not my best idea," you confessed. Sam let out another laugh as you headed back into the motel room, still being careful to not wake Dean. You were grateful Sam had invited you to come along. Typically, you detested running, but today it was a perfect excuse to get out of the room and get your mind off of the fact that you were now unemployed. Not that you were sure it really mattered anymore anyway. You scribbled out a short note to Dean and placed it on your pillow before leaving the room again.

"Ready?" Sam asked as you shut the door behind you.

"Yup," you answered, popping the 'p.' He bobbed his head in the direction of the road.

"Let's get going, then." Sam broke into a pace that you were easily able to match, despite the fact that you couldn't remember the last time you had gone for a run.

"Thanks for letting me come with you," you said between breaths.

"Sure, Y/N." The two of you were silent for another moment before he struck up the conversation again. "Is everything okay? You looked pretty flustered coming out of the room." He paused, looking a little awkward. "Did Dean do something?" You let out a bark of laughter.

"No," you replied. "Your stupid brother didn't do anything." When Sam shot you a curious glance, you sighed. "Work drama," you explained. Thankfully, Sam seemed to pick up on your vibe of not wanting to talk about it.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said sympathetically. You replied with a shrug.

"It is what it is," you responded, trying to seem indifferent. "But, thanks." It was ironic, really. Indifferent was the last thing you were.

By the time you and Sam got back to the motel, it was a little after eight.

"Hey," Dean greeted when you entered the room. Your heart gave a little flutter at the sight of him. He was sipping coffee on the bed, hair slightly mussed. It wasn't hard to tell he had just woken up.

"Morning, sleepyhead," you teased. He gave a grunt in response.

"How was your run?" Dean asked, passing a hand over his eyes.

"Good." He bobbed his head towards your phone, which was sitting on the table where you had left it.

"You didn't take your phone with you," he pointed out. You scowled at the device.

"Didn't want to," you replied curtly. Dean peered at you over the rim of his coffee mug.

"Why's that?" Your chest suddenly became tight. You didn't want to talk about it, honestly. Talking about it made it real. Maybe if you avoided it enough, it would eventually go away. You turned your back to Dean, resting your weight against the round, wooden table.

"I had a voicemail from my boss." You had to swallow the lump in your throat. "He, ah... He fired me."

"C'mere." You turned around, looking at Dean. His mug of coffee sat on the bedside table, and he was patting the mattress next to him. He watched with serious eyes as you obeyed, sinking down into the spot where he wanted you. Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and the small gesture of comfort immediately had tears pricking at your eyes. "You okay?" he asked softly. You paused. Were you okay? A week ago, you were still living a normal life, saving lives, making a healthy paycheck. Now, you were unemployed, on the run, and fearing for your life. Honestly, you felt a little stupid for getting so upset over something as trivial as a job when lives were at stake. But still. You shook your head, embarrassed, looking down at your lap where your hands were clasped tightly.

"No," you whispered.

"Hey," Dean said quietly. He pulled you closer to him and placed a kiss on the side of your head, rubbing circles into your arm with his thumb. You leaned forward and held your head in your hands.

"I worked so fucking hard for that job," you said through clenched teeth. "I waitressed at that shitty diner for years to get through med school, and I-" You let out a breath. "It was all for nothing."

"Come here," he said again. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you buried your face in Dean's shoulder, honestly hoping the rest of the world would just go away. He held you tightly against him in complete silence. After a moment, you took in a shaky breath.

"I'm-"

"Don't apologize," Dean chastised gently, rubbing your back soothingly. You couldn't help but chuckle at the way he knew what you were going to say even before you said it. He knew you just as well as you did him. After a few more silent moments, Dean kissed the side of your head again and pulled away. "Come on," he said, giving your knee a pat. You frowned.

"Where are we going?" you asked. Dean picked up the Impala's keys from the table with a cheeky smile.

"We are getting breakfast."

"I thought you said we were gonna start training again this morning." He shook his head.

"Training later. Pancakes, bacon, and coffee now."

"But-" Dean held up a hand.

"Nah-ah!" You rolled your eyes at him playfully. Apparently, he wasn't taking no for an answer today. "You. Car. Now. I'll go get Sam." You laughed, your mood already improving. As Dean turned to head out of the motel room, he paused at the door. "And Y/N?" You looked up at him. "It's gonna be-" You nodded with a soft smile.

