#and dean looks up and gets all worried cause cas face looks all feverish and then ge motherhens all the way to the bunker after their

[loserchildhotpants]

Another destiel prompt from Twitter; say they’re dancing together, still trying to hide their feelings for each other, and because of that, avoiding eye-contract, the best the can, to ensure that the other character doesn’t notice how attracted they are to them (from this prompt list)

“Did you just turn her down?” Dean asks incredulously; Sam is busy sipping champagne next to him, but his eyebrows convey that he would also like clarification on whatever social interaction it is that Cas just had.

They’re all dressed to the nines, stuck at a posh wedding service until they solve this rogue Cupid case; it’s a low-risk case, but a case is a case, and they’ve got it well in hand.

Dean’s not been this dressed up since Bela stuffed him in a monkey suit, and he’d wager the same applies to Sam, but this is certainly the first either of them have ever seen Cas in anything other than his cubicle-life uniform.

Cas’ suit is sharp, pressed, striking, and he’s wearing a cerulean blue tie that has everyone meeting eyes with him coming up short. Predictably, he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, so he mostly apologizes awkwardly for those he seems to startle and thanks the handsy old ladies that liken him to long dead husbands.

With two flutes of bubbly meant for Dean and himself, Cas crossed the great hall, seemed to be stopped by a gorgeous young woman with dark hair, in a low-cut dress and a very promising smirk, but whatever exchange happened left her dejected.

“She asked me to dance,” Castiel tells Dean, passing him his flute, “I regretfully informed her that I don’t know how.”

“You can’t manage a simple little box-step for that hot piece? She was practically drooling, lookin’ at you!”

“We’re on a case,” he says, as though it’s a valid excuse.

“Nuh-unh,” Dean answers, shaking his head and putting his drink down on a nearby table, “That’s - that was a travesty, what I just witnessed. Babes are fuckin’ wasted on you, Cas.”

“She’s a fully grown woman, Dean,” Castiel corrects him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he brings his glass to his lips, “Besides, I’d only be wasting her time. I cannot dance, and I’d not be amenable to having relations with her, so it’s better I -”

“Not amenable?” Dean chokes out disbelievingly, “Who the fuck are you holdin’ out for?! Angelina Jolie?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“It’s a shame you don’t know how to dance, though,” Sam interjects, seeing by the vein throbbing in his forehead that Dean is about to start shouting about beautiful women and Cas’ ineptitudes, “I could teach you, if you want.”

Castiel slants his mouth at Sam, and Sam smiles gently back at him, “I know it doesn’t sound like fun, but, honestly? It’s a good skill to have, and worst case scenario is that you brighten someone’s evening.”

Appealing to his kind nature is the right call; Cas can’t argue that point, so he puts his champagne down and walks up to Sam.

“Very well. Where do we begin?”

“Oh - we’ll probably wanna go somewhere more private, so we can move a little more freely.”

At Sam’s behest, Dean and Cas follow him across the great hall, out onto a spacious balcony, out of the way of most everyone. Double glass doors lead out to it, and flowers line stone railing; no moon is visible from where they are in the mansion, but the sky is bright with stars, and that’s light enough.

While Sam does a fine job of teaching Castiel, and Castiel is a very quick study, they struggle with their height difference while Dean tells them about their height difference, unhelpfully and repeatedly.

Eventually, Sam turns to Dean, and says, “you should step in, man.”

“What? I’m not short,” Dean pouts grumpily.

“No, but you’re at least shorter than me - it’ll make leading a little easier for him.”

Rolling his eyes as though he’s actually put out, Dean peels himself from the French window he’d been leaning on, and takes Sam’s place.

Even and paced, Castiel and Dean take a few turns around the balcony, and Sam is impressed, informing Castiel that it took him a full week of practice to stop tripping over his own feet.

“To be fair, you were still growing into them at the time” Dean jokes.

In a rare moment of familial levity between them, Sam laughs, and Dean smiles at him - all of that makes Cas smile too, and then Sam’s phone rings.

“Oh - it’s Natalie,” Sam lets them know, “She wants eyes on the dance floor for a minute - I’ll take care of it - Cas, you’re doing great, don’t stop practicing!”

To both Dean and Cas’ surprise and humor, Sam appears genuinely bereft to leave the lesson. They both seem inclined to respect Sam’s wishes, though, so they take another turn.

“You gotta stop glancing down,” Dean commands.

Flashing his eyes back up at Dean, Cas mutters, “it’s reflexive. I apologize.”

“Nah, it’s fine, man. You’ve got it,” Dean assures him, “Now that you know how to, you gonna ask that girl to dance?”

“Perhaps,” Cas tries to shrug, determinedly keeping his eyes up, “I feel certain she has moved on in her pursuits, but if I pass her again, I will offer a dance.”

“You know how?”

“Now, yes.”

“No, I mean do you know how to ask a girl to dance?”

“Is there a particular ritual involved?”

Exhaling a laugh, Dean brings them to a stop, and explains, “okay - I’m gonna show you how it’s done, alright? Then I’ll lead.”

“Understood,” Cas tells him with serious conviction, studious and militant.

Dean steps back and away, and they wait for the band’s dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight to end before proceeding.

As The Book of Love begins, the live orchestra swells from inside the hall, Dean bows just a little at the waist, with his right arm crossing his chest, but his head up, and he inquires politely, “Castiel, may I have this dance?”

Tilting his head curiously, Castiel needlessly replies, “yes, Dean, of course.”

Smiling his most winning smile, Dean straightens up, offers his hand, and nods approvingly when Castiel all but glides into step with him.

He keeps the tempo slow, but incorporates making circles, turning them ‘round and ‘round the stone and marble balcony, up and down it’s length; Cas follows him easily, trusting Dean’s direction, and always operating on a similar wavelength - Dean thinks that maybe they dance together well because they fight together well.

“This is nice, Dean,” Castiel remarks softly.

A dusting of rosiness rises up in Dean’s face; he pulls Cas a little closer to better obscure his face from scrutiny, clears his throat and makes some noncommittal noise that could be agreement or indifference.

“You’re the one who taught Sam to waltz,” Castiel surmises conversationally.

“Yeah,” Dean answers.

“How is it that you came to learn it?”

“Eh, you’d be surprised what you learn on the job,” Dean replies easily, pulling away enough to spin Cas, and then move close in again.

“... you just spun me.”

“Yeah, I was there,” Dean jokes, smirking proudly down at Cas; “Don’t worry, when you get to be a seasoned pro like me, you can snazzy up your waltz too. Maybe next you can learn to salsa or tango.”

In a moment of silence between them, Dean follows Cas’ eyes to their clasped hands; Dean’s not sure what Cas is seeing, but whatever it is, it’s making Dean nervous.

“See now what that lovely lady wanted? Feel bad yet?” Dean prompts.

Castiel’s electric eyes refocus on him, startling him with their intensity just as they had the wedding guests that were strangers to Cas, “I do understand now. However, perhaps it’s the soldier in me, but I find I much prefer following than leading.”

“Ah, that’s just ‘cause I’m a great lead,” Dean teases playfully.

“Yes, you are,” Castiel reinforces, eyes flickering between Dean’s, “You do know I would follow your lead anywhere, don’t you?”

“Christ, Cas,” Dean swears, trying to politely move his too-warm face out of view.

“Really, Dean,” Castiel adds, squeezing Dean’s hand where they’re clasped; when that doesn’t work immediately, he takes advantage of a circling turn to near their faces - their noses almost bump, and Dean has no choice but to look into Castiel’s eyes, “I want you to know. You do know, don’t you?”

Swallowing roughly, feeling possibly feverish, Dean down, then away, “... you gotta stop saying shit like that, Cas.”

“Why?” he wonders, “It’s only the truth.”

Clearing his throat again - a nervous tic he didn’t realize he had until right then - he mumbles back, “yeah, well… I talk big, but I’m flyin’ blind, so maybe don’t follow me everywhere.”

“I’m a soldier, Dean. A Commander, actually. When I delivered you to the convent where Sam and Ruby were against the wishes of Heaven, I chose you. I pledged my allegiance to an Earthly King over an absent God, and I knew what I was doing when I did,” their steps slow down as Dean takes that in, “All I knew was that… I had faith in you.”

At that, Dean stops moving altogether, his hand slides down from Cas’ shoulder blade to the cinch of his waist, and he allows their joined hands to wilt a bit lower, but he doesn’t let go.

It seems then that Cas is the one having trouble keeping Dean’s gaze.

He looks to some faraway place over Dean’s shoulder, and rasps, “I still do. So, yes, Dean. I will follow you everywhere you lead, for however long you allow me to. I don’t mind flying blind if I’m flying with you.”

“Cas…”

With difficulty, Castiel looks back into Dean’s eyes, and Dean feels his heart thud in his ears. He wonders to himself if Cas can hear it, or feel it, but all Cas does is stare intently back at him, maybe waiting for Dean to confirm or deny something.

“Guys!”

Dean practically jumps away from Cas, frightened as if he’s been caught doing something untoward, but Cas is unbothered.

“I think I found our guy,” Sam announces, none the wiser, “And I think he brought a friend.”

“Yeah,” Dean affirms gruffly, “Got it.”

Sam turns back around first, through the glass doors, back into the busy hall, and Dean starts after him, a hand already twitching toward his holster, sparing Cas a look from over his shoulder.

The Angel is standing there alone, unmistakably ethereal with a backdrop of twinkling stars and lazy fireflies illuminating him; he’s examining his hand as though Dean may have left a mark or a message on him somehow.

“You comin’, Swayze?”

Cas’ eyes snap to attention again, and his forehead wrinkles, “... I don’t understand that reference,” but he follows after Dean anyway.

He doesn’t seem to notice how Dean clenches and unclenches his corresponding hand, but Dean wouldn’t be able to explain it if he did.

[cajunquandary]

A Beacon to Beasts

A Beacon to Beasts

AO3 Link (in the works, check back later)

Summary: While Dean is in Purgatory, he comes across some interesting monsters who help him through.

