#the protection program

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I may have exaggerated when I said I'd prefer to get kidnapped, drugged, and assaulted all over again instead of spending another miserable second under another program like that, but also, it clearly didn't work in keeping me safe, so what was the point. 

I ended up getting to go home, but I was required to keep bodyguards stationed outside my apartment complex, and Dean was pretty adamant about keeping routine check-ins with me. So much so that he took residence in my guest room for the remainder of his stay in the city.

It's not like we hadn't practically lived under the same roof at some point already, and truthfully, I felt bad that he had to stay at a dingy motel. A bonus was I felt safer in my place.

We ended up discussing the new knowledge I found about his father shortly after the arrest of Michael, Ramone, and Bella. 

He was shocked, and it took him time to acknowledge that the Delucas had affected him this long without him knowing, but we bonded over it and had a good conversation about it all.

I didn't blame his father for the downfall of my own, even if he apologized profusely on his end. If there was something Michael and Ramone had told the truth about, it was the fact that my father made his choice that night. No one asked him to jump in front of that bullet, yet he had. 

Dean's father had even jumped in to try and save him after the initial shot, which put him in a compromised position. 

"We can be pissed about the choices people decide on, but there's nothing we can do to go back and change them or the outcome they came to," I had told him when he tried to reason with why it had to come to an end it did with our two stubborn father figures. 

After that, something new clicked in our relationship, and we understood each other in ways we never expected to.

Speaking of relationships, we didn't jump into anything immediately. We took things slow and got to know each other outside of the constant stress of danger hovering over us 24/7.

He would bring me dinner or breakfast on days when I struggled to leave the office or got around too late to take care of it myself. 

We started sharing TV series with each other and switching nights that we would watch them and binge them together. He made popcorn on the stove almost every time it was a movie night, and I made sure to supply the candy. 

When our routines started fitting into each other, he finally got the courage to ask me on a date, and we both learned that it felt like a final puzzle piece being put in its perfect spot. 

The lingering stares turned into eye contact we didn't want to break. Our subtle motions to touch each other no longer had a barrier, and we lost all reasons to hold back now. I was never a texter before, but if Dean's name was popping up on my screen, a smile almost always broke out on my face. 

Over six months of dating and counting at this point, and I don't know how much of my life I was actually living up to this point until I stepped into this new chapter of my life. 

"OK, ladies, go ahead and stretch some before we get started," I instructed the group of women in the small training room that the precinct had. "We'll review some basic self-defense moves from last week in about five minutes," I forewarned, moving to find a playlist for the training while they warmed up.

After talking with Pam about the multiple times I had to fight off some dick at a bar or creep on the street, I thought about all the girls who have to worry about that just as often. 

I was lucky to be a trained professional when I was kidnapped, but it got me thinking about all the girls who had and could find themselves in just as dangerous and scary situations and didn't know how to outwit and maneuver an attacker. 

So, with the help and support from Captain Singer, I started a self-defense class held twice a week for anyone who felt they wanted or needed to learn combat tactics. Each class had different age ranges to make sure the attendees had training specific to them. 

I decided on one of my curated classic rock playlists for our session, and before I could turn back to the class, I felt firm hands snake around my waist. Usually, I would react accordingly and end up hurting someone, but I recognized those hands.

"Nice taste in music," a man's deep voice whispered in my ear before he nibbled at it. AC/DC started a guitar riff in the background.

"You like it? You'll have to ask my boyfriend for a copy of it," I hummed, falling into his touch.

"Is that so?" he played along. "He must be one lucky man to have a woman who looks that good in those pants," he said, pulling my flush to him, showing his attraction to me in those tight-ass slacks he wore.

"Dean," I grumbled under my breath. "You can't do this right before I start the lesson. I'm supposed to be all hot after the session," I groaned as he swayed his hips with mine and kissed the sensitive spot on my neck he knew made me weak in the knees.

"Think you can sneak away for a quickie in the janitor's closet?" he said lowly in my ear, his hands squeezing my hips again to get a jerk out of me. 

"Dean…" I dragged out, turning to face him and distance myself some, only to see those beautiful green eyes roaming up and down my figure. "I mean it. I need to teach this class," I bartered, putting my hands on his shoulders to estrange him a few inches. 

"For the record, your bossiness doesn't help this situation," he hummed, biting his lip as he looked at mine and pulled me back to him. My chest fell flush against his own, and the smirk on his lips was compelling. 

"No, not the lip thing!" I instantly put a finger over his lips, making his attention snap back to my eyes. "I'll be done in an hour, and then I'm headed home. Think you can wait that long?"

"No," he said without any hesitation.

"Dean..."

"Y/N..." he retorted. 

When I was unsuccessful in hiding my growing smile at his banter, something I had learned to love about him, he started bending down with a look ready to devour me. 

Before his lips could meet mine, I heard a slight cough and noticed a good chunk of my trainees looking at us as the touch-starved teenagers at the mall we were exhibiting, all with their own playful smirks on their lips.

I stopped Dean's motion forward with my hand firmly on his chest.

"Sorry, ladies!" I shouted, getting a giggle from the group. "Dean was just leaving," I said playfully, nudging him. 

"Actually, I was," he started, and I knew he was about to say something stupid, so I slapped his chest hard with the hand still on it. "Right," he said, almost saddened by the single hour he would have to wait for me to be home. 

"Wait, can you use him as your example?" one girl shouted toward the back. All the other girls nodded and agreed.

I could see fluttering of eyelashes and blushed cheeks in the crowd. I don't blame them. Dean was a man to fawn over. I still did it daily, and we'd been together for close to seven months now. 

I chuckled at the reaction of my class and played into their suggestion.

"What kind of example are we talking about?"

"You know that one move we did the other day? The one where the guy has you pinned on the ground, and you have to get out of the hold," an older woman asked.

"I know the one," I smiled, thinking back to the tactic I had brought up after reviewing some of my stories of attacks.

"Which one?" Dean questioned, looking back at me perplexed.

"I think you'll love it," I smiled slyly, and I could see a form of fear peak in his eyes. 

"That tone doesn't seem to match your words," he looked at me nervously with furrowed eyebrows. 

"Relax," I patted his shoulder and leaned up to whisper in his ear softly, "it involves you on top of me." 

"Don't have to tell me twice," he smiled happily and clapped his hands together before turning to the class. "Let's do it, ladies."  

"Take off your coat, sweetheart," I said extra sweetly, getting a concerned look from him as he did as asked. 

"What else am I about to sign up for-?"

"OK, ladies," I interrupted, stepping slightly before him to start the lesson. "This move is useful if you are being pinned by someone bigger than you. Remember, it doesn't matter if he is stronger; it's all about your speed, precision, and timing. And if you get the technique right, you'll throw him off. Those things will save you in most situations, but this one specifically. You don't want him to be able to detect your next move."

I moved to lay on the ground on my back, and once I was settled, I motioned Dean down to me.