"I know. Thanks." Dean reciprocated your smile, heading over to Sam's room. As soon as the door closed behind him, your shoulders slumped slightly. Honestly, you weren't sure how much pancakes and bacon could do for you right now. You appreciated Dean's attempt to make you feel better, but what were you going to do when all this was over? Your heart sank into your stomach. Was Dean even going to stay after all was said and done? For all you knew, he was going to leave you in the dust again. The motel door opening pulled you from your thoughts. Dean pointed at you.

"You're supposed to be in the car," he stated. You laughed, standing from the mattress.

"I'm going, I'm going."

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Chapter 8 - She Knows

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"You're right. Thanks, Sammy." With a quiet beep, the call ended, returning the older Winchester to the hushed atmosphere with nothing but his thoughts for company. Dean took another deep breath before finally taking the small box in his hand and leaving the Impala. By the time he got up to the wrap-around front porch, his nerves were even worse than before. His finger hovered over the doorbell. "Come on," he muttered to himself. "What's the worst that could happen?" He paused and retracted his finger. "He could say no, that's the worst that could happen."

Dean turned around and headed back to the car. His hand was on the driver's side handle when the weight of the situation kicked in. "This is for Y/N," he had to remind himself. Secretly, Dean was embarrassed by how nervous he was, but then again, who wouldn't be? Your father was tougher and far more protective than his own was, and here he was about to ask him for your hand. He looked up at the house, which, despite its cozy appearance, was incredibly daunting. The front yard was a good size and went remarkably well with the picket-fence style. Dean smiled to himself. He could practically see you running around the yard as a young girl as he recounted stories you had told him of your childhood. He wouldn't mind having a little one that looked like you one day. Dean took yet another deep breath and shoved the ring box in his jacket pocket, stomping back up to the porch before he had time to change his mind. This was something he would not talk himself out of. The doorbell glowed a warm yellow as he pressed his thumb down on it, and as he did so, he heard the welcoming chime echo throughout the inside of the house. When no one answered after a moment, Dean checked his watch. 7:32. He didn't think that was too late. Just as he was about to ring the doorbell again, the front door swung open, revealing a balding man with a hard expression. "Mr. Y/L/N?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, that's me," your father answered.

"I know you don't know me, but my name is Dean Winchester. I work with your daughter." His eyes narrowed, and his expression darkened slightly.

"Is she okay?"

"Oh, she's fine." Your dad nodded, showing his relief, and then stuck his hand out. Dean wasted no time in returning the handshake.

"So, you work with my Y/N, huh?" he asked. "She still hunting those... things?" Dean's eyes widened in surprise. You had never mentioned that your father knew about hunting.

"Yeah, we hunt together," Dean explained. "She never told me you knew what was really out there." He gave a hearty laugh.

"That's because she doesn't know that I know." Your father opened the door all the way, gesturing for Dean to come inside. Immediately after stepping into the main hallway, he was greeted by pictures of you as a child, all the way up to your college graduation. Dean inspected the picture of you holding your diploma with curiosity.

"Holy crap," he marveled. "I didn't know she went to Princeton." Your dad grunted in acknowledgment.

"Don't take it personal, son. Y/N never really talks about college much. Brings up bad memories for her. She dropped out when we lost her mother." Dean placed the picture frame back down on the table, not saying another word. You had told him a couple years ago that your mom was the main reason you had joined the hunt, but he never dared ask questions for fear of upsetting you.

"So, Mr. Y/L/N," Dean said, following your dad into the kitchen. He turned around, grimacing.

"Just call me Roy," he insisted. "People say 'Mr. Y/L/N,' and I look around for my dad." Dean gave a slight nod to show his understanding.

"How did you figure out Y/N was hunting?" Roy laughed, a sound that reverberated pleasantly, and handed Dean a beer.

"Wasn't too hard to figure out. Y/N is my girl," he began. "Her mom and I raised her to be strong and kind. She's good-hearted and tough as nails, but she can't lie for squat." Dean let out a chuckle of his own as he recalled a failed surprise party you had planned for him last year.

"No, she can't," he agreed. Your dad took a swig of his beer.

"Besides," he continued. "I know the signs. Seen all the equipment before. Her mother was a hunter herself." Dean felt his eyes widen.

"Did Y/N know that?" Roy shook his head.