Created for @spndarkbingo​

Square Filled: Fornication

Rating: R (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Benny

Warnings: Dark Fic. Canon level violence, SMUT (p in v, biting, anal, oral, dp, unprotected sex *dont be silly wrap the willy,* all the smut, also I might be developing a praise!kink here??), angst, traumatic memories. If you squint: suicide, Destiel, Denny

Word Count: 7600

A/N: Originally published in early 2017, this is a total rewrite with the tremendous help of @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ and @wonder-cole​. You talented bitches. I love you.

Lightning spider-webbed across the sky, for a brief moment illuminating every shadow across Purgatory. The forest practically hissed in the unwelcome brightness as the trees whispered amongst themselves. A crack of thunder caused a quake larger than you’d felt in the god forsaken land ever before. It cracked the sound barrier, bent the hellscape reality at all of its slithering edges, and sent a shockwave so powerful it nearly tore apart every cell in your body. With an eerie silence, darkness fell again, and as your eyes adjusted, you could see that the beast attacking you was fleeing the other direction from whence it’d come—no, not fleeing. It was chasing the impact. 

Something pulled in your chest like a red-hot meat hook, something that sent sparks of electricity straight into your brain and signaling an overwhelming raw need. You were familiar with such will-crushing lust. Your fangs were proof. But this… this was stronger than anything you’d ever felt before. It nearly drove you mad. You could feel your mind slipping, until you took a step forward, then another, and another. The more you walked towards the source of the prior disturbance, the more sated you felt. The more whole. 

It took weeks of fighting others like you and endless backtracking to find the source—a vampire and another beast. It was a bit like a human, but no humans could be in Purgatory. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating. 

Your body shuddered at the proximity of the delicious flesh. The warmth. You were merely a moth, drawn to a flame of your own destruction. Your head swam and you reached towards the man, but another fang sped from the shadows opposite you first. This was just enough of a distraction to pull you back from the brink. 

You crouched behind a half-rotten tree, only one eye peeking from behind your cover. The human barely had time to react before the fiend had him forced into the well-trodden packed earth. His fall was hard. Your mouth watered as his pulse quickened and echoed through your soul. 

The vampire accompanying the human sent the attacker’s head flying so closely that spattered monster blood landed on your hand. The foul stench drove you deeper into the safety of the trunk. You didn’t want to be next. 

In this land, the best way to survive was to stay hidden, quiet, so you decided to follow them for the first few weeks, being careful to keep to the shadows. The thirst for the human ebbed and swelled unpredictably. At times, it was all you could do to resist the pulse exposed on his neck, especially when the man slept. 

For days you tried to figure out what the other one was, who he was, but damn, was he a monster magnet. You’d been in pretty thick shit before, but never like this. Your cover was nearly blown a few times a day, but you were thankful the two were too busy fighting their own to notice you.

“Damn, man. You’re humanity is gon get us kilt.” The vampire wiped the rancid blood from his blade on the latest dead monster’s shirt.

“Yeah well, as soon as we find Cas, we’re getting the hell out of hell.” A human in Purgatory? How? No wonder there had been such a disturbance. He must have been pulled here by a great force--one that very nearly ripped the entire existence apart. 

“Hey brother, I’m startin to think the angel don’t wanna be found. Dean, think about it. Every time we get close, he disappears again.”

“Benny—don’t.” The human stormed away from the vampire. What was going on? A human and an angel? Things must be getting really messy up top.

The vampire, Benny, turned suddenly in your direction, and you closed your eyes, hoping the thick layer of leaves and thorny bushes camouflaged you well enough. It must have, because he merely shrugged and walked after Dean.

This night was the quietest it had been since The Event. It had been hours since the last monster attack and you were almost as exhausted as they looked. It wasn’t long before the men settled down into the dust and a pile of dry brush and began to lightly snore. Usually one stood guard as the other slept, but on this occasion, both must have been too far gone to care. 

You crept slowly forward, focused completely on the human. He was so beautiful. The creases of his forehead were reduced to fine lines as he slumbered, slow, tender breath fluttering across weary-pale swollen lips, freckles and mud mixed on his cheeks, hair tousled and bloodied, yet still so soft and shiny. His lashes twitched as he dreamed. You were only a few feet away now, beginning to feel lost in the warmth radiating from him, drunk in the light from his soul.

A sharp pain through your side interrupted your trance and you collapsed into a prickly shrub. Between gulps of agony, you could just make out that you were pinned to the ground with a rough makeshift javelin, reminiscent of a butterfly pinned to a shadow box as you’d owned as a human. You screamed in pain, and if you weren’t already twice dead, you’d worry about losing too much blood.

A pair of boots came into your view. “I smelled you days ago. I know you’ve been followin’ us. Why haven’t you attacked? You workin for someone?”

You looked from under your brows, straining to see if Dean was still where he had been, but found nothing. All you could do was gasp shallowly against the burning splinters. It had been years since anyone had gotten the jump on you like this. The bit of human that was left within you prayed that this was a bad dream, that you would wake in a moment in the gently swaying safety of the treetops.

The javelin was ripped from your aching side, and you screamed again as your organs smacked back together in the loss of pressure. The vampire threw you against the nearest tree. Through the pain that overwhelmed your ability to flee, you watched in utter captivation as the human secured you with heavy, rusted chains.

The latter bent close to your face, piercing green eyes a stark contrast to the caked mud and blood spattered across pale cheeks. “Now look, you piece of shit. I’m gonna waste you like I’ve wasted every damn thing in this place. But first, you’re gonna tell me where the angel is, and why you’ve been following us. If I like your answer, I’ll make it quick. If not… well, I don’t normally like the answers.” He smirked, tilting his head just slightly as if he was considering just how he was going to end you. 

You gulped hard knowing the human meant business. You’d seen him firsthand, the violence, the rage. All this man left behind him were wide trails of blood.

You were shaking now, feverish and confused. When had your fangs come out? You retracted them in an attempt to look less intimidating and more cooperative. Between gritted teeth and a gradual tunneling of vision, you managed to respond. “I’ve been tracking you since you arrived. There was this storm, and I’ve felt a pull towards you the whole time. I-I don’t work for anyone, I swear.” His gnarly blade pressed into the soft flesh of your throat now and panic was rising  and threatening to close off your throat if the blade didn’t do it first. “I didn’t even know about the angel until earlier today when I overheard you.”

“Well. I don’t think I like your answer.” Dean sliced deeply into your arm, which produced a guttural scream from deep within your core. The blade itself didn’t hurt that bad, but whatever was on it sure did. Benny walked away, knowing what was coming. Benny was a monster—Dean was worse.

“P-please I don’t know, I just know the light—your soul is like a candle in this endless darkness. I’ve been here for so, so long and you feel like home, like safety. I crave your closeness and I don’t know the details of why, but I couldn’t hurt you.”

Benny looked over his shoulder as Dean paused. Something struck a chord. Benny walked back over and pulled Dean slightly off to the side, almost out of earshot.

“Brother, I think she’s tellin’ the truth. We should give this one a chance to talk.”

“Why? She doesn’t know anything about Cas. She’s just another monster in my way.”

“And so was I. We were both human once. Let’s hear her out. She hasn’t even fought back.”

The fatigue and injuries caught up with you. Focusing on the thick red-black ooze streaming from your wounds, sleep was finding you swiftly with your head falling forward, blood-soaked hair in your eyes and chest pulled tight against the restraints.

Dean lifted your chin with the end of his blade, remnants of your internals still glistening on the edge. Your eyes followed the length of his arm to his face where he held you in an unwavering gaze. Those eyes were greener than anything in this world—more than the trees you hid in, the brush around you, or the sparse grass beneath your feet. 

You seized your breath and relaxed your tense muscles. If this was finally what wiped you into oblivion, it would be okay, as long as you could stare into those eyes. After all, you were tired of fighting. Your mortal soul had been tired in life, grown wearier after you were turned, another century had passed before you’d been sent here after a hunter took you out. The memory flashed by: how you sat there on your knees, glad to be facing the barrel of the gun after so long that you didn’t even fight. Had you known you’d end up here, you may have fought more to stay topside. But now, you faced oblivion, or so you hoped. This would finally be the end of the suffering, the fighting.

Dean must have read the all-too-familiar look of defeat and acceptance in your face. He lowered the knife, letting your head fall forward again, and caught you in his arms as the chains broke and clattered to the dust.

He leaned you against the base of the tree. You weakly gazed upward through hooded eyes, wanting to see past the leaves to the empty sky, but couldn’t. It was all grisly branches for a hundred feet up.

“Why were you creeping up on me?” Dean pulled your attention back to them.

Battling the unconsciousness that nipped unwaveringly at the corners of your mind, you whispered, “The ache in my chest… the closer I get to you, the easier it is to handle. I wasn’t going to hurt you, I just needed to be... closer.”

“And is this better?” He motioned to the foot’s distance between you.

“Yeah,” You half-smiled through gritted teeth, the pain from your side still throbbing. It wouldn’t kill you. Nothing in Purgatory killed a monster except another monster—usually by beheading. It still hurt like a bitch, though, and left you exposed and vulnerable like a wounded animal.

He pursed his lips and shared a look with Benny, who shrugged. “I’ll stay up and watch, Dean. You get more rest before it starts again. And I’ll watch you, specifically.” The other vampire motioned at you, an intensity behind his blue eyes you could identify with. This human was meant to be protected, no matter the personal cost.

Dean was soon asleep again, his back turned to you.

The earth supporting your broken form was anything but forgiving. But still, you weren’t going to waste time whimpering to yourself now that you were a part of the misfit group. “Benny, where are you from? How long have you been here?” You wondered aloud.

He eyed you suspiciously, pausing before he answered. “I ran with a crew out of Louisiana, but we sailed all over the Americas. Been here a long time.”

You adjusted your position with a grunt. Benny’s hand was already on his weapon. “Calm down, sailor, just tryin to get comfortable... I’m from Shreveport. Been here a long time, too. Only did about two centuries up top, though.”

“Well, I’ve got a few on you then, sister. Shreveport was nice. Rolled through there a few times.” The vampire chuckled at the memory.

Even still, your body had different plans for the evening, and if anything else was said afterwards, you wouldn’t remember. Rest was in the cards that evening, even if your mind protested. Between stretches of sweet nothing, nightmarish memories flashed by in haphazard, non-chronological snippets. 

