Between Love and Darkness- Book 2

1. Fight or Flight

Stella's POV:

It had been nine months since the Angra threatened our peace—nine months since I sent it fleeing, bringing us blissful relief. Well, mostly. Dean and Sam had made it their mission to train me properly with Bobby's help. We left the Bunker the morning after I vanquished the Angra. The battle still felt too raw, too fresh for any of us to feel comfortable there. Dean suggested we visit Bobby—the man who was practically a father to them—and finally introduce me to the one they held in such high regard.

That afternoon, we drove out to Singer Salvage, Bobby's home. The moment the brothers saw him, they nearly smothered the poor man in a hug.

Bobby's face softened, eyes gleaming with joy, fear, and amazement as Dean recounted the story of the Angra and our budding relationship. After shaking my hand, he pulled me into a warm hug, whispering in my ear, "Welcome to the family, kiddo."

Nine months had passed since that day, and I'd been staying in his guest room upstairs, training daily, honing my skills. I felt confident now—my abilities well-formed and finely tuned.

As the sun peeked through the small window above my bed, I fluttered my eyes open. Its light cut through the thin layer of dust suspended in the air. I stretched and rolled over, my gaze settling on Dean, still peacefully asleep. His arm was flung over his head while the other lay by my side, his hand resting lightly against my arm. Since the attack, he rarely left my side, and each night he kept at least one arm on me, as if assuring himself that I was safe and still with him.

A soft smile tugged at my lips as I reached up to gently stroke his cheek. This man had captured my heart in every way imaginable, and I couldn't even fathom where I'd be without him.

Dean's eyes slowly blinked open, the sunlight turning his brown eyes a beautiful shade of caramel as he focused on me.

"Good morning, beautiful," he mumbled with a sleepy grin.

I giggled softly. Dean wasn't much of a morning person, but he was never grouchy or short with me.

Leaning in, I kissed him gently, my hand lingering on his cheek. "Good morning, handsome," I whispered, breaking the kiss.

Dean groaned, pulling me closer, his lips curling into a half-smirk. "I wasn't done with that kiss. Come back here," he teased.

I laughed and shook my head. "Nope! Today's the big day, remember?"

Propping himself up on one elbow, Dean ran a hand through his messy hair. "Your first official hunt with us. Yeah, I remember," he muttered, though his eyes flickered with a trace of worry.

"Hey, Dean, I'll be fine. I'm with you and Sam. If anything happens, we've got each other."

He nodded, sitting up fully, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. I could see the concern etched into his features. It left me with a strange mix of frustration and warmth—frustration because he knew I was ready, but also a deep sense of gratitude, knowing that his worry stemmed from how fiercely he wanted to protect me.

I pulled Dean into a tight embrace, burying my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. His fingers trailed gently up my back, his other hand tangling in my hair. I deepened the kiss, teasingly nibbling on his bottom lip before pulling away and playfully swatting his hands aside.

Dean groaned as I stood and threw open the curtains, sunlight spilling into the room. I padded over to the dresser and grabbed my clothes. He watched me, his gaze warm with playfulness and desire, as I slid on my jeans and a light blue tank top. I smirked back, catching the gleam in his eyes.