"OK, Dean, sit on top of me and straddle my hips," I told him, motioning to the spot I was talking about.

"With pleasure," he smirked, pushing the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows after unbuttoning them. In a hurry, he moved into the position I instructed.

"Now, pin my hands above my head," I counseled, smiling up at him.

"Kinky," he said quietly and smiled with a wink.

"Shut up," I laughed, raising my knee to hit him in the back of his thigh. I turned toward the group that was surrounding us and gave the next steps. "OK, so I'm going to do this in real-time so you can see how it goes, then we will do a step-by-step." They nodded. "OK, watch closely. The number one thing is to-"

Before any preparation could be done on Dean's end, I bucked my hips to push Dean forward, where he, on basic instinct, braced himself for the fall. Then, I did the following steps to move to the top and swap positions with him. Now, I was the one doing the straddling, and he was pinned under me. 

"Catch him off guard," I smiled at him first and then to the class.

"Shit," Dean huffed, catching his breath from the quick action. 

I leaned down while the class murmured about the steps, both of my hands placed in the center of his chest. My lips almost touched his ear as I whispered, "Don't act like you don't like that kind of move in the bedroom." 

Again, his hands were back on my waist, keeping my weight on his hips. 

"That was evil." 

"Oh, you haven't seen evil, Ranger," I rose up and winked at him before he had a chance to stop me. "OK, we are going to go through that a few more times in slow motion, and then you and your partners will try it on the mats. Sound good?" 

They all nodded, and I continued the lesson until Dean was rightfully sexually frustrated, and I learned I'd pay for it once we got home...

______

A week later, Dean and I headed off on our long-planned vacation. My grandparent's lake house. 

It was the one I had grown up in, and I was nervous my memories would be tainted after the safe house. It was a trial I was willing to face, though, now that life was going smoother for once, and I wanted to move forward. I was no longer going back. 

We ended up making a whole week's worth out of it. I had convinced Dean to give flying a try, but it really didn't take as much strain from my end as I thought I'd have to give. Not that I would force him to do it if he really didn't want to, but he agreed after I mentioned that a drive would be a little too long for me. 

"I'll fly under one condition," he pointed out, pulling me into an embrace where his chin rested on my head.

"That being?" 

"You can't let it crash," he mumbled into my hair, squeezing me closer. 

"I don't really have control over that, Dean," I mumbled back into his chest, where my face was currently being suffocated in his musky cologne. Not a bad way to die. 

"Can we just act like you do so that I feel like we have some kind of control over the damn metal bird?" he begged. 

"We can watch all the videos that made flying easier for me," I offered, pulling my head out enough to look up at him, still wrapped in his embrace. 

"What videos?"

"How turbulence works and the likelihood of certain things going wrong." 

"That sounds terrifying and not helpful at all."

"But everything is a super low risk. It's less scary when you know how something works AND how unlikely things will go wrong." 

"It sounds like you're jinxing it." 

"We don't have to do it, you know? I don't want to make you if you're that uncomfortable. A drive could be fun," I smiled at him, knowing he was doing it to make me happy, but I loved him just as much not to put him through that.

"No, I'm going to overcome my fear this time," he shook his head, tucking me back under his chin. "It's about damn time. Plus, I want more days at the lake house, and if we drive, I have to take 2-3 of those days off for being on the road."

Dean did end up overcoming his fear, for the most part, at least. He still wasn't a fan, but compared to where he started, he was willing to do a flight again. A shorter one, preferably, but fly another time either way.

Currently, I was on the back porch enjoying the cool breeze with a light blanket wrapped around my shoulders while watching the sunset in the distance. I closed my eyes and took in the sounds and smells around me. The birds chirped, and the subtle smell of salt came from the lake. 

While soaking up the fact that my grandparent's sanctuary hadn't changed even after my trauma, Dean's hands came around my shoulders and pulled my back against his chest.

"This place is beautiful," he hummed as he placed his chin on my head, a motion that had become our comfort position. Me in his embrace, protected by him, and him knowing I wasn't going far while in his arms. 

"I'm thankful that my family has this place to escape to still. When my Pops and Nana said they were downsizing, I was worried they'd sell the place. We'd have to say bye to all the memories and stories connected to it. But, they ended up keeping it as a family lake house for any and all the cousins and aunts to visit when they wanted," I gleamed at the pure joy tied to this place, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air.

"I'm happy they kept it around," he hummed, pulling me even closer to him. 

"Me too..." 

We stood in silence, looking over the lake's glistening burst of waves from the subtle push from the wind.

He had put on some classic rock songs in the background, but I heard the soft tones of ballads overpower the usual guitar riffs. 

It was calming and felt like a slice of heaven after so long of feeling like I was in a purgatory. I could breathe finally, and I had someone next to me that made me feel safer than I ever had. It was a peace I never knew existed before I had met him. 

"I love you," he dipped to kiss the top of my head as he said it. 

"I love you too," I replied with a smile, even though we had said it time and time again. Though the feelings it provoked never got old. 

"Can I ask you a question?" he hummed, letting me go slightly just to move me toward the chairs on the patio. 

"Shoot," I replied as I took the redirection. 

We sat on one of the loungers on the deck that peeked out on the patio before dropping to the open land that led to the lake. Dean sat first and took the blanket from around me before pulling me down to where I was positioned with my back pressed to his chest and body in between his legs. Sandwiched in a position where he brought the blanket around his own shoulders and then encased me in an embrace from behind, barricading warmth around us. 

"Is this something you'd like eventually?" he asked once we were situated. 

"The lakehouse?" I asked. 

He nodded as we slouched in our position, and he moved his chin to my shoulder. I loved when he did that, and he knew it. I leaned my head on him as we continued our gaze into the picturesque state of nature we were in. 

"Could be a lakehouse," he hummed, and I could feel the muscles in his face turn to a smile. "Could be a house in the suburbs, could be a cabin, could be a cottage. Maybe even a Ranch." 

"What are you getting at, Dean?" I chuckled when I saw him drift off into the daydreaming fiend I had learned he was. 

"I'm asking if a house is ever in your life plan," he simplified. 

"Why? Do you not like the apartment?" I asked nervously, turning to look at him, and he sat up again. 

"No, it's not that," he chuckled, and my burst of nerves dissipated. "But is an apartment all you see yourself in from here on out?" 

"Are you asking if I'd move out of the city?" I started to pick up on what he was putting down. 

"Yes." 

I paused because I thought I knew the answer, but with where we were and the pure happiness of being in a place like this, so open and quiet, I realized I probably was ready to move on. 

I had only lived in this city so long because of my family. First, from moving there for my grandparents, and more recently, to bring an end to the crime family that I declared to ruin my life. 

I guess leaving anytime soon never occurred to me because of everything I was connected to up there. Plus, my friends and Bobby were there. Leaving them would hurt, but it wasn't something that would be lost entirely. 