There you stood, on the bridge above deep, twisting waters. Though the wind whipped your hair wildly, you could feel nothing. Not since the day you were bit.

Then you were in the shed on your grandfather’s land, centuries before, when you were young but still so old. Had you ever had a chance? And there were fires and anthills, guns and chains. 

Before that one could go where you knew it would, you shot awake. Benny raised a concerned brow in your direction, but you couldn’t face him. Not after that. Within moments, sleep took you once again. 

The butterfly pinned in the box. Such a stark contrast was that orange and red and blue against the green felt and the glint of silver pins. You would chuckle at the sight if you could. Tiny fingers traced the outline of the glass. 

Then you were on your knees. You didn’t even fight. This? This was the day you died… the second time. By the hands of an inexperienced young hunter who was too focused on fighting with his dad to even notice you there. I mean, he practically tripped over you. The boy looked tall for his age, hazel eyes partially obscured by choppy bangs and mouth pressed into a thin line. He hesitated too long. You’d cocked your head to the side, wondering if he even had it in him to off you, and you almost felt sorry for the kid. Especially when his dad saw. The old black-haired ass berated him, belittled him. Compared him to his older brother. A disgrace, he’d said. Nothing like him, nothing like Mary. When the boy could look you in the eyes, you gave a slight nod as if to say, “It’s okay, I forgive you.” Those bright hazel eyes morphed into the moon cast over a monster wasteland. 

By morning’s light, you felt better, somewhat healed, but mostly sore. You and Benny spoke all the while, learned your ins and outs, and caught up on the situation with Dean, the toothy leviathans, the apocalypse (again), the dick angels, and everything else Dean had filled him in on weeks ago. If you weren’t in Purgatory yourself, you never would’ve believed all this. I mean, angels? C’mon. 

Sure enough, Benny was right. Beasts continued to attack in waves. There were a few close calls, and not one would speak of the whereabouts of the angel Castiel, though a few tried to save themselves by spouting lies. Dean would see right through them. It only ever took one question. “What color are the angel’s eyes?” A few had gotten lucky and guessed blue, but Dean didn’t even accept that answer. You asked once, what answer he was hoping for. He only shook his head in response. 

There were times, though, when he would describe Cas to you in the quiet of night, and it was like listening to a lost lover. Dean gave in after some months and described the angel’s eyes as full of grace, blue, but slightly glowing. And not just any blue, no. The bluest blue you could ever imagine. The purest blue. He spoke longingly about things they’d done, things he wanted to do, wanted to say. Needed to say. You would close your eyes and drift off to him mumbling stories of Cas, the fondness softening his voice.

It was dark again and the almost empty end of a particularly difficult day. You’d all sustained serious injuries from the violent fray that only seemed to become more dense as of late. You and Benny would heal quickly, but Dean wouldn’t… and you worried for him, lingering protectively close.

The weary hunter screamed in time with the monster as he thrust his knife through its eye, his voice echoing long after the lifeless body crumpled in front of him. In a rage, he threw his weapon down, stalking over to a nearby tree. He punched, kicked and threw himself against the bark until he was nearly bloodied beyond recognition. Benny could only look down, powerless to help his friend. Unable to watch any longer, you forced yourself between Dean and the tree. His eyes were closed until his bruised fists struck soft skin stretched over bone, the unexpected change in texture catching him off guard. You winced against it but grabbed his jacket in both hands, balling your own fists into it to hold him firmly in place. Jerking him forward until you were nose to nose, breath and blood mixing, you growled, “We will find him, Dean. But not if you kill yourself first.”

“Y-you sound like him,” His voice cracked and his head fell to your shoulder. You could feel his tears, hot on your frozen skin. This world was so cold and it never ceased to amaze you how he kept his warmth. You held him tightly, even as his knees buckled and swayed. By the state of those green eyes, you could see resignation and defeat creeping up on him. 

You shared a look with Benny, and he knew, too. “I’ll keep watch. You make him rest, cher.” You’d come to learn that Benny preferred to keep watch from all the years he’d had to watch his own backside here. You’d survived in hiding, while he’d made a name for himself—a killer, like Dean (not that either of them ever wanted to be.) You had to give it to him, though. After all, you’d tried to fight off everything in the beginning, but it was too tiring, like living was. So instead, you learned to thrive in shadows and whispers, moving like a ghost through whispers of the trees.

You were grateful for the moment alone with the warm beacon of a man, though. If the electricity across your skin anytime you touched the human indicated anything, it was a confirmation of your heart’s longing. You kept him pulled flush against your chest, his heartbeat so strong that it reverberated through your body. You focused on the feeling. How many centuries had it been since you felt your own beating? Dean’s was so strong it could surely support you both, you thought.

With a groan, Dean pulled the two of you down into a horizontal heap. You couldn’t make out the details of his face in the dark abyss of night, but his heart rate had shifted notably, along with his breathing. His anguish was palpable and you couldn’t help but to take some of it on as your own. He exuded it, it leaked from every pore. 

Supple lips brushed against yours, and you closed your eyes, slowly guiding one hand to his back above you and the other through his hair. It was as soft and silky as you’d hoped it was. You pulled just slightly, allowing your nails to gently spread and retract in circular motions. Dean clenched, the softest sounds carrying on the thick night air. Smiling at the reaction, you carded through the messy spikes and repeated the measure for several moments before Dean crashed into you, with his sudden need matching yours. Every kiss grew deeper, longer, and your tongues began to wrestle gently but urgently between locked lips. He grabbed at you hungrily with a certain ease, unable to hold back anymore, with palms stroking openly up and down your torso, until they slipped below your core.

You both pushed and pulled, wallowed and rolled, careful of injuries but powerless to pull away, fighting to get closer. You helped him slip from his leather jacket, and he groaned into your mouth with a tantalising mixture of pain and pleasure. The sound made you shiver, and you hastily removed yourselves from worn and tattered pants, breaking only for a moment. 

“Shh, Dean,” you whispered next to his ear. He nodded, understanding that even in this embrace, you were exposed and hunted. But with skin on skin, it was difficult to keep logic and sanity at the forefront of your mind. 

Dean slowed his pace and shifted until you were straddling him. With a touch so light it tickled, he let his hands trace every angle of your body, until he felt the latest wound and drew back suddenly. 

“It’s okay,”  you breathed into his gaping mouth. 

“No, I-- I’m sorry.” His voice was feeble, desperate. 

Taking his hand in yours, you placed it back where it’d been. It was a small gesture, but the effect it had on Dean was profound. With both hands now, he clutched your sides so tightly, it sent swells of something delicious straight to your center, before rippling out to every nerve ending exposed to the cool air, and then some. 

Just as you began to give in, a rustle from only several feet away snapped you back to reality. You shot up upon bare feet, weapon already in your hand as you scanned the malevolent shadows for the source, listening and feeling for any shift in the air. Dean lay frozen by your feet, head still spinning in weakness and lust.

In a swift turn on the balls of your feet, you faced the intruder, ready for war. 

“It’s just me, cher. I heard something and wanted to make sure you two were okay.” As Benny took in the situation, he laughed softly. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ll be over there…”

With an annoyed frown, you allowed your stance to go slack. “Thanks.”

Dean touched your leg, leaning in to kiss it lightly before planting a little nibble at your ankle. You slipped back down next to him, gasping when he quickly found your neck and nipped along your clavicle to the sweet spot in the hollow of your neck.

He was shaking slightly under the strain, but lifted himself atop you. To help keep him steady, you placed your hands on his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his torso. With a grateful kiss, he traced his tongue across your bottom lips as he lined himself at your entrance. 

His tip sank into your soaked folds and his resulting keen made you tremble beneath him, itching for more. “Dean, p-please…”

“What do you want?”

You rotated your hips against his, fighting to make him move. “Please, fuck… Dean I need you. Need more.”

Your begging tore his resolve to shreds and he sunk into you, stretching and filling you like nothing ever before. Your back arched at the sensations as they nearly overwhelmed you, drowning out the hell around you and leaving only Dean. Your heavy breathing barely registered as you whined his name. A shallow shriek betrayed you. Dean placed a calloused hand over your mouth, and it only drove you more mad. 

As he bottomed out and began short but powerful thrusts, tears gathered at the edges of your eyes. Everytime, he hit that sweet spot. Everytime, you whimpered into his hand and dug your fingers into his flesh tighter. Everytime, he moaned in response. 

It wasn’t long before those slow, drawn out jolts coiled you so tight you could barely contain yourself. Dean could sense the change as you began to rub against him, allowing the friction to take you over the edge. Right as you fell off into a fierce and roiling sea of ecstasy, Dean replaced his hand over your mouth with his own, swallowing your choppy breaths as you twitched and spasmed beneath him. 

Still lost in the swell, you felt the hunter release and fall, spent, onto your chest. You managed to wrap your arms around him and held him steadfastly, not ready to let go. It was incredible to watch Dean unravel and relax for the first time. In fact, it’d just become your favorite drug. 

Unknown to the broken lovers, a pair of “gorilla-wolves” attempted to interrupt throughout the steamy romp in the leaves, but Benny quickly took care of them. The nasty things wouldn’t have gotten as close as they had, but the vampire had been distracted by the sinfully delicious sounds coming from the far side of the tree. He’d tried to ignore it at first but found his mind wandering. It’d been ages since he’d felt the touch of another being, and the want rose up in him, a fire in his stomach.

You panted next to Dean when he rolled to the side, your injuries far from mind in the lasting rapture from being one with the human. His breathing was still ragged, but slowing. The wound on the back of his shoulder had reopened. Begrudgingly , he let you patch it again. Once dressed, you fell back to the sorry bed of leaves. Dean nuzzled into your side and let out a pained sigh as sleep found him. You could’ve sworn you heard the faintest “Don’t let me die here…” fall from his lips. Your grip on him tightened. You’d get him out if it killed you. But first, you had to find that elusive angel.

It was another month of the same routine. Days and nights ran together. The closer you got to the angel, the denser the swarm of monsters was. Even Benny seemed to be on his last leg. You offered to keep watch this time. At first Benny protested, but you shut him down.

“It’s broad daylight out here. I can see them coming from far enough off, I can give you plenty of time to wake up and fight if I can’t handle it. Don’t worry.”