"No." Dean watched the gruff man across from him in disbelief as he tilted the neck of his beer bottle in his direction. "And I'd appreciate it if you kept that bit of information between us. I'd like her to hear that from me. If she ever comes around to see her old man again, that is." Dean took a long drink as he looked around at the house again. He could tell how much your dad loved you by how many pictures of you he had hanging on the walls. One, in particular, caught his eye. You as a child with your mother pushing you on an old wooden swing. Dean smiled to himself. You had told him a few stories of your mother here and there. From what he knew, she had a heart of gold and loved her family more than anything. He wished he could have met her. Both of you were grinning ear to ear in the picture, and you were the spitting image of her. Even as a young girl, you were still drop-dead gorgeous. When he turned his attention back to Roy, he was watching him intently.

"You and Y/N don't just hunt together, do you?" Dean hesitantly shook his head and set the beer down on the table.

"No, sir, we don't." Your dad also placed his beer down with a clink.

"Aw, hell." He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. "All right, son," he said, turning his protective father voice on. "You're here for a reason. What is it?" Dean took a deep breath. Here went nothing. 

"Y/N and I have been dating for a couple years now. The day we met, she saved my sorry ass from a crocotta that had me knocked out cold. When she finally got me to come to, I thought I was in heaven at first because of how damn beautiful she was. She's the kindest woman I've ever met, and she dedicates her life to helping others." Dean watched Roy's face light up at his praises. "Y/N makes me the happiest man in the world, and she helps to make me a better person, too. She never lets me give up, and she saves me from myself when times get grim. I love her with all my heart, and more than I could even begin to put into words. With your blessing..." Dean anxiously took the ring box from his jacket pocket, opening it and setting it on the table. "I'd like to ask your daughter to marry me." Your dad carefully examined the ring, a small smile growing on his face. "And I know what we do is dangerous," Dean went on. "I know marriage sure as hell won't be easy with hunting. But I swear to you that no matter what happens, I will love your daughter, and I'll protect her with my life." Roy examined the ring for a moment before pushing the box back over to Dean.

"You really love her, don't you?" he asked.

"More than anything," Dean answered with a nod. Roy gave a soft chuckle, reaching for his beer again.

"I can tell by how you've been looking at her pictures all night. Your eyes light up, and you're looking at her the same way I used to look at her mother." Dean watched him anxiously as he mulled it over. "And you said you'll protect her?"

"With my life," Dean repeated. After several moments of looking thoughtful, Roy nodded, scratching his chin.

"I won't forget that, Winchester," he informed. "You better take care of my Y/N." Dean looked up at your father, hopefully.

"You mean-" Roy grinned and nodded again.

"You have my blessing." The two men stood from the kitchen table, shaking hands. And when the evening came to an end, your dad only had a few parting words. "You make my daughter happy, you hear?" Dean smiled widely.

"You can count on that," he promised. He headed for the Impala under the dim moonlight.

"Dean?" Dean stopped, turning on his heel. "Have Y/N come out to see her old man soon, would you?" Dean smiled and nodded.

"I will." As Roy closed the front door behind him, Dean could hardly contain his excitement. He snatched his phone from the passenger's seat, redialing his younger brother. It only rang once before he answered.

"Well?" Sam asked. Dean beamed.

"He said yes." He looked at the small ring box in his hand excitedly as Sam cheered and offered his congratulations. You were in for one hell of a surprise.

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Dean handed the phone back to Sam as he started the car.

"You think she'll buy that?" he asked. His younger brother shrugged.

"Sounded pretty believable to me," Sam replied. Dean sighed, frowning at the road.

"But that doesn't mean Y/N will buy it," he worried. "We've known her for seven years, Sammy. I haven't forgotten her birthday once." Sam rolled his eyes.

"I know. You've told me four times already," he muttered softly. Dean shrugged.

"I don't know, man, I just feel bad about this whole thing. Should I at least have told her happy birthday or something?" Sam sighed tiredly.

"No, Dean, that would have ruined the whole surprise." Dean readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, rolling his shoulders.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Of course, I am." Dean smacked his brother in the arm.

"Don't be a cocky douche," he chided.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

You had just begun to doze off when you heard a clamor. Your drowsiness was gone entirely as you got to your feet, gun in hand. You knew for a fact it wasn't the Winchesters because Dean had already told you they'd be gone for the night. You chambered a bullet as quietly as you could, and reached for your doorknob. The bunker's hallway lights were still on, which you couldn't decide was a good sign or a bad one. Another clatter from your right caught your attention, and you turned.