"Have you?" I asked Dean, trying to get an idea of where his mind was at on the question. 

"I think coming back down to a town and landscape where I'm a little more comfortable made me miss a few things." He moved the chair to lean back more, and I fell back further into his embrace as we angled more up to the sky. "Don't get to see stars when the sun is still slightly up in the city like this. And give it 20 more minutes to see the real magic." 

"You miss it?" I asked, nervous he was regretting moving to the city with me. 

"Yeah, but if it's not with you, I don't really care." 

He said it so simply, like there wasn't much to think about, and I could feel my heart attempt to burst through my chest. 

"You mean that?" I asked, turning just enough to look up at him behind me.

"I'd be stupid if I didn't." he smiled down at me and studied my face at this angle before smiling bigger. "But a piece of me thinks you'd be more content in a place like this than a shoebox in New York. It wouldn't be right of me not to at least remind you that this can still be an option. I mean, I see the peace in your eyes, and we've only been here for an hour." 

It was true. I had said it many times before but never really thought about playing it out. I always declared Texas my home, mainly because of this lakehouse and the memories tied to it. 

"Can I tell you something?" I spoke up after a second of silence. 

"Always," he nodded, laying back in his relaxed position. 

"I secretly look up houses on Zillow when I'm bored just to see what options are out there," I admitted. 

It wasn't a dirty secret, but I hadn't really told anyone about it or my reasonings. I just saw it as a fun side interest of exploring places I had yet to go. Though, now that I think about it, it may have been my subconscious mind being curious as to where I would escape one day. 

"I know," Dean said back, and I was surprised since I hadn't done it around him or showed him anything from it. 

"You know?" 

"Duh," he said jokingly, nudging me under the blanket. "I'm an FBI agent. I happen to pick up on clues pretty fast." 

"I'm a detective. I know a million and one ways to hide those things," I retorted. 

"You left a tab open on your computer, and when I went to look up a dinner recipe one night, I saw all your saved homes." 

Damn my problem of opening twenty million tabs and forgetting to close the secret ones.  

"You're a snoop." 

"It is in my job description." 

He pinched my side, getting a yelp from me before I laughed and playfully slapped his hands, moving down to my waist. 

"And because I'm so good at my job," he continued. "I noticed that you had about three houses within a 30-mile radius of this place." 

I sunk back into him more at the comment. It was true. In planning our trip down here, I got curious about the houses that would be an hour's drive at most from my family home. 

A family home that my cousins and extended family still visited. Family members I missed dearly and hadn't seen in years but had done my best to keep up with. 

Parts of my life that were still happy and not tainted by crime lords and mob bosses. 

"I can practically hear the gears in your brain kicking into overdrive, but I bring it all because I wanted to let you know," he paused, and I felt his finger dip under my chin, moving my gaze back to him. "I'm all in. Whatever you want, I'll help you get you there." 

My features must have shown something that scared him, and his loving eyes turned nervous and freaked out. 

"Oh, God," he quickly moved me so he could see me better. "I didn't want you to cry. I just wanted to make sure you choose whatever made you happier." The pads of his thumbs brushed my cheeks urgently yet softly. My lip quivered now. "Jesus, sweetheart, you're breaking my heart and freaking me out all at the same time. Tell me what's wrong. I didn't mean to stress you out." 

"I'm not stressed," I spoke up, letting out a small laugh. "God, you're too good of a man for me," I started wiping my growing tears of pure joy away. 

"Not nearly good enough," he mumbled, pulling me back the few inches I had sat up away from him. 

"Dean, people write romance books about you," I huffed, laying more sideways and placing the side of my face on his chest. 

"I have been told I give off the Fabio looks," he playfully flipped his hair, relaxing with my answers now. 

"That you do," I chuckled, patting his chest. "But you somehow knew what I needed before I did, and I-" I hesitated because it was true, and that should have scared me, but it didn't. "I've always had to think of my next step. I always have had to look out for myself, and even then, I failed myself a lot of times. Having someone see the problems and anxieties you could be setting yourself up for is something I never thought existed."

I could hear his heart race and brought my arms around him to hug him closer. He did the same. 

"It's funny how we started off," I muffled with a smile in his Henley. 

"You drove me up a wall, but I liked it," he laughed.

"I was extremely pissed off by you," I shrugged. 

"I liked that too."

"Of course you did." 

"Eh, look at us now," he looked up at the sky, and the last bits of light from the sun were fading with soft oranges and purples. The stars grew in brightness. 

"Did you like the houses?" I asked, digging back into his original question.

"Yeah, that's the next part of my question," he took a deep breath, and my upper half raised and lowered with his chest. "I may or may not have looked more into them and set up showing times while we're here." 

I sprung from my laid-back position and looked down on him. 

"Showing times, like showing their house to us as potential buyers, showing times?" I asked, and I could still see his handsome smile in the low lights of the night. 

"I mean, you don't have to be a potential buyer every time. You can just look to look out of sheer interest," he shrugged, watching me as he stayed laid back casually.

I looked at him in shock. 

"Was that a bad move on my part? I can't really tell right now," he spoke up uneasily after a moment. 

"It was a really thoughtful move," I shook my head. 

"No buts?" 

"No buts." 

"So you think you want to see them this week? I have two lined up on Wednesday and one tomorrow. But I can cancel if you don't want to. Just let me know," he rushed out, a huge grin on his face. 

"Dean, is this something you want though?" I asked carefully. 

We had moved in with each other pretty soon. But that was different than buying a whole house together. It was a completely different scenario than before when his shelter was either a roach-infested motel or my guest room. 

But this was a big step, and from how Dean put it, he wanted in on the deal, too. This was asking about the next step. 

"Of course," he nodded, sitting up now, grabbing my wrist gently, and placing both my hands on his chest. The motion proved that he was certain as his heart had slowed and he steadied. 

He had thought about this and was settled in his decision. That made me feel better. 

"Me and the house, right?" I clarified. 

"It can be your house if you want, but I wouldn't be mad about it being our house," he leaned forward, inches from placing his lips on mine, but patiently waited for a reply. "I think I'd make a handsome trophy husband," he looked up at me for a few seconds before back at my lips. "What do you say?" 

I didn't have to think about it, really. I was happy and settled myself. 

"I think we have some house hunting to do and that we need to come to a consense on what kind of dog we're going to get," I answered, and he closed the gap to give me a heated kiss. 

When we finally broke apart, he looked at me and said, "We're getting a dog?" in more of a questionable statement. 

"I always told myself that as soon as I get a house of my own, I'm getting a dog," I nodded. "So yes. It is a dealbreaker."

"No deal I want to break," he smiled again and leaned back in for another kiss. 

He was sweet and passionate about it, and his hands found their way to my cheeks before he pulled away enough to brush my nose with his. 

"I love you very much, Y/N Knight," he grinned, looking back and forth between my eyes. 

"I love you too, Dean Winchester." 