He didn’t feel like protesting too much, and finally nodded, sad blue eyes locking on yours in a silent promise of trust in comradery.

A few hours passed, and you stood to stretch. A twig snapped behind you, and you twirled quickly, your knife to Benny’s throat. His hands raised. “Sorry cher, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Nearly lost your fool head. Why aren’t you resting?” You dropped your arms and stood next to the vampire, staring out through the forest again, scanning. Listening.

“I rested enough.”

“Right, that’s why you have to use that tree to support yourself.” His lips pressed into a hard smile, electric eyes dropping to the ground. When he looked back up, something in them had changed. He reached towards you, hesitant, and brushed the wavy mess of hair from your face behind your ear, hand gently gliding across your jaw until his thumb rested on your lip.

You closed your eyes and shuddered under the vampire’s touch. It was more familiar than Dean’s. You leaned into it, following as it guided you into his embrace. He was larger than Dean and still smelled of the swamp and sea. The scent was intoxicating, dragging all of your attention to Benny. 

He pulled back for a moment and cradled your face in the large, thick hands of a sailor. “You okay with this? Don’t want you to feel pressured, darlin’.”

“Mm not pressured,” you smiled up into those spirited sharp blue eyes. You lost yourself in them, completely ensnared. You could see past them, to cerulean glittering waters, could feel the lapping of them against your old boat, hear the seagulls and crows chattering as they glided on heatwaves, taste the salt on your tongue. 

You stretched up on your tiptoes, craning to taste the salt on his lips, feel the waves in the way his tongue twists. Benny must have felt the same, as he met your parted lips in a feverish kiss, maneuvering you effortlessly between himself and the tree for support until he was rutting into you.

The touch was bittersweet and starved, driving both of you as you stripped away layers. Benny pressed into you until the bark bit into your back and arms. You knocked the hat from atop his head to get closer, to guide him in, and he responded by taking the thin flesh of your neck into his mouth. Fangs drug thin scratch lines over your chest and shoulders, followed by sucking kisses. Benny grunted as he settled next to your ear, the growing bulge in his remaining trousers becoming almost painful in the restriction. 

Sensing this, you moved to loosen the last piece of his clothing until it slumped to his ankles, all the while raw, needy noises spilled from your mouth. If only you’d found each other topside, things would have been better. You wouldn’t have let that young, long-haired hunter boy and his grumpy father kill you.

In one smooth move, Benny hooked his fingers into your jeans and slid them off, until you were completely free of them. With lust in your eyes, you found his full lips once more. You bit and sucked at his bottom lip until he was throbbing against you and whispering your name in short breaths in desperation. 

With a slight adjustment in position, he grabbed your ribcage and lifted you just enough to line himself at your entrance. Hungrily, you raised your knees and rested them on his sides. You dug your nails into his shoulders in anticipation, but he didn’t keep you waiting long. With a final shift of his angle, Benny slid into you unrestrained.

His pace was unforgiving. He was rougher, more desperate, yet somehow more controlled than Dean. Pain was something you both knew too well, and found pleasure in at this moment. Neither of you had to hold back in fear of hurting the other. 

Benny muttered a long string of praises as he placed his cheek on yours and relished in the fragmented breaths and mewls leaking from your gaping mouth.

Between the friction to your front and the sharp ache in your back, the intense set of his pace brought unwanted tears to the corners of your eyes. Before you knew it, he had you biting back a scream as you came in his arms, your back digging into the tree as he held you through it. You sank your teeth into his neck, drawing blood and pushing back the sharper set as they threatened to emerge. He snarled into your ear and released, standing for a moment, relishing in your closeness.

For a time, you just remained in that position as he softened inside you, foreheads resting fondly on each other.

Dean stirred, grumbling as he woke. With a silently shared promise to continue the embrace another day, the two of you straightened yourselves back out and rounded the tree to greet the sleep-starved human.

Over the next two weeks, the three of you grew much closer. Sometimes in between attacks, you took solace in each other. Most times it was talk, but when words were too difficult and your bodies needed to feel something… else, something primal and good and pure, they would pass you between them, never straying too far.

Benny's eyes would always drift and land upon Deans. It intoxicated him, pulled at his heart in ways that tore him apart. Deep green eyes, full of hope and goodness and humanity… something fragile yet unbreakable, much like what he once saw in Andrea’s. Just like Andrea’s. As much as he tried to put her memory to rest, Dean’s gaze would always take his breath, whether they were fighting or fucking, and the feelings that washed over Benny were wild and raw.

You ventured off to scout ahead one day, leaving Benny to help Dean walk after a surprise run in with a gorilla wolf didn’t fare so well. Those things sure liked Dean. Could you blame them? As you cleared the spaces ahead, you reminisced on the first time it happened. 

It’d started innocently enough, some kissing and tender touches traded between you and Dean. You craved comfort, and his touch never disappointed. The fading daylight illuminated something… different, something new in his eyes. There was a spark of acceptance? Resignation? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but for some reason the usually tightly wound hunter was relaxed. His movements were delicate and slow, a stark contrast to the usual quickie on the run. 

You nearly lost your balance when he stripped your pants away and traced deliberate sucking kisses down to your sweet spot. You’d had to catch yourself from falling over at the heady sensations, threading your hands into his hair and holding on for dear life (or death.) Within moments, Benny swooped in to support you from behind, snaking a strong arm around your stomach as Dean began to lick and hum and stroke you in ways you’d never felt. Your blood burned like fire, causing every inch of your skin to become more sensitive. 

Benny brushed the hair from your shoulder with his free hand, then took a fistful of it and guided your head back. With a contented sigh, he took your exposed neck into his mouth and you twitched violently between the shivers running down and the heat rising up. The contrast of Dean’s soft lips to the burn of his stubble mirrored that of the rough, blood soaked fabric of Benny’s jacket against the smooth of your skin… and it drove you mad. Your vision swelled with every wave and the sounds of the cursed world around you faded as if cotton had been shoved in your ears. 

Your legs gave way and you fell into Dean’s lap as he chuckled, watching you come undone. The orgasm hit you somewhere along the way down, untouched but wound so tightly that you couldn’t hold out another moment.

While you writhed against him, Dean held you securely to his chest with arms that crushed into your ribs and pinned your arms to your sides. Your head finally came to rest upon his shoulder, and as your senses eased back into focus, you realized that you were completely laid down upon his bare chest. Still buzzing from the high, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck and laid a small peck. Dean’s resulting smile stretched wide, and you could feel it there without even needing to see it. 

“You okay, baby?” Dean gently stroked your back up and down with one hand, and moved to tangle strong fingers in your hair to hold the base of your head tenderly with the other. 

When you found your voice, you muttered a small, “yeah, thank you.”

Benny kneeled beside you and lowered his face until your foreheads met, the three of you so impossibly close. “You up for some more, sugar?”

You smiled wryly and closed your eyes. “Yeah, I’m all yours.”

Though your limbs were but heavy gelatin, you managed to lift out of your shirt as the men undressed. Pulling Dean’s discarded coat over you like a blanket, you rested against a fallen tree and admired them. Dean was more slender, but faster and stronger. The way his muscles rippled and creased beneath pale, freckled skin reminded you of a swimmer--all lean and mean. He was graceful in every movement, like a dancer. Benny was a little more solid, built like a tank. Maybe he wasn’t as fast, but there was no going through him. You’d seen beasts hit him straight on with full power, and the vampire had barely flinched. Those fists could break anything, but his face was always… soft. Kind. Dean’s was hardened, but you couldn’t blame him. And yes, there were moments, like this, where the lines of his face smoothed, and some color returned to his cheeks. 

How you’d ever found Heaven in this Hell, you’d never come to understand. But you were ever grateful. Hopeful for a future with them topside, however it may go. 

Dean’s outstretched hand pulled you from your daydream. You took it, letting the jacket go as he helped you stand. As you stood, he continued to pull you forward until you were flush with him. He pressed a firm kiss to your scalp and rubbed his palms up and down your body. His cock twitched against your belly, and you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing just a little tighter at the new flood of arousal. 

Benny snaked his arms around you from behind, until his hands rested on your neck, not gripping, but just *there.* The weight of them naturally guided your head to fall back against his chest. He growled into your ear, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So good for us, cher.”

Your mouth fell agape and released a strangled moan as Dean kissed along your exposed neck and mumbled a steady stream of “You’re such a good girl for us, such a good fighter, a great companion.” 

With every word, a new fire raged through your veins. Your face burned hot. Dean’s hands wandered south, caressing every inch passionately. One hand found its home grasping your thigh right under your ass, and the other came to rest in your dripping folds. You bucked against the touch and right into Benny’s length resting between your cheeks. 

You whimpered, needing more, needing release. “D-Dean please, fuck. I need you. I want you inside me, please--unnghh.”

Dean teased your entrance for a moment more before the wrecked look on your face and the subtle, high pitched sounds spilling from you completely enraptured him. Benny nodded, moving his hands to steady your sides as you squirmed uncontrollably. With a swift movement, you were raised up with both of Dean’s hands cupping and spreading your ass until he lined up at your folds and let you sink down much too slowly. 

Pathetic cries filled the air as you struggled to maintain control, the stretch of him almost too much to handle and not nearly enough all at once. You shook and grabbed at anything you could hold with a flutter in your chest that threatened to make you implode. And yet, the intense feelings only grew. Benny planted himself and anchored with a strong arm outstretched and clutching to Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean bit his lip fiercely and let out a pained groan at the other man’s unyielding hold on him. His cock twitched again as he bottomed out deep inside you. The depth burned and ached, and with it your eyes came to focus on Dean’s. 

The emerald green was more prominent now, outlined by the hot blush beneath a spray of freckles. His brows were drawn tightly and jaw slack, full, pink lips parted in bliss. His breathing was erratic, and with every intake of cool evening air, Dean trembled. 

You mewled and whined, shifted against them, desperate for friction. The slightest broken smile graced the hunter’s face and he nodded, knowing but not yet ready. 

Tears already began to gather as you fought the urge to physically fight the men into submission, to finally scratch that itch. Benny didn’t leave you waiting much longer though, before he was slipping and pushing into place in your ass. The deliberate burn of him spreading you open opposite Dean left you thrashing between them. 

