Reader's POV
Dean shook his head like a dog, the water flying from his hair and showering you in warm little droplets.
"Dean!" you squealed. "I'm all wet now."
Dean narrowed his eyes and smirked, and you blushed slightly when you realized the implications of your choice of words. He leaned over and kissed the corner of your mouth. "Are you?" he murmured, trailing his hand down your side.
Well, you were well on your way now. You looked at him, towel around his waist and bare chest wet and glistening from the shower, and felt your blood rush a little faster.
It had been almost a month since the first time you slept together. You hadn't really discussed or defined your relationship, but you didn't have to. You were together. The second Dean came home from stopping some monster (Dean and Sam called it hunting), he had pulled you into his bedroom and spent the night tangled up with you. You had slept in his room every night since then.
It was intense, and it was probably too fast, but you didn't care.
Everything about this situation was impulsive and strange, but it felt right. You liked the way Dean would flop down on the couch and put his head in your lap, leaning into your hand when you ran your fingers through his hair. You liked the way he talked to you, like you were competent and capable, and could handle the truth about the things you were up against. You liked the comfort of having him next to you, warm and strong.
You liked Dean. But you didn't like his current plan.
"Dean, you can't just go looking for her. There's no telling what she would do to you." You were sitting at the table in the main room of the bunker, exhausted and elbow deep in dusty books. Sam was nodding his agreement, Cas standing behind you silently. You weren't sure what was going on between Cas and the Winchesters, and it wasn't your business, but you got the feeling that things weren't always this icy with them. Maybe someday you'd learn the whole story.
In the meantime, you needed to talk Dean out of running after Amara. He kept coming back to this plan- just find her and kill her- and it was a horrible idea. There were so many unanswered questions, and too many dangerous "what ifs".
Dean took a long swig from his beer bottle and sighed heavily, clearly irritated at being ganged up on.
Sam spoke up. "Look, we're getting somewhere. You just have to be patient. I think seeing the cage was supposed to help us, to give us a hint. We just need to figure it out."
"And that's great, Sammy, but what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Sit on my hands and binge watch Netflix?"
Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. "You're supposed to help us dig through all this shit. Help us figure it out. I know it's been a month, and translating this shit goes so slow, but it's not pointless. You'd feel better if you helped."
"I'd just get in the way," he said quietly. "I'm gonna go to bed."
You watched him leave the room, unsure of what to say. Sam just opened a book and started reading, like Dean's attitude was most natural thing in the world.
"He'll snap out of it," he said, his tone reassuring and calm.
The next few hours were spent with Sam and Cas, digging through the ancient books in dead languages and grasping for anything at all related to The Darkness, same as you'd been doing for weeks now. The cage was a recent development, however, and it gave you hope.
Sam thought out loud as you worked. "The first thing we need to figure out is what the cage has to do with this. Is it trying to tell us that we need to let Lucifer and Michael out? That they are the answer? Or are we supposed to try and put her in the cage, too? Would that hold her? Or is it a warning that she's trying to release Lucifer?"
You groaned at all of his questions, none answerable, and rested your forehead on the table. "I can't think anymore," you whined. "I need to sleep."
You pushed back your chair and stood up, inwardly rolling your eyes at the fact the neither Cas nor Sam even looked up at you. You playfully tugged at the long hair at Sam's neck. "You should sleep, too."
He finally looked up at you and smiled softly. "I will." You both knew he was lying. You squeezed his shoulder, enjoying the bond the two of you seemed to have formed since you'd been working together.
********
Sneaking quietly into Dean's room was unnecessary. He was laying awake, hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling.
"Anything?" he asked, his voice flat and emotionless.
"Just exhaustion."
He softened at that, and turned his head to look at you with those bottomless green eyes that you swore were seeing straight into your soul. He pulled his arms from behind his head and held them out, an open invitation that you were happy to accept.
But first, you wanted to get comfortable.
Slowly, you pulled your shirt over your head, letting your hair tumble messily back down over your shoulders as you let the material crumple in the floor at your feet. You stared at Dean, at the flat planes of his bare chest, at the dip of his hip bones as the line of them disappeared under his boxers. You slid out of your blue jeans, grinning as the material of those boxers strained over Dean's arousal at the sight of you undressing.
Once you were completely naked, you walked to the bed and stood there for a moment, basking in this newfound trust. You had never been with anyone that made you feel so safe, so wanted, that you could just stand here like this, not even a little shy or insecure. Dean's lips parted and you could see the tip of his tongue pressed against his teeth, his breath a little faster now. You wanted him to look at you like that for the rest of your life.
You leaned over, impatiently tugging at his underwear, and he smirked as his hips lifted up to help you undress him. Then you swung a leg over him and settled yourself on his lap.
"Gorgeous," Dean said, his voice barely audible. His hands slid up your thighs to your hip, then up your sides and eventually into your hair, pulling you down into a deep, unhurried kiss. You could taste the beer he'd been drinking, and that flavor that was just Dean, sweet and perfect on your tongue.
You rocked your hips against him and moaned, his cock hard and creating perfect friction against your clit. You closed your eyes as Dean took over, slowly thrusting just enough to rub against you and drive you crazy. Soon, he was slick with your wetness and groaning himself.
You leaned down and pressed your mouth to his tattoo, sucking hard enough to leave a mark that wouldn't be seen. Dean jerked into your touch, and let out a sharp sound of pleasure that went straight down your spine to settle between your legs.
"What is this?" You trailed your fingers over the symbol inked into his creamy skin, noticing with satisfaction that your touch raised goosebumps.
"It's an anti-possession mark."
God, there was so much about him you wanted to know.
But Dean soon distracted you by rolling to lie on top of you, sliding down your body until he was between your legs, tongue flicking out to taste you as your fingers twisted in his hair.
"Yes..." you breathed, urging him on, wanting this sweet pleasure to continue until you exploded with