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I shifted just enough to not draw attention to myself and readjust some in the cramped position I had been put in alongside the door. Looking out the window, I saw the never-ending woods I had been covered by the past month, but I didn't know if I was in the same or a new treeline.

It was hard to tell if we were headed north, south, east, or west, considering there was no sun to guide us in our direction. The night had finally claimed the sky, and it was too dark to make out a location.

I shifted my gaze to my wrist, noticing a cool touch to them.

Handcuffs. Stuck in the backseat of an SUV, I was still reeling from whatever drugs I had been roofied with.

Slowly, pieces of the last few hours started coming back to me.

Pam and I had been talking about bad dates. Dean woke up and got a call. He, Castiel, and Benny were out the door minutes after that when they had intel that the rat had been caught. Gadreel came in after being outside, conveniently out of sight when the call came through. He made Pam and me tea, and less than 15 minutes later; I was using all my strength to pull myself to the dresser that held the gun Pam had hidden for me and failed.

Now we were here...

I moved to sit up more, but the movement pulled a grunt out of me from the rush sent to my head, causing splintering pain.

"You're up," Gadreel stated, looking in the rearview mirror and making eye contact. "Those drugs should have lasted another hour," he mumbled.

Of course, they didn't work as well as he wanted. I took medication every night to will my body to sleep, and after over 10 years of high prescription-level drugs, I had built an immunity to these types of things. That's probably the only pro to insomnia in this scenario.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed at the man as I looked out the window, avoiding eye contact, reeling from the anger that he had been under our noses the entire time.

"The whole time?" I grumbled after a few long and straining seconds passed.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. You seem like a nice girl, but," he paused and took a shaky breath. "I had to do this, okay?"

I had no clue what he meant by that, but something in his voice told me he was telling the truth even if I didn't want to believe it.

"People have choices," I retorted. "I'll tell you right now, this isn't the best one to make."

"You're understandably upset," he said softly. Upset was putting it very lightly. "But the only other option wasn't one I was willing to risk."

I turned my attention back to his eyes in the mirror, though he was now focused on the gravel road ahead.

"They threatened someone I love," he said simply, not going into more detail. My eyes shifted from aggravation to concern. "The two options they gave me were to bring you to them, or they would have sent a group to swarm the safe house. I figured this way, you would have had a better chance."

"How's me on my own better than a group of agents trained in this at my side?" I countered, not seeing his logic, and the anger returned in my voice.

"There would have been an ambush that no one would have been prepared for. Pam, Dean, Castiel, Benny, and anyone else on the property would have been killed. They wouldn't tell me when and who we would be going against. In that case, I would have told you all, or I would have favored that choice over this one," he said, still ashamed.

I took in the information as I knew he was right, no matter how badly I wanted him to be wrong. This wasn't the DeLuca's first rodeo. They loved using others to gamble.

Gadreel was right. If he had allowed them to invade the safe house, they wouldn't have given him a single clue as to how and when they'd do it. He'd be in just as much danger as the rest. In this case, everyone was safe except me, of course, but I was never really safe to begin with.

I added the pieces of his plan together.

"The tip-off. The reason the guys ran to the station..."

"Kept them at a distance in case the Deluca's went back on their promise and left you more vulnerable to get you here," he explained what I already had concluded.

"Who did you throw under the bus?" I asked, wondering who would take the fall when he was the real insider of the whole operation.

"Some detective that was working your case. One of the few other people that knew of your whereabouts but never actually came to guard for you," he answered. "Don't worry. They won't have enough on him to pin him and will find out he's clear, but it acted as the distraction I needed."

Anger and irritation were hard to lose at this point. Still, I was starting to see that he had taken more routes to ensure others were safe, given the dangerous scenario.

A piece of me was relieved to know that he wasn't a bad guy at heart. He had been protecting me during my stay, but something had been hung over his head that brought him to this point either way.

"What are they threatening you with?" I asked, shifting to sit as comfortably as possible with my hands locked in a metal trap and my head and vision swimming.

I could hear him take a shallow breath, and then a subtle gulp followed.

"Katie, my daughter. They have her," he answered, his voice shaking with a clear tone of fear. "At first, it was just threats to get information on you. They only followed through with the threats once I told them I wouldn't take you to them. T-They took her. Last night. Her mom called in a panic, and then I got the call from them saying it was my last chance to follow through, and if I didn't..."

"I'm sorry," I said, cutting off where I knew his mind was already venturing too.

The DeLucas were consistent with many things in their line of work. Following through with threats and scaring you shitless with what they were capable of were two of those things.

"They said they would keep her until I brought you to them."

I let out a long sigh and slouched in my spot after taking in all the new information.

"Shit," I sighed under my breath.

His reasons were understanding, and my high levels of pure rage could no longer be pointed toward him. He was doing what any good father would for their child.

"What about Pam? Did you give her the same thing you gave me?" I asked, worried about my friend who had been collateral in all this.

"She'll be ok. I put the same amount of Rohypnol in her drink, so she should wake up in about an hour if she doesn't have the same immunity as you," he answered. His blue eyes found mine again in the mirror. "I'm sorry. I really am. If I could've done anything else- If there were better options, I would have taken them. "

"Don't, Gadreel. They have your daughter, and you're doing everything right given the situation," I turned to him.

For any other reason, I would have beaten him to a pulp and made it to where he could never walk again, but with an innocent child at stake, that wasn't something I was considering anymore.

"I'm scared they're going to hurt her," he admitted after a few seconds of silence.

I took a second to wrap my head around a plan. Given my occupation, I was quick with these types of things, and given my history with this family, I knew how they worked.

"Lucky for you, you kidnapped the one person who may be able to help you with this," I shrugged, hating and loving at the same time that I had the wisdom I did with this family. "Now that we're on the same page, we need to devise a plan."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, once you get your daughter out of there, we need to create a plan to get Dean and the cops in the loop of all this. If I know the DeLucas, they told you to bring me to a place out in a field not many are planning on passing by. Am I right?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"The DeLucas and I go further back than some of those files we've been studying. I know how they work." He nodded, and I could see some kind of hope in his eyes. "I think I have an idea of where to start."

__

As the mob family instructed, we arrived at an abandoned warehouse in the middle of a field covered by trees much like the ones I had been sanctioned by the last month.

"Typical," I muttered under my breath as Gadreel parked.

It looked crummy and unkept on the outside, but I knew the inside would fit the high-income family much more. As cliche of a spot it was, it did well at not drawing attention, and that's rule number one of the secret hideouts.

As we made our way through a dusty, dark, and muggy hall after coming through a side door hidden by heaps of standard warehouse equipment, we came upon two giant doors.

Gadreel knocked with one hand, and the other was wrapped around my forearm. I told him to sell it as best as possible, that I was coming against my will. It would benefit us more for the plan.

I had to put on a show if we wanted them to believe I had no idea what was happening. Once the doors opened, two guards stood tall and prominent in the way.