Dean took a deep breath in as a reminder for you to do the same. If it weren’t for him grounding you and helping you through, the black void would’ve already sucked you in as another victim. You did your best to relax and bore down, allowing Benny to fill your other hole completely to his base. 

The vampire grimaced through his own keening, the tightness of you nearly sending him over the edge right there and then. You stilled between them, already on the verge of destruction as the three of you adjusted to the new feelings washing over you in waves. 

Dean’s lips found yours, open and wanting. Taking his tongue hungrily into your mouth, you sucked and fell absolutely limp as he sucked your lower lip between his. The scent of him was utterly intoxicating, and you were ready once more. 

Benny began to move in tandem with Dean. With every movement of the both of them against your thin membrane, a wailing cry seeped between your clenched teeth. Benny was now clutching both of Dean’s shoulders so tightly that were white bloodless patches beneath each of his fingertips. This made Dean buck harder until the hunter’s eyes shut tightly and left his head bobbing backwards in lust. 

The symphony of your cries was lost beneath those of the two men, who shuddered and swayed. The sweet, sinful music flooded your mind and sent you reeling over the edge once more, clenching and swearing and falling against Benny’s outstretched arm. 

Dean’s thrusts faltered as his stuttered, “I’m.. I’m about to--”

“Just let go, brother,” Benny encouraged. 

It was the only confirmation Dean needed before his load spilled into you, sending renewed longing to your stomach as he pulsed inside you. “Fuck Dean,.. You feel so good,” you managed.

Benny came seconds later, and you relished in the full warmth of them. 

You smiled to yourself as the familiar electricity flooded your veins and leaked to your core. It may have been the first time, but every time since had only been… better. Impossibly, incredibly better. 

Upon your return, you noticed that Dean had found new strength.

“We’re closer than ever to Cas, he’s three days away by the river. We’re almost done! We can go home!” Dean was grinning widely, a spark finally back in his tired eyes.

You smiled, scooping him into a rough embrace. If Dean was happy, you were happy. Benny joined you in the bear hug. You were so ready to be topside again, and now, it was so close you could just taste it.

Your second chance.

With a start, Benny hollered and let go, leaving Dean tense and alert in your arms. Then, he threw you to the side as a beast attacked. Its whole face morphed into a shark-tooth ringed mouth, and you grimaced.

Leviathan. You must’ve been really close to that angel.

You drew your weapon as one engaged you, swung and lopped its head off easily after years of practice, until something glinting and sharp emerged where it should not have been.

You looked down, the blade bloodied and protruding through your chest, through your lungs. Unable to draw a breath, you fell to your knees.

“No!” Both Benny and Dean were yelling, voices echoing through the hostile forest. Black ooze covered them from the slain monsters. You looked up as your assailant withdrew the sizable knife from your back and placed it against your neck. It was another vampire. You looked back to the boys.

“You killed our sister, so now we’re gonna kill yours,” the voice behind you teased in a sing-songy tone. More boots shuffled into your line of view.

Benny looked absolutely broken as he charged, extra teeth bared sharply in defiance. Dean bounded to you, holding your gaze with those emerald green eyes as he expertly dodged the advances of his adversaries.

Once again, your breath was seized and you relaxed your tense muscles. If this was finally what wiped you into oblivion, it would be okay, as long as you could stare into the comforting depths of that hunter’s eyes. After all, you were tired of fighting…This would finally be the end of the suffering. To oblivion. The warmth from Dean’s soul flooded over you as he got closer, but it was too late.

Your head rolled from your body. 

Dean decimated the group of vampires in record time, the rage fully restored and urging his body forward against all odds. Once again, the hunter had become more vicious than any monster in the land. In two days, he would limp to the river and find his angel.

You, however, woke on the other side of Purgatory. Oblivion was not something that would ever come for you. There would never be a release. Despair, overcoming any hope you ever had, creeped its dark tendrils through your entire being and swiped your feet from underneath you. So that’s what happens to monsters who die in monster heaven… they get respawned and zapped to another part. Great. You were stuck in hell, too far away now to reach them in time. One day you would find a way out. You had to. But first, you would have to find the strength. Strength you may never have again. You curled into a ball, mind silent as you gave into the feeling, a single, small tear streaking a thin line from your eye into the dust. 

You were alone. Again. 

Your second chance gone along with the human and his friends.

 This was my second attempt at writing smut and maybe I got carried away??

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles​ @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch​ @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog​ @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0​ @impala-dreamer​ @arryn-nyxx​ @idk-life01 @attorneyl​ @deathtonormalcy56​ @xwing-baby​ @wonder-cole​ @itsangelpie-supports​ @thinkinghardhardlythinkingogblog​@icecream-and-gadreel

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling​ @abbessolute @emptywithout​

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278​ @will-winchester

[440mxs-wife]

Best Medicine

Imagine: Dean taking care of you when you're sick.

You first felt it in the back of your throat. That dry, scratchy feeling that you knew would turn into something worse if you didn't take care of it right away. Problem was, you guys had to leave that morning for a hunt. You knew, though, that if you said something to Dean, he would leave you behind. It's been weeks since the three of you had been out on a hunt. The monster world had been pretty quiet lately, and you were grateful for something to finally break the silence.

You carefully extracted yourself from Dean's arm wrapped around your middle and sat up on the edge of the bed, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness. "Whoa," you whispered. You gripped the mattress with one hand and the headboard with the other, trying to steady yourself.

This did not go unnoticed by Dean, who propped himself up on one elbow. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, stroking the back of your arm.

You turned to face him and gave him a quick smile. "I'm fine, Dean. I think I just sat up too fast, that's all. I'm going to start getting ready, you know we have that demon problem to take care of two towns over," you reminded him.

"You sure you're up for it? Me and Sam can cover it if you want to hang back here," Dean offered.

"I swear, I'm fine, Dean," you insisted. "This is the first case we've had in weeks, otherwise it's been radio silence. I'm getting a little stir crazy here." You leaned over and kissed his forehead, then stood up to head to the showers.

You took a nice hot and steamy shower, which felt good for a number of reasons. You hoped that doing so would help keep the germs from settling in and making a home in your sinuses. As you got dressed, you found that you felt a little better than you did when you first woke up, though not 100%. If you could just get through this hunt, you promised yourself that once you got back, you would rest and get better.

Fortunately, it was a six-hour drive to where the demons were running loose in town, so you stretched out across the back seat of the Impala. By the time you left town, you were rocked to sleep by the deep rumble of the Impala's engine.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean glanced back at her from the rearview mirror. He was concerned that you weren't feeling well before departing from the bunker. You were stubborn, though, and refused to stay home, insisting on joining the case. Probably good that you had been sleeping for most of the trip. Dean made up his mind that he would keep a close eye on you throughout the hunt for any new signs of illness.

"What's going on, Dean?" Sam asked as he also turned to look in the back seat. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. She was feeling a little under the weather this morning. I offered to let her stay home from this case, but she insisted on coming with us. Hope it's nothing serious. I'll keep a close eye on her, don't worry," Dean explained.

"Oh, I know, I just hope she's feeling okay," Sam replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After the three of you were successful in taking out the demons, you were looking forward to getting back home to the bunker. You had managed to hold off most of the symptoms until after the hunt was over, but you knew that your time of reckoning was coming. Hot, steamy shower, then turn in early, you thought.

Sam hit the showers first. You and Dean sat on the bed, your backs against the headboard and you started watching a movie on TV. You snuggled up to Dean, your head laying on his left thigh. He pushed a lock of hair behind your ear, and frowned a little when he felt how warm your forehead was.

"Sweetheart, are you feeling okay? You seem awfully warm, like you have a fever or something," Dean remarked.

"It's probably just a cold or something, no big deal. My throat was a little scratchy and dry this morning, and my sinuses are a little stuffy now. I'll take a nice hot and steamy shower to clear my sinuses, then turn in early so I can get lots of sleep," you promised with a sleepy smile.

"Baby, I wish I'd known you were feeling like this. Sam and I could've done this ourselves, so you could've recuperated here. You didn't have to come with us if you were sick," Dean replied.

"I know, but hunters really don't get sick days. We had a job to do, and I decided to power through to get it done. Besides, if you had left me here, I'd be worrying about things going sideways and one or both of you getting hurt. I'm not going to let a little cold get in the way of doing my job," you finished.

Dean gave up trying to argue with you as you waited for Sam to get out of the shower. Once he was done, you went in and took the hottest and steamiest shower you could stand. When you came out, you saw that the boys had gone out, probably to get something for dinner. You dried off then put on your pajama pants, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt that you had borrowed from Dean one day.

You turned off the bedroom light. You crawled under the covers and pulled them up to your neck, desperately trying to combat the chills and now aches you were feeling. It didn't help that you had wet hair, but you knew that wasn't the only reason you were cold. You pulled up the hood on the sweatshirt so it was over your head, huddled under the blankets and waited for Sam and Dean to come back.

Some time later, you felt the side of the bed dip under someone's weight sitting beside you. A hand was pressed up against your forehead, followed by a kiss. "Dammit, she's burning up, Sam. Can you get me that bottle of Tylenol out of the bag?" Dean said in a worried tone.

You cracked one eye open and saw Dean with a furrowed brow, fishing two tablets out of the bottle for you. "Hey, sweetheart, you need to take these. It'll get your fever down so you can feel better. Baby, please sit up so you can take this." You obeyed, washing the tablets down with the bottle of water Dean handed you, then your head dropped back onto your pillow. "There you go. That's my girl," he said softly as he kissed your forehead.

Dean left the room to get cleaned up. Ten minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered. He slipped beneath the covers and curled up next to you. He noticed that although your body felt warm, you were shivering like you were ice cold. Dean wrapped his arm around your midsection, then drew you close to him so that you were nearly flush against his body. "Good night, sweetheart. Hope you feel better in the morning," he mumbled against your shoulder.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you still weren't feeling 100%. You knew your fever broke sometime during the night, because your pajamas were sticky from sweating under the blankets. You still had a stuffy nose, but now a hacking cough was among your list of symptoms. No kisses on the lips from Dean for a while, you thought as a cough wracked your body.