"Dude, you suck!" someone exclaimed, followed by a shush. You frowned. That was definitely Dean's voice. Thoroughly confused, you lowered your gun to your side.

"Dean?" you called. "I thought you wouldn't be back until tomorrow." You turned into the library, met with a sheepish-looking Sam, and a grinning Dean.

"Happy birthday!" Sam exclaimed, lifting you from the floor, making you squeal. They hadn’t forgotten about your birthday at all. They just hadn’t said anything so they could surprise you. They had gone to all this trouble for you. You were touched.

"Thank you, Moose," you laughed, ruffling his hair affectionately. Dean gave you his signature grin, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Happy birthday, baby." You smiled widely back at him and threw yourself into his arms.

"Thank you."

"Want to see what I got you?" he murmured into your hair. You drew back, frowning slightly.

"Dee, you didn't have to get me anything. You know that." Dean nodded.

"I know," he agreed. "But, I wanted to." Sam came around to stand behind you.

"All right, lay it on me." Sam covered your eyes with a blindfold, and you instantly flinched. "Um..?" Dean's lips pressed against your forehead tenderly.

"Trust me." You sighed in defeat, nodding. The second after you nodded, Sam tossed you over his shoulder with ease, earning sounds of protest from you. It was unsettling not being able to see where you were being taken. Although you trusted these boys with your life, being blindfolded wasn't exactly something you were accustomed to.

"Do I really have to be blindfolded for this?" you complained. Dean laughed.

"You'll love it, trust me," he promised. Sam placed you down in a sitting position, and you felt Dean's bed beneath you.

"Um..?" You let out the same sound you had earlier, utterly confused. "Does this present involve something of sexual context?" Dean laughed loudly, and Sam groaned.

"Thanks for that mental image, Y/N." A smile formed on your lips.

"Sorry," you apologized, chuckling.

"Okay, Sammy, now," Dean instructed. The blindfold was removed from your eyes, and you had to blink to adjust to the lighting. The usual glow of light was replaced by a dim flickering of candles all around. Your hand grasped something satiny, and you looked down to see rose petals on the bed. You grinned up at Dean.

"What's this?" you asked. Sam pressed a kiss to the top of your head and stepped into the background. You looked at Dean, still slightly confused. "Dean?" He cleared his throat, looking nervous.

"Y/N, I know you didn't trust me when we first met."

"I thought you were the werewolf I was hunting," you put in. Dean smiled softly.

"But after we got that part cleared up, Sam and I asked you to come with us. When you said yes, I really didn't have any idea what I was in for." A look of pure adoration came into his eyes as he gazed at you. "Y/N, I fell for you hard. I didn't know it was possible to fall in love with someone so fast. These four years we've been together have been the best of my life. You make me laugh, you make me smile all the time, and you make me the happiest damn man alive. You're an amazing woman. You're my best friend. You're my soulmate." Your heart began to beat faster as you realized where this was headed. "Y/N, I love you. And I know being with me for the rest of our lives won't be easy - especially with what we do. But I know it would make the both of us a hell of a lot happier all the time. So if you'll have me..." Dean knelt at your feet, pulling a small box from his jacket pocket. When he opened it, there was a modest but beautiful ring. "Will you marry me?" Tears welled up in your eyes, and your hand flew to your mouth as you stood.

"Yes!" Dean's face instantly lit up at the word. "Yes, of course, I'll marry you!" He gently took your hand in his and slid the ring onto your finger. Dean stood and pulled you tightly to him. Tears poured down your face, and he wiped them away.

"I love you so much," he whispered in your ear. Your throat tightened with emotion.

"I love you too." You grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his face down to yours. Dean pressed his lips firmly against your own, the kiss warm and tender. You sat down on his bed again and pulled him over to you. Dean pushed you down gently, and you felt your back touch his comforter. Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Um... I'm gonna give you guys some privacy." Dean laughed against your mouth, and you heard the door close. With Sam gone, the two of you proceeded to enjoy your time as an engaged couple. And would the married life as hunters be difficult? Of course. But as long as you had Dean by your side, there was no doubt in your mind you would make it work.

This one was really so much fun to write, and I think it turned out really well!

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