"Name," one of them stated burly and impatiently.

"Gadreel Watcher. I have Y/N Knight like Mr. DeLuca wanted," he confirmed.

The guards exchanged a look, and one moved to the side. "Follow me," he nodded his head back and walked down a different hall.

Gadreel pulled my arm, and I faked a struggle to pass off the theatrics.

Eventually, I found myself in a large living space with high ceilings for an underground lair. It had beautiful, expensive, and vintage-like furniture all around, with paintings that were famously known hung on the walls. A glistening crystal chandelier was hanging above, and a large bar took up a corner of the room.

"Wait here," the man said, grunting as he nodded his chin toward the space and inched in on us to push us further inside.

Gadreel nodded, and we looked at each other as soon as the guard left. He had a slight sweat on his forehead, and I could tell he was intimidated.

"Deep breaths. Everything is going to be fine," I coached him.

He looked down at me and nodded hesitantly as he took practiced breaths. Seconds later, the door from the back of the room opened ominously.

Gadreel adjusted his grip on me and spun around to where I was facing the new person in the room.

"Detective Knight. What a strange ring to it that has?" The man was tall, around 6'2. Age, if I had to guess, was close to my own.

He had a scruff on his face that was nicely maintained, hazel eyes, and handsomely styled chestnut brown hair. He wore an expensive tailored suit that perfectly fit what I'm sure was a toned physique with how he strutted. He was handsome, yes, but an enemy nonetheless.

"No shock in itself that you grew up to be quite the eye-catcher. I mean, come on," he stalked his eyes over me like a predator sizing up his dinner.

I sent him a hard glare as he looked me over. I could feel a sense of familiarity with this man, but I couldn't pinpoint how.

"I brought her. We had a deal. Where's my daughter?" Gadreel gritted.

"What, Y/N/N? Don't recognize me," the man hummed with pleasure at the thought of my discomfort, ignoring Gadreel's disheveled state. "You weren't the only one who grew up and blossomed," he said, getting closer.

I continued to be silent and glared at him. I wasn't up for playing games, so as he approached me and towered over me, a power move most men thought intimidated women, I didn't budge.

Much like Gadreel, my mind was worried about ensuring his daughter was safe before I messed up and said something to piss the man in front of me off.

Yet that is...

"Fine. Don't talk. We have plenty of things to catch up on shortly, all that I'm sure you'll want to speak up on," the man spit out, towering over me for a few more seconds before putting his hands behind his back and turning his attention to the man next to me. "Gadreel, you did well. I'm impressed you were able to get this minx to us without any trouble," he said, walking to the bar cart behind the couch instead of the fully stocked bar ten feet further. "Adam," he shouted towards the door.

They opened, and a sandy blonde-haired and blue-eyed man walked in. He wasn't especially beefed up, but with the right moves, I'm sure he could fight.

"Would you mind bringing Mr. Watcher's payment in," he smiled devilishly. Adam nodded and turned down the hall, disappearing for a minute. "Now, take a seat," the tailored brunette instructed, motioning to the couch beside him before moving in front of an oversized single chair, diagonal from it, drink in hand, but not yet sitting down himself.

"I'm perfectly fine where I am, thank you," I replied with a cold demeanor.

"Hmm, never have you been great at taking orders, have you?" he hummed in a playful way, but his hard stare made a shiver fall down my back. "I can only imagine it's gotten worse with time. Given that stubborn brain of yours," he tilted his head, studying me more and raking his eyes over my body again.

I didn't like the attention one bit.

I wanted to shout at him to bring Gadreel's daughter and let him go, but if I did, he might pick up on our teamwork in this situation.

"Screw you," I mumbled under my breath, but he heard me, and he smirked at the comment.

"Don't threaten things you don't plan on following through with." The pure rage this man was pulling out of me was making it hard to bite my tongue. "Such fire in this one, am I right? I can't imagine how much of a struggle you had getting her tied up and thrown in the car," he circled the chair, sitting at an angle on the back upholstery and squaring his shoulders toward Gadreel.

Neither of us budged or gave him an ounce of the reaction he hoped for, eliciting an eye roll from him.

"Ugh, you two aren't fun," he pouted, taking a long pull from his tumbler. "Come on and sit down, Y/N/N. I'd rather not ask again."

I stayed rooted in my spot and kept an unphased look toward him. That only pissed him off more, and he blinked slowly before moving his hand to the front of his suit jacket, moving it to the side, showing a gun handle in his waistband.

"Please, don't make me ask again," he emphasized hard on the please, though there was no sign of politeness in the query.

As stubborn as I was, I wasn't stupid. I didn't want to get firearms involved as long as Katie was still captured.

He motioned for Gadreel to guide me over, and I kept my face stone cold as I maneuvered around the arm of the couch with Gadreel holding my arm.

"You can release her of those restraints, Mr. Watcher. We won't be needing them, now will we Y/N?" I didn't answer and looked away as Gadreel bent down to unlock the metal shackles. "That is as long as you behave. If not, then I have a pair of my own that I would love to use if tempted correctly," he grinned wickedly, and I shot him a stare that raised his eyebrows in a boast.

Once I felt the cold metal no longer digging into my wrists, I rubbed the raw spots that had formed under them. Hesitantly, I sat in the middle of the couch and watched as he confidently moved to sit next to me, taking advantage of being in charge of this situation.

As he got comfortable, the butt of the gun pushed into his abdomen. He straightened, pulling it out of his waistband, and, without any care for the repercussions, placed it on the end table next to him.

Dumb move. It would be easy access for me if given the opportunity, and with my experience, I'd find the opportunity.

"Not going to happen, dollface," he tutted. "I know what you're thinking, but don't be cocky. You're forgetting who taught you most of your strategies," he smirked.

It hit me like a freight train whose brakes had gone out. How did it take me this long to pick up on it? The chestnut brown hair was slightly lighter than I remembered, but the hazel eyes were just as devious and alluring as all the years before. His physic was much broader, but he had the same little scar above his eyebrow that I had witnessed him obtain. The beard was new, and it definitely brought a new look to his entirely changed attire and aesthetic.

I had known the flannel-wearing, rambunctious, trouble-finding teen. This was no longer a boy looking for trouble but a man who now created that trouble.

"Michael," I breathed out in almost a whisper.

"Took you long enough, Angel," he grinned happily, throwing his arm behind the couch and brushing his fingertips along my shoulder on the way. The nickname hit like bricks at the memories that surfaced with it. "Can't lie and say it didn't hurt a little when you didn't recognize your first love quicker than that," he reached out to move my hair out of my face.

Luckily, before he could touch me in any intimate way, the doors opened again, and he turned his attention to the distraction of who was interrupting him.

"Here she is, sir," Adam said, following behind a little girl with light brown hair and scared blue eyes that mimicked her father's.

"Katie bug!" Gadreel shouted, running after her and quickly scooping her into his arms.