Dean's arm tightened a little around your midsection, but you gently pushed back. You wanted to take a shower after sweating so much to break your fever. You sat upright on the edge of the bed, trying to get your bearings. Dean reached over to your spot on the bed and came up empty, which woke him up out of concern. "Babe? You okay?" he asked in that husky, early morning voice.

"I'm okay, my love. I promise. Now go back to sleep. My fever broke sometime during the night, so now I feel all sweaty. I'm going to go take a quick shower," you explained, as another coughing fit came on.

Dean propped himself up on one elbow and with his free hand, and rubbed your back until you stopped coughing. "Okay, but come back to bed when you are done after your shower. You need rest, not to be up and around doing stuff," he remarked sternly.

"Yes, Dr. Winchester. I promise I will rest today and leave the doing of stuff to you and Sam," you sassed, kissing his forehead.

"Don't make me lock you in here, woman. I'll do it if that's what it takes to get you to take care of yourself and get well," he warned.

You thought for a moment, then asked, "So, if I don't do as you say, will you lock yourself in here with me? I mean, that's probably the only way to get me to do as you ask."

Dean rolled his eyes, then grinned at you. "Get thee to the showers, woman," he pointed the way, then laid back down on the bed and closed his eyes.

One shower and a change of clothes later, you took your pillow and your blanket, and curled up on one end of the couch. Dean was passing through the room and saw you all snug in your blanket. He had told you to recuperate in your bedroom, but you looked so peaceful, that he couldn't bring himself to disturb your rest. He laid a hand on your forehead and gently kissed it to gauge your body temperature. Still a little warm, he thought to himself. I'll check back on you later, sweetheart, he silently promised.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

With nothing much to do, Dean decided to watch a movie, so he put on a Clint Eastwood western. He sat next to you and rested one hand on your upper thigh while you slept. About one-third of the way through the movie, you started to toss and turn in your sleep. You were also mumbling something, as if you were having a nightmare.

From what Dean could tell, it involved him being in danger, how you couldn't get to him in time and you seemed to be crying. "Shh, sweetheart, everything's okay. I'm right here," he crooned, gently easing you into his arms. "Oh, babe, you feel so warm right now, and that's not good. We gotta get you cooled off," he remarked as he called for Sam.

"What's up, Dean? She still feverish?" he asked.

"Yeah, and I think it's getting worse. I just woke her up from a nightmare, but I wonder if the fever was causing it a little somehow. I'm worried, Sam. If we don't get her fever down and soon, we may have to take her to the hospital," Dean replied.

"Okay, you have her take a couple more Tylenol, and I'll get a cold washcloth for her forehead. Then maybe we can call Cas to see if he can be of any help," Sam said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Over the next few hours, Dean kept a close eye on you, re-wetting the washcloth with cold water as needed and keeping it on your forehead. Around lunchtime, Dean brought you a bowl of chicken broth to help you keep up your strength. He gently nudged you awake and he was rewarded with that sleepy smile of yours that you know he loves so much.

"Hey, sweetheart, it's time for lunch. I made you some chicken broth," he said.  "Careful, babe, the mug is kind of hot. Here, let me help you." You maneuvered to a sitting position while Dean held onto the mug. Once you were settled, you held out your hands and he passed you the broth, along with some crackers.

"Thank you, Dean. This was very sweet of you to make lunch for me," you said softly.

He brushed his knuckles along your cheek. "Anything for you, my love. I just want you to get better, so making some soup for you is not a big deal," he answered.

"It is for me, Dean. Love is about the little things too, like you taking care of me when I'm not feeling well," you explained. After you had finished the broth, you handed him the empty mug, which he returned to the kitchen.

When he sat back down on the couch, you wrapped yourself back up in your blanket again. You snuggled up to Dean's chest and he wrapped one arm around you, keeping you close to his side. Soon you were fast asleep.

Slowly but surely over the next day or so, your body temperature came down and stayed down, then you began to feel more like yourself. Three days after it had all started, you were finally back to normal. You decided to repay Dean for the kindness he had shown in taking such good care of you.

You opened the bedroom door to find Dean sitting in his chair, flipping through some weapons catalog. You closed and locked the door behind you, leaning against it. Dean looked up from his reading, and gave you his sexiest smile. "May I help you?" he asked.

You sauntered over to him in his chair. "I wish to thank you for the kindness that you showed me during my recent bout with illness," you replied. Leaning in next to his ear, you whispered, "I'm feeling MUCH better now." As you pulled back, you flashed him a smile, which he returned.

"Is that so?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. You nodded. "And just how will you repay this 'kindness', as you say?"

You lowered yourself onto his lap so that you were straddling his waist. "How's this for starters?" you asked breathily. He pulled you towards him and crashed his lips against yours. The intense passion in his eyes took you by surprise. When you gasped in shock, he took advantage as his tongue slid in to dance with yours. His hands roamed up and down your back, causing you to tilt your head back. Dean peppered your neck with kisses, taking a moment to nip at the skin, leaving his mark.

"Ooh, Dean, that feels amazing," you whispered. You eased yourself off of Dean's lap and started backing up towards the bed. When you felt the mattress hit the back of your legs, you sat down on the bed. Dean followed you, towering over you as his mouth continued to move in sync with yours.

"I must say, Dr. Winchester, I believe that this is the best medicine of all," you murmured.

"Woman, you say the sweetest things," Dean growled as he captured your lips again.

[tricksandtales]

Chapter 13: Silver Lining

When the world surrounds you / I'll make it go away / Paint the sky with silver lining / I will try to save you – Hurts

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 The fever had come on quickly.

 Riley had woken up to a slight headache, eyes opening to the darkness of her bedroom in the bunker. The darkness made her miss her apartment sometimes. She’d always enjoyed the feeling of sunlight on her face. But for the most part she wasn’t unhappy in the bunker. Though telling time of day was a bitch.

 She flicked on the lamp near her bed and groaned as the light seemed to burst through her eyes and stab her skull from the inside. Dark is good, she thought as she turned off the lamp, the darkness was honestly welcome as it seemed to make her head hurt slightly less. Another thought occurred to her, ‘could angels get sick?’

After a few more minutes of sitting in the soothing darkness, Riley braved the lamp once more. It still hurt, but she gave her eyes time to adjust and that made it barrable. Next step get out of bed. Riley stood quickly, which caused a wave of dizziness to wash over her. Her hand came to forehead as she sat back down, her fingers massaged her forehead back through her hair, sighing in annoyance.

 It took her a moment but she got up again, slower this time, and stumbled to the door. She rested against the cool surface for a moment, hands pressed flat and hair falling like a curtain around her face. When she finally moved again she was steadier, though still rather slow.

 What she found beyond her door was an empty bunker. Cursing in her head, Riley remembered that the boys had all gone off to take care of some demons that had infested a town two days away. She vaguely recalled Jack’s excitement over going with them, and Dean saying to call if there was an emergency. Well, this wasn’t an emergency. She was just sick.

 Half weaving from the lightheadedness, and half from the heaviness in her limbs, Riley made her way through to he living room. She flopped down onto the couch and sat staring up at the ceiling. She was not going to call and interrupt the hunt, but sick still sucked.

 She changed positions, laying down and curling around a pillow on the couch. But that didn’t seem to help at all, her head still pounding.

 There was no way she could deal doing much today. Not until she figured some way to tame the symptoms. What she needed was water and medication, probably food. But the energy just wasn’t there to get up. Her limbs felt heavy, her head pounded, she was dizzy. Her hand on her forehead proved she was feverish.

 After what seemed like an hour of being stubborn, Riley finally gave up. She was going to need help.

 Who to call was the question. Of course, her first thought had been Gabriel, but she had let her mind glide past that thought quickly, not wanting to bother him – or think about why he’d been her first thought.

 She really didn’t want to bother Sam and Dean. Jack would have no idea what to do. Jody was too far away. Castiel would be okay, but she couldn’t imagine he had any bedside manner. And the boys may need him. She dismissed him as well.

 But she circled back around, sighing, because Gabriel really would know what to do. And despite his penchant for pranking, and flirting, he would probably be the most compassionate. And wasn’t that a sad thought, that he archangel would be her first choice out of the group for help when sick.

 Though, on second thought, Sam would probably be a really good nurse. He had that sweet compassionate personality that spoke of wanting to care for people. The image of Sam dressed as a nurse, complete with little outdated hat, was pretty funny. Actually, Dean was supposed to be the nurse. No, she decided, they could both be nurses. And Cas would wear cowboy boots. She giggled, slightly out of it. But the Dr. Sexy gag really did need to happen.

 Shaking herself to be rid of the chain of thought, she sighed and admitted there was really no else. Riley figured she might as well get the mocking over with. Because Gabriel was likely to tease her for calling him.

 She slid off the couch and onto her knees, not really considering the fact that Gabriel would hear her no matter what position she was in. But years of praying by her bedside on her knees formed a pretty strong habit, and so when her mind said pray, her sick addled body reacted without much thought. Hands folded together, eyes closed, she tried to move past the slight fog and call out to the archangel.

 “Well, if I’d known you’d be on your knees waiting for me, I’d have come quicker.” His voice behind her made Riley jerk slightly, head whipping to gaze over her shoulder. Of course, in her wobbly state the sudden movement caused her to lose her balance and start tipping backward.

 Luckily strong arms caught her, lifting her up. Riley opened her eyes to find herself cradled against Gabriel’s chest, a worried look in his eyes as he studied her. “Riley? You okay?”

 “No.” She mumbled, letting herself lay limply in his arms for a moment. It felt really nice to be held. And in her unguarded state she didn’t think to stop herself from just enjoying his arms under her, or the warmth that was spreading from the multiple points of contact with his form.

 “Hey.” He said, coaxing her attention back to him, her eyes flickering to his face. “Riley, come on, what’s wrong.”

 “Don feel good.” She mumbled. She felt groggy, and the thought about how nice it would be to fall asleep in his arms flittered through her mind.

 “Yeah, I see that.” His voice cut through her fog again. Gabriel moved gracefully over to the couch, setting her down. Riley made a sound of protest at the loss of his warmth. But his hand came to rest on her forehead. “You’re burning up, sugar.”

 “Fever, m’think.”

 “Yeah. But angels don’t get fevers.” Gabriel moved his hand through her hair, petting her softly. “I’m going to check out what’s wrong, okay?” Riley nodded under his hand. A sudden tingly feeling started in her head and washed through her. Riley giggled at the sensation. It withdrew after a moment and Gabriel made a sound of displeasure.

 “Whs wrong?”

 “Your grace.” He sighed, but didn’t seem freaked out, so there was that. He indicated for Riley to lift her head, then sat down, allowing Riley’s head to rest on his lap. His fingers then returned to running through her hair, gently.

 She had to focus, but he was making it difficult with his ministrations, “What about my grace.”

 “When angels are formed, it starts with our grace and bodies are then built around it. You are kind of the reverse, as you already had a body and your grace was added after. Although the grace actually managed to mesh with you originally, as it grows there will probably be some, shall we say, growing pains. This is one of them. You’ve built up enough grace that it’s burning through your cells, starting to change them.”

 “How?”

“You’ll heal faster. Get hurt less. Your energy levels will rise. You’ll need less sleep.”

 “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

 “It’s not. Just, it’ll probably suck for a day or too as your cells fuse with the grace running through them.”

 “Humanity fighting back?”

 “Something like that.” He’d changed his ministrations and was now massaging her scalp. Riley made a pleased sound, it was almost purr like in its contentment, thinking he had the loveliest hands, and he really knew how to use them. Her eyes closed as she enjoyed the sensation.

 A few minutes later, she dozed off.

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 The thing about living in a bunker was that it was certainly hard to tell time, the lightening never changed. Riley blinked into the dimness of the room around her for the second time that day, hand coming up to rub the sleep from her eyes. She blindly groped for the lamp on her table but found no table and no lamp. Her sleep muddled mind took a moment to come to the conclusion she was not in her bedroom. Her eyes finally adjusted to the half-light of the room and she found her cell phone next to her on the couch.

 She was in the living room, on the couch, wrapped snuggly in a blanket. Her phones’ too bright display almost blinded her for a moment, but she was finally able to make out that it was late morning, almost lunchtime. Her tummy made a rumbly sound in agreement.

 Riley shifted into a sitting position and winced when her head pulsed in pain again. It was much less then earlier though. And she wasn’t feeling nearly as dizzy or fuzzy. The heaviness was there, and testing her forehead revealed she still felt warm.

 “Well, looks like the patient is awake.”

 And there was the source of why she was probably feeling better. Gabriel was leaning in the door frame. Her eyes moved to him. Later she would swear it was the just waking up thing, or making the sick thing, but Riley took a moment to appreciate the sheer deliciousness of him. He was wearing a gray button up, the sleeves rolled up above his elbows, and the topmost button undone. His hair was mussed a bit, but it almost always was. He had just the lightest dusting of stubble, which Riley itched to press her hand against and feel if it was as soft as his hair or if it would be course. Her eyes narrowed in on his lips and the now knowing smirk that seemed to reside there. Riley groaned and buried her face in her hands, hiding from that smirk.

 She really needed to get a hold on her thoughts. Though at least she had the excuse of being sick for her unguardedness. “Oh, don’t stop now, cupcake, I love some good ego stroking.” His voice was mirthful. Riley groped for something to throw at his stupid face. All she found was the blanket and her cell phone. Neither would make quiet the projectile she wanted. Defeated, Riley slumped back, glaring. He let the smirk fall, “Aww, Rye. I was teasing. I didn’t mean to make you stop smiling. I like it when you smile.” He had started moving toward her.

 She pressed her lips in an attempt to stop the smile that she knew she’d break into. He always had a way of turning her annoyance into laughter. Though, honestly, the look on his face was very unfiltered and open. It didn’t look like teasing.

 When he reached her, and knelt in front of her, Riley felt her heart stutter. He was still looking at her with such soft eyes. He reached forward and pressed his hand to her forehead, then leaned forward and pressed his own against the other side of his hand. “You’re still warm.” He murmured.

 “It’s no wonder.” She mumbled. As he was so close, kissing distance even, and her face was stained red from blushing.

 He leaned away and stood in one graceful motion. “Can you walk?”

 “Um. Yeah.” Riley’s gaze was downcast, looking at his shoes now. She’d hoped he couldn’t see the blush. He stepped back, allowing her room to get up. She stood slowly but wobbled slightly. Gabriel reached forward, his hands grasping her hips, steadying. Riley flicked her eyes to his once more, “Maybe.” She admitted.

 His smile was gentle, and he leaned forward, sliding one arm to her knees and one on her back, lifting her with no effort. Her arms automatically raised to wrap around his neck, and she tilted her head to gaze up at him. “Thank you.”

 “Of course,

 “Hungry?” He asked.

 “God yes.” She murmured. He started walking, and Riley thought to protest, but he made her feel light as air. And it was nice to be taken care of for once, especially by a certain angel.

 He carried her to the kitchen where he placed her gently down at table. Then, surprisingly he started pulling out pans, pots, supplies. Riley was flabbergasted, was he actually going to cook? He glanced over his shoulder at her and gave his telltale smirk. Riley watched, head resting on her hand, as he did in fact cook. It was only spaghetti, but still, he’d cooked for her. It was really really sexy. And sweet, adorably sweet. Especially as he presented a plateful of pasta with a flourish. Riley giggled at his antics, and Gabriel bowed as if he had accomplished a great feat of strength.

 “Thank you.” She murmured, “You’re kind of amazing.” She took a large forkful of pasta and almost moaned at the taste. It was perfect. And she was starving. Her focus solely on the food, she didn’t notice the contemplatively look that had entered Gabriel’s eyes at her words. Or the small, truly happy smile that accompanied it. “Are you not eating?”

 “Nah. Not really hungry.”

 “Well, don’t just stare.” She murmured, realizing he was sitting at the table, watching her.

 “What should I do?” His voice was light, teasing.

 “Tell me why you can cook.” He laughed out loud, the sound causing tingles down Riley’s spine. “I mean, what makes an archangel, turned Norse god, turned trickster need to learn to cook?”

 “Most curiosity then anything else. I was curious if food tasted better if I snapped it up, or if it was made by hand.”

 “And which is it?” She asked, truly interested. Though, considering her plate was almost empty she kind of figured the answer.

 “Always handmade.” He leaned back in the chair.

 “Did you try a lot of different things?”

 “Yep. I started when I’d first found my way to earth. The Gods were always dining and having feasts. I swear Odin could hold a feast for the stupidest things.” He laughed, caught up in his memories, “I think he once held a feast for his wife’s goat.”

 “Please tell me they didn’t eat the goat.” She blurted.

 “No. That time I think it was cattle of some nature. So, after awhile I figured I’d see if I could make things as good as snapping them. Snapping is certainly faster and easier, but sometimes you can’t beat the taste of something actually cooked fresh. Plus, when blending in, using my grace wasn’t always an option.”

 Riley smiled down at her plate, “I appreciate your help. And this.” She gestured to the food. “Do you have a favorite meal?”

 “Hm…” He sounded thoughtful.

 “Beside dessert.” She qualified and laughed at his pout.

 “Not really. I like food, but there’s no real favorite.” Riley felt a wash of a disappointment. “What?” He asked, sensing it.

 “Oh. I was hoping to cook for you sometime.”

 “Just for me?” He breathed out. His gaze fixing her in place. It was rather intense, and Riley felt another blush begin.

 “Well, yeah.” Riley grinned at him, “Hasn’t anyone ever made a meal just for you.”

 He ducked his head, “Not really. But I’d like it if you did.”

 “I’d like to.” She responded, then took the last delicious forkful of the spaghetti. Her plate and fork were gone as soon as she’d placed the fork back on the table. Gabriel hadn’t even snapped, but he did wink at her surprised expression.

 “So gumdrop, what would you like to do?”

 “I should….”

 He cut her off, “Not what you should do. What would you like to do?”

 A strange idea struck her, one that she wasn’t sure he’d go along with. But it was Gabriel, so who knew….“When I was a kid, whenever I was sick I’d sit in front of the tv and color.”

 The slow grin that spread across his face reminded her of a kid who’d just found out it was Halloween. “Oh. We can do that.” Of course, the trickster would jump at the idea of acting childish.

 “No x-rated coloring books.” She added, realizing the opening she’d given him.

 “No fun.” He winked at her, “But fine. If you insist.” He stood with a slight hop, then before Riley could protest she was in his arms again, a peel of laughter escaping as he swung her around. She was still laughing as he half danced them down the hallway, and when he entered the living area again, and set her gingerly on the floor.

 The laughter turned into a delighted smile as he slid down next to her and with a snap of his fingers produced a stack of coloring books and crayons. Of course there was also a bowl of candy, cheery starburst, and music started to softly play from the record player in the back of the room. Riley’s smile was echoed by Gabriel, who reached forward and snagged a candy.

 “Only cherry?” She teased.

 “They’re the best.” He sounded affronted.

 “I like the pink ones.”

 Sighing, he snapped his fingers and the bowl now contained a mix of pink and red candies. Despite acquiescing, Gabriel took this as a challenge and started listing all of the candy where the red ones tasted the best. And of course, Gabriel had tried a lot of candies. As he went on, Riley sighed and rolled her eyes.

 Finally, after another minute straight of his rambling Riley shoved her hand over his mouth, effectively muffling his words.

 He blinked up at her in surprise. Riley’s hand was feather light on his lips, just enough to indicate that he should shut up, but not enough to set off his huddle in a corner in fear reaction. Riley was quite aware that he didn’t like his mouth covered. Not after his imprisonment.

 After a moment, Gabriel smiled into her hand and laid a soft kiss on her palm. Riley’s whole body went on red alert and the feel of his lips pressed against her palm and she suddenly jerked away, eyes wide and pink once again coloring her cheeks.

 Gabriel’s eyebrow raised in question, but when Riley didn’t flee, he turned to the coloring books and pulled out, of course, a red crayon, and started coloring. It took Riley a moment to shake out of her stupor and realize he was coloring candy shaped lines. Of course the coloring books would be candy themed. “You going to actually color, or just stare at me all day?” He asked lightly.