My instinct was to stand to be in a less vulnerable spot, but before I could get far, Michael's hand shoved me down harshly by my shoulder.

"Stay," he warned with a pointed look I knew all too well and moved around the couch to go over to Gadreel.

"Are you ok, baby? Did they hurt you?" Gadreel asked nervously, holding his little girl, who was squeezing a teddy bear close to her. She shook her head, not really clarifying what question she was answering, and burrowed back into him.

"Now, I may not be a saint, but I would never harm an innocent child," Michael announced, buttoning his suit.

I noticed he said innocent child instead of just a child and knew that the DeLucas weren't nearly as merciful as he was trying to pass off.

"I'll let you two off safely back to your little simple lives under one condition," he bargained. And there was the touch of mercilessness.

"What?" Gadreel gritted, holding tight to the girl in his arms and pushing her head into his chest, shielding her from their environment.

"The obvious, of course. You don't tell anyone where we are, what you found, or any of the things we had you operate while under our order. Got it?" Michael threatened in a terrifying tone. Gadreel paused, thinking about the plan we came up with before. "I said... Got it?" Michael said more threateningly, interrupting his thought.

Gadreel hesitantly nodded and returned to squeezing the little girl in his arms.

"Good. Adam will walk you back to your car." Adam nodded in acceptance. "And remember Gadreel," he said, stopping his pace to the doorway. "If you don't keep your promise. We will know, and regret is a pesky little thing."

Gadreel nodded again and began walking away. He quickly gave me a sad look. I wanted to nod that it would all be fine, but all I could do was send a look with my eyes that we would figure it out.

Then the doors shut, leaving Michael and I alone.

Tags:

Michael bit his tongue and begrudgingly started his way to the door. Only about 5 feet from the double doors leading out into the hallway I had come from, he stopped with one foot forward.

"What are you waiting for?" Bella stared at him, confused and growing further annoyed.

"Shut up," Michael shouted in a whisper, bringing his finger to his lips and nodding his head toward the corridor.

Carefully and quickly, he broadened his stride and tuned into what was holding his attention on the other side. I arched an eyebrow at the odd behavior, but the hair on my arms started to stand. Something wasn't right, and Michael confirmed it by turning and looking back at his father wide-eyed.

"Bella, artillery," Ramone voiced in a hushed order, standing and buttoning his jacket as he pushed a button on the end table that exposed a secret compartment. "What did you do?" he angrily shot a pointed look at me. Anyone in their right mind wouldn't want to be under that stare.

"How the hell could I have done anything? I was drug, handcuffed, and brought here against my will. I didn't really have the time to plan anything out," I lied, seeing I was safest if I played along their side until I learned who we were going up against for sure.

I hoped it was back up, but I know from prior knowledge that with enemies like theirs, it was Russian roulette at what could be coming through those doors.

Ramone shot me a look that felt like millions of daggers piercing through my skin. I instinctively caved into myself from it. Not a lot could intimidate me, but Ramone DeLuca was one of the few that made up that list.

Shortly after, I felt Michael harshly grab my forearm and saw him loading his gun with his bad arm. He was only slightly clumsy, as I'm sure this wasn't the first time he was injured and had to load a weapon in a hurry. He started pulling me to the door on the opposite side of the room where everyone else was headed.

"Ow. I'm going freely, OK? You don't have to pull so hard," I wiggled, elbowing him in the good arm.

"Don't think you're getting a jump on me a second time, Angel. That was a one-time thing," Michael grunted as his arm ached from where he had shifted it without considering the injury.

The way he talked just brought back memories of him bossing me around and feeling like he had the final say in everything I did when we started getting closer and dating. It was protective at first but quickly became possessive.

It felt as though if they did manage to escape, then Michael would have me on a tight leash, especially since I wouldn't be immediately trusted. And that kind of shadow was the last thing I needed or wanted in this situation.

"You two go down that hall," Ramone instructed us. "Bella and I will go a different route," Ramone said, motioning to the exits. "Be smart and get out safe. You know the drill," Ramone demanded.

Bella and Michael nodded, and Ramone and Bella started their getaway.

Michael walked us over to a secret panel in the wall and started pushing along it. Definitely looking for a hidden button or key.

"Do all of the stereotypical mob boss problems happen to you guys?" I chuckled mockingly. "I wonder how many gangsters got killed in the midst of trying to remember where they put the secret lever to their evil layer?"

"Shut up, Y/N," he said, frustrated that what I was joking about could very well become his current situation.

"I'm going to tell you right now, if you want me to cooperate with you at all, ordering me around isn't going to help you," I shot back, annoyed.

"There are no promises on that one, sweetcheeks," he said as if I had just given him an exciting challenge to conquer. He paused, looking away for a second to wink at me before returning to his search.

While he was busy with that, I looked back at the door nervously for something to happen on the other end of the room.

It was a subtle instinctual feeling, but something in my gut told me to stall. Something was assuring me that the cavalry was here.

No one had come in guns a-blazin' yet. Most mobsters just go in with bullets raining down on anyone in the vicinity, almost as a prideful and traditional thing. Trust me, I've seen enough crime scene photos in my days.

Whoever Michael had heard in the hall was taking calculating steps, and I knew what that meant. I needed to poke the bear more if I really wanted to hinder him.

"So tell me... Since you never moved on from me, you haven't been laid in like 15 years? That must be why your panties are in such a twist," I emphasized the snarky undertones in my voice.

Men. Such prideful creatures that something as simple as demeaning their body count can get them to forget even life or death situations to defend their 'honor.'

He stopped what he was doing and turned to me with a blank stare.

"What are you doing?" he moved his head lower, staring at my eyeline.

"Asking the obvious question of why you're such a prick. The first thing that came to mind was that you can't get laid," I shrugged, crossing my arms.

"Can't isn't really the issue," he said in a low voice, and his eyes grew darker brown instead of the greenish hazel they held.

"Oh," I feigned interest. "Never were able to move on from a 16-year-old inexperienced teenager." I acted like I was thinking about it. "Pretty sad, actually," I scrunched my nose in distaste.

Next thing I knew, he was gripping my arm to the point bruises would form and squeezing his other hand around the back of my neck to make me look up at him without giving room for much resistance. Our faces were inches apart.

Instead of flinching away like I wanted to, I stood tall and took advantage of his attention on me instead of escaping.

"Well, if you haven't found a girl who can do better than that, then you need to step up your age range," I said in a sultry voice that made his lip twitch as he scanned my features. "You wouldn't believe the things I can do now."

That tipped him over the edge, and teeth showed as he lowered himself to me, brushing my nose with his own. I'd be throwing up about that later.

"I don't appreciate you messing with me. You'll learn rather quickly my patience runs low on supply, and I'm not always such a gentleman when I'm out of it," he threatened, and I know he would follow through with that. I had a throbbing headache and a bruising temple as proof of his running out of patience.

I pulled back some at the thought, and he held me firmly, his eyes glancing to my lips and then back to my eyes.