 Riley took in a great gulp of air, wet her lips, and instead of getting her own book, she shoved his hand playfully and started coloring a different part on the page he was working on. She had purposefully chosen a pink crayon.

 “Going to be like that, is it?” His teasing tone made Riley bump his shoulder with her own.

 “You wouldn’t have it any other way.” She threw back. He laughed, but didn’t push her away.

 They spent a rather enjoyable afternoon coloring in silly pictures and listening to old music. Whenever Riley needed or wanted something, it was quick to appear. Water. Tea. A blanket to wrap up in. He even cooked dinner – okay, heated dinner – as he served her canned chicken noodle soup. The whole day Gabriel dotted on her.

 When Riley eventually drifted off to sleep that night, she felt relaxed and happy. Gabriel watched her doze off, and snapped them back to her bedroom, where he set her lightly on her bed, and draped a soft grey blanket over her form. Riley half asleep, grumbled at being moved but she couldn’t rouse herself enough to care about anything at that point. She really couldn’t remember a day when she’d felt nearly as content or light hearted.

 Especially, as a whispered good night accompanied her into her dreams.

[cracked-treetopper-angel]

Getting Spoiled and Feeling Rotten

Part 3 of the Family Made of Blood and Grace series

Masterlist

Okay, this is the next to last part to my story. as usual thanks everyone who has encouraged me to write, namely @lucifer-in-leather who i’ve been bouncing ideas off of. I hope you’ve liked this series.

Words: 1916

Warnings: Fluff and angst

About twenty minutes passed before John came back. He was no longer smiling the Cheshire smile, but rather a very distracting smile that softened his dark eyes. He stood just inside the door and held out a bathrobe, meaning for Kit to change into it. She took it and he stepped into the hall, allowing her to close the door to change. The robe was soft and it wasn’t one of the ones like those Dean had found, it was blue and plush. She opened the door again and took John’s offered hand, following him. He led her to the big bathroom that had a tub and a shower, he’d lit some incense or maybe a candle because there was a pleasant aroma to the room. The tub was filled and that’s where he directed her.

John pulled lightly at the sash on Kit���s robe and it came undone, she shrugged it off and stepped into the tub. The water was the perfect temperature and she could feel the last of the bath salts dissolving and it made her skin tingle.

-John’s pov-

If there was anything that said ‘I love you and I’m here to take care of you’ better than running that person a bath, John didn’t know what it was, except maybe cooking for them but one thing at a time. He saw the smile on Kit’s face as she relaxed in the tub, he hoped the water hadn’t been too hot. He knelt next to the tub and cupped some water in his hands, he dampened her hair, untangling it with his fingers, then massaged in the shampoo. He knew that kit usually didn’t go for smelly-good stuff, and only on occasion wore perfume but he knew she had it for when she decided to pamper herself.

He massaged her temples, knowing that’s where she felt the headaches worst. He heard a sigh leave Kit’s lips as he continued to massage her scalp. He took a container and used some of the bathwater to rinse out the shampoo. He followed the same with the conditioner and then brushed it out.

-kit’s pov-

After she felt John’s hands stop playing with her hair she heard him get up and then he was kneeling next to the tub where she could see him. “Thank you.” She said with a smile as he made himself comfortable. “You’re welcome sweetheart.” He answered. She took his hand and traced her thumb over his knuckles, over the scar he’d gotten from a fight once. He pulled her hand to his and brushed his mouth over her knuckles. His scruff brushed over her hand which tickled a little especially with her skin becoming sensitized from the cool air on her wet skin.

“The headache feeling any better?” he asked, trying to keep himself distracted. “Yes, this was a great idea. Thank you.” She said, pulling him in for a kiss. She carded her damp hand through his hair, making it stick up a bit. He moved so she could continue to toy with his hair, she must have looked pensive because he raised an eyebrow in a ‘what is it?’ sort of way. “Nothing,” Kit muttered. “This is really helping all my sore spots, and doing a lot for my headache. Think I’m ready to get out though.” John smirked and stood, retrieving a towel and the robe before offering a hand to help her from the water. She stepped out and he wrapped the fluffy towel around her, drying her arms before letting her take the towel and dry herself off. She dropped the towel and shrugged back into the robe. After that John wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck.  “Let’s go find you some pajamas.” He said, leading her in the direction of the bedrooms. He looked in her dresser and found her pajama pants and a t-shirt she’d ‘borrowed’ from him a while back, he handed them to her with a pair of underwear and stepped out to allow her to dress. Once she was dressed and he was back in the room, she wondered what else he had in mind. “How about watching some movies?” He asked. “Sounds good. In here or in the other room?” you wondered. “How about in here, or in my room, it’d be more comfortable than that couch.” He suggested. “Sounds good.”

They got comfortable on Kit’s bed and called up Netflix on her tv. “Anything you want to watch?” John just shook his head so she clicked on the first thing on her ‘continue watching’ list, it was a show about a special agent who went undercover often and usually for a long time as part of his job, each time he went under it was with a different name and backstory, a backstory so deep that it could stand up against scrutiny. The main character also had a past life that he couldn’t remember, though because of various things he was beginning to slowly remember and it was worrying him and those around him.

“Weren’t you reading a book that had the name Legends?” John asked as you curled up together to watch. “Yeah, the series is based on that book. So far it seems like they kept pretty close to the source material.” Kit said, getting comfortable. They watched a few episodes before looking for a movie. They found one and after a while John heard Kit’s breath become slow and even, she’d fallen asleep on him. He paused the movie and shifted carefully, and before long they were both asleep and managed to sleep for a while with no problematic dreams troubling them.

They woke to the sound of knocking on the door. John had apparently told the boys that he was going to be spending the afternoon with Kit because the knocking was followed by Dean’s voice. “Hey dad, I made dinner. Nick and I put the kitchen back to normal too.” “Thank you, Son.” John’s sleep-thick voice rumbled. Kit could hear it reverberating in his chest. “Sorry he woke you up, I meant to already be up when dinner was ready. How’d you sleep?” He asked, his eyes searching hers for signs of headache or nightmare, his hand lazily brushing hair from her face. “I slept great. If I dreamt, I don’t remember and my head’s feeling okay.” Kit said, pushing up on an elbow to free john’s arm. “Something special for dinner or dean’s usual?” John shrugged “I’m not sure what he made but I do know it’ll be good and at least eating here we don’t have to dress up.” He smirked as he slid from bed.

They joined the others in the kitchen, where dean was still messing with something. There were burgers on a tray and sliced onions, tomatoes, pickles, various condiments including “Is that sauerkraut?” she asked, receiving an ‘it’s dean’ look from both Sam and John. Dean joined them, setting toasted buns and bacon on the table. Sam got up and got everyone a beer, then they all dug in. It was great, homemade food. They got a laugh when Dean got nick to try sauerkraut, there was a reason Dean was the only one eating it. Cas ate a burger dressed very simply, tomatoes lettuce, pickles and ketchup. It was a great meal though. “Thanks for the burgers Dean.” “Was dad’s idea.” Came the answer through a half full mouth. John smiled then got onto dean for talking with his mouth full. Then they all went their own ways, Sam was doing some research, Dean was detailing the Impala and she wasn’t sure what Cas was up to, or Nick but she put it out of her mind figuring it was their business as long as they stayed out of trouble.

That’s when a sudden headache hit, causing Kit to cry out. She couldn’t speak, her head hurt too much. She didn’t want to open her eyes in case the light made it worse like a migraine, and she wasn’t sure she could navigate this place with them closed. Then her stomach lurched and she vomited which did nothing but add more pain by making her gut hurt as well.

John had just left the kitchen, a little bit behind Kit when he heard her cry out. The sound made him sprint to where she was to see what was wrong. There weren’t any physical signs but that didn’t mean anything in this business. To him it looked like she’d frozen in place, eyes closed tight. “Kit are you…” wait dumb question “What’s wrong?” she didn’t answer. Whether that meant she didn’t want to or couldn’t he didn’t know. He swallowed hard, he was worried. Several things went through his mind, some mundane others supernatural and far more terrifying. He was just about to ask her something when she vomited, barely missing either of their feet.

He scooped her up and carried her to the couch where he lay her down and covered her with one of the blankets, he grabbed a trashcan in case she threw up again. “Sam, Dean get your butts in here!” He saw kit wince and felt horrible about yelling. Sam came in from the library, “What’s wrong dad?” “I don’t know, Kit’s headaches are back and worse. She threw up, I need to go clean that up. Can you sit here while I do that? Where’s Dean?” “Dean’s in the garage, detailing and fine-tuning the impala. I’ll clean it up for you, you should stay here I’ll get Cas too.” Sam said, quietly. “Thanks son.” Sam just nodded.

John brushed the hair from Kit’s forehead, feeling how feverish she’d become. It wasn’t food poisoning because everyone else felt fine. Cas came into the room, “Can you heal her?” John asked. Cas stepped toward the couch and touched her forehead “I can ease her fever and settle her stomach, I do not know what is causing her head to hurt. Would you allow my brother…”? “Yes.” John said without bothering to ask which one and a moment later Nick was in the room, next to the couch. He touched two fingers to Kit’s forehead. “She’s trying to keep something blocked. Memories maybe, or perhaps some kind of power.” Nick said, inhaling. “Castiel, could you not sense this?” “No, brother.” “What sort of power, something like what that demon gave Sam and the others?” John asked. “No. She was born with this I think, there’s… She’s built a wall in her mind. I do not know what would happen if I remove it.” He said. Cas shuddered, he’d been around when the wall in Sam’s mind had fallen, he had been the one to make it fall and cause Sam to remember things no one should. He’d then taken that onto himself. “Don’t do it Lucifer.” Cas snapped. Both John and Lucifer’s heads snapped in his direction. “I prefer Nick at the moment.” “The name nick doesn’t freak people out.” John added. “What’s wrong?” Dean asked at the same time as Sam asked if there was any improvement. “The headaches are back. So far they aren’t any better.” John said.

“Should we take her to the doctor, there’s a hospital in town.” Dean asked. “It’s worth a shot, even if they just do fluids, pain medicine or the allergy medicine and caffeine treatment. There’s got to be something that’ll help.” John said, carefully picking Kit up and heading for the garage.