"So don't make promises you don't plan on keeping," he whispered, pulling back so I could breathe but keeping his grip tightly on me.

"How many stabs does it take to convince you not to fuck with me? Cause I'll happily meet that quota," I sassed back, faking confidence in my threat when his comment simultaneously made me sick and terrified.

The corner of his lip raised in a chaotic and manipulative grin.

Before he could say yet another thing that would likely give me nightmares, the doors we were meant to run away from came bursting open.

"NYPD! FBI! Hands where I can see them!" Dean's voice vibrated lowly in the room, and his gun pointed at Michael.

I immediately went to pull as far from him as possible to keep me out of the crossfire, but his grip on me was already too tight, now just multiplied by adrenaline strength.

I couldn't see who all was there because he was keeping my head in a locked position. Both my arms on his forearms were trying to pry his grip off me, but I was outmuscled.

"Put her down and step away with your hands up!" Dean repeated, and I could hear his steps slowly come closer.

"You bitc-" Michael stated, turning to me in anger.

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you," Dean cut him off, and I could tell he was pissed.

Michael instantly flipped me in his hold, placed me in front of him like a shield, and pulled his newly loaded gun from his back waistband before putting it to my temple. The other arm wrapped around my neck, keeping me secure.

Out of instinct, I grabbed his forearm to pull away the pressure on my windpipe.

"Come any closer, and I'll shoot!" he threatened.

"Put it down, and we won't kill you," Dean ordered.

I don't know if that was FBI protocol or not, but he seemed pretty damn fine with shooting Michael if given the chane.

"She's double-crossed us enough. I won't be losing much," Michael bargained, tightening his hold on me as he moved back.

I looked Dean in the eyes and pointed with my own at the other door, trying to silently tell him to check the other side of the building. He caught on and, with two fingers, motioned for his agents flanking him to go.

I took inventory of who was in the room and saw Pam and another agent run the way he had instructed, leaving Cas, Benny, and Dean with us. I could hear a commotion of other agents storming the rest of the hideout.

"You think that's a smart idea?" Michael asked, yanking my figure into his chest again, getting a wince out of me.

"Positive. Now, why don't you surrender and step away from the lovely lady? No need for empty threats," Dean said cocking his head with a smirk.

"Bold of you to assume they're empty threats?" Half a second later, he pulled back and brought the gun barrel to the side of my arm before grazing me with a live bullet.

I screamed in pain and doubled over, but he caught me and put me back in the hold against him.

Dean's eyes went wide with fear, and rage was even more evident than before as he moved in closer but was stopped by Michael.

"Take another step, Winchester, and stitching up the next shot won't be an option."

"MOTHER FUCKING SHIT!" I yelled, taking in a sharp, short breath when he squeezed me and pushed into the open wound. "Was that fucking necessary, you piece of shit bastard?!" I colorfully cursed at Michael.

"Oh hush, it's a flesh wound like mine. Call it even," he mumbled into my ear. "I'm not willing to throw away my life's work for you like you think I am."

"Oh, go to hell, asshole," I struggled again in his grasp.

"Been there. Don't care for it."

"Micheal Deluca, last time I'm going to say it. Step away from her. You don't have the upper hand anymore. How about you save us some time and just surrender," Dean interrupted, more serious now that I was injured.

"From where I stand, it sure as hell feels like I have the upper hand?" Michael laughed, but I could feel how tense he really was.

This could drag on forever, and with another injury added to my growing list, I was losing patience.

"Bleeding person over here," I grimaced, weighing down more in his grip. "Can we speed this up before I pass out?"

"Y/N!" both the men shouted at me.

"Fuck this," I grumbled, rolling my eyes and taking a deep breath. "Why do I have to do everything myself?"

As soon as I knew that Michaels's attention was back on Dean, I threw my head back, butting into his nose with a hard crack. He stumbled at the impact, and his grip disappeared from around me. Before his hand could go to his nose to grasp the assaulted body part, I snagged his arm, twisted it behind his back, and kicked his feet from under him.

In the few seconds I managed to get him on his back, I dug my knee into his back with more force than lawfully needed, but I'd been assaulted, threatened, kidnapped, and drugged because of this man and his family in the last few hours, so I didn't have much restraint.

As if everything finally caught up to him, he writhed in his spot and tried to look back at me.

"You bitc-" he started again, but I pushed my pointed knee into his shoulder blades more. "Fuck!"

"You'll never finish that sentence, apparently," I sighed, pulling his arms behind him and securing them together at his waist. I could finally breathe now that I wasn't in immediate danger.

Dean was quickly at my side, keeping his gun trained on Michael and scanning me further as I caught my breath.

"Holy hell, woman," Dean muttered, handing me handcuffs secured on his belt. 

"Yeah, well, you told me to send someone to the hospital, so here we are," I shrugged, forgetting my most recent injury for a second before the pain radiated across my arm. "By the way, we are not even," I hissed down at Michael, still feeling the ache in my head from his original knockout.

Before he could talk again, I pressed into his back with all my weight to stand up, getting another grunt out of him.

"You mind?" I nodded for Dean to take over; he was already moving to pull him up.

Once Michael was handed off to Cas and Benny, not without slurs and threats toward me and anyone else in his vicinity, Dean was instructing them toward the exits I had hinted at and quickly in front of me, scanning for any sign of abuse, which was probably painted all over me.

"You good?" he asked. "You don't look so hot," grabbing my good arm and holding me tight as he lowered himself to see me at eye level.

"Damn. Way to kick a girl while she's down, why don't ya?"

"Not in that way," he grinned, seeing my humor was still intact. "What did they do?" he asked, a hand coming to ghost over what I'm sure was a bruise turning yellow and spreading from my temple to my eye.

With each scrape, bruise, and blood-stained piece of clothing he took into inventory, I could see worry and anger etching into his features.

"I'm okay," I took his hand reassuringly and gave it a squeeze before holding it.

He brought his eyes back to me, and a short burst of relief and peace phased over his face when I smiled at him. Then he thought back to the last few hours.

Without much thought, he pulled me into his arms and buried me in his chest. It hurt, but the pain was worth it to be held in a way that was empathetic and comforting.

"When we got the call, I thought you would be safe. I thought we'd come back to the house with good news that we were closer to getting you out of there, but-"

"I know. I did, too," I sighed, and I wrapped my arms around his waist, keeping my body close to him. "I'm sure you already know, but Gadreel-"

"Pam told me," he nodded, his chin resting on top of my head. "She called us as soon as she woke up." He nodded his head to the exit where she had left but never pulled back. "We told her to hang back since the drugs he used were intense, but she was adamant about being here."

"She ok?" I pulled back some and looked behind him as if she would be there to prove she was.

"We hydrated her and got her back on her feet on the way here. Still, I don't think she should have been here, but she was worried about you," he nodded, looking down at me and brushing my hair away in a way I didn't flinch. "We all were."

"Aw, you guys were worried about little old me?" I smiled at him and jokingly hit him in the arm, and instead of him reacting, I hissed at my own pain. "Shit, I keep forgetting about that."

"Let's get you to the paramedics," he gently moved my shirt fabric to look at the bleeding wound, and his eyebrows furrowed. "I think it's just a flesh wound."

"Yeah, he was just looking for an excuse to get back at me for stabbing him," I agreed, looking down at my red-stained long-sleeve t-shirt.

"You stabbed him?" Dean asked.

"You can read all about it in my report another day. For now, I'd like to sit down and not have to plan my next defensive tactic," I nodded, and we latched hands as we moved toward the exit. I liked the feeling of it there.

Dean didn't seem to mind either because he never pulled away and instead interlaced our fingers in between each other.

When we got outside, Bobby was the first to run toward me. He gave me a giant and brash hug before knowing of my injuries, and Dean had to pry him off of me.

"Jesus, kid. How did you manage to find trouble in a heavily guarded, federal-mandated safehouse?" He grumbled, trying to distract from the sniffle he just hid with his hand.

"Trouble seems to find me from what I've learned," I answered with a smile, happy to see the father figure I needed after so long without one. "Guess I don't need to go on the hunt anymore."

"I don't know which one's worse," Bobby grinned with a sigh. "Go get yourself fixed up. I can't give you a proper hug when you're banged up the way you are."

After I got to the ambulance and they sat me on the back ledge to assess my injuries, I watched Bobby take Michael to the back of the SWAT van. His dad and Bella, who they hunted down shortly after my tip, were already cuffed and stowed away.

"Wow, you really got everyone out here on the job. SWAT. FBI. NYPD," I told Dean as we monitored the scene before us and the paramedic prepared sutures for my bullet wound.

"Gadreel told us everything. He'll be charged, of course, but he gave himself a decent chance by being honest with us and explaining his reasoning. He and his family will be the next group in the Witness Protection Program for a while," Dean replied, watching Bobby talk with an FBI superior. "Such a big bust required backup. We'll still have to be careful because we just messed with something much larger than just those three, but-"

"I don't want to talk about revisiting something I just solved. Let me have this moment for a little while longer," I grabbed his arm to pull his attention back to me. "Also, sit still while this lady stabs me repeatedly."

"I told Daryl to double-check that we were stocked on numbing cream," she mumbled. "We had a wuss who couldn't bear the idea of a shot in the butt and used all of it."

"A man?"

"Yeah."

"Once again, I'll be inflicted with pain because of a man," I sighed, motioning her on. "This'll make up for it," I winked before she started the stitches.

"What will make up for-?" Dean questioned, and I dramatically gripped his forearm with my hand, making my nails slightly dig in. "Ow!"

He jumped, but he didn't pull away. How sweet. He was going to let me bear claw him even if it was killing him.

"Relax, it's not bad," I eased up after a few seconds and laughed at him.

"Jeez, sweetheart," he rolled his eyes dramatically and pulled his arm back in a pout.

"It's sweet you care," I announced after a second, and he stopped rubbing his arm and turned to look me in the eyes. "I don't do well with letting people take care of me, and I tried multiple times to get you to stop, but you didn't."

"You're a good person, Y/N. I like to make sure those kinds of people stay in my life." His answer sounded much more simple than it was.

I grinned, and it turned into a smirk as I tilted my head, studying him.

"You're sure it doesn't hurt?" he asked, turning his attention to where I was casually being sutured up and not paying mind to it.

"Compared to getting shot and getting my lights knocked out, this is like a spa day," I waved off with my good hand.

The memory of what Michael had told me about Dean's dad came back to me. I didn't know if I could trust the mobster's intel, but I needed to talk to Dean about it.

"There is something I need to run by you, though..."

"What's that?" he hummed, turning and leaning a shoulder on the opened back doors of the ambulance.

"Michael said some things that had me backtracking a lot of my research," I started, and his eyebrows furrowed. "Your dad..." I paused, looking for a reaction, but he seemed confused. "Did he die in action?"

Dean paused, confused at the mention of his father.

"Um, yeah. He was on an undercover mission and was shot. My family wasn't really given any details about the mission because it was top secret. We were able to say goodbye before he passed that night at the hospital," he answered solemnly.

"You never looked into the mission report after all these years?" I asked.

"I mean, I did, but a lot of it is redacted. All I know is it happened in the city, and it was an organized crime group."

"You didn't want to dig further?" I had when my dad died, and something told me Dean wouldn't be much different.

"I did, but one of his dying wishes was that I moved on from it. He didn't want me to harp on something I couldn't change. Asked me to move on from it and not let it be my only passion in life," he replied. "Why? What connection did you learn?"

I decided now wasn't the time to break the news that the DeLucas were also the reason for his father's death. By the sounds of it, he had the fatherly advice I never got. He was able to continue life on a path I wasn't protected from.

To think we lost a father the same night all those years ago was a lot to unpack, and I needed some time to grasp it myself. Especially when I had a concussion, and I knew I would have a decent one.

"I'll tell you later, but right now, I don't know how accurate I'll be with the headache I have," I replied, looking down as she finished the last suture and wrapped the mangled wound into a layer of gauze.

"I'll check for a concussion next," the paramedic noted.

"I can promise you there is one to be found," I sighed, closing my eyes from the bright flashing red and blue lights, mainly lighting the lot we were stationed in.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Dean staring at me nervously.

"You're going to have worry lines on your face before 40 if you keep it up," I smiled tiredly and rested my head on the hinge of the ambulance doors as the paramedic went in for more supplies.

"For someone who just got kidnapped and held at ransom, you're handling it really well," he said sadly more than as a joke.

"Been through a lot of sticky situations in my life, so I'm pretty good at masking," I shrugged, picking at the bandage mindlessly already.

"You don't have to, you know? No one's going to be surprised if you wanted to curl into a ball and hide from the world for a bit."

"I did that for a month... I don't really want to do that again."

There was silence as he watched me carefully.

"Dean! Need you over here for a second," Bobby's voice rang from behind us, and we both shifted to see him waving him over to Dean's boss.

"I'll be right back," Dean nodded to them before assuring me.

I pulled his arm back to me before he could get too far.

"My mind is going to be a scary place to be left alone with for a bit," I said. "It'd be nice to have company when I face it all."

I think my subtle ask for his help was all he needed to feel better about everything. And I meant it when I asked him out of all people.

"I think that can be arranged," he smiled softly, squeezing my hand that had a grip on him. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be back."

I gave him a nod as he ran off in a jog, and the paramedic returned from scavenging for supplies inside.

"Where'd you snag a man like that?" she grinned as she stood before me and pulled a pen-sized flashlight to check my eyes.

"Crazy enough, witness protection," I laughed, following the light as she instructed.

"Can't say that's a typical meet-cute," she laughed and tilted my head as she scanned me over.

"No, I don't think you can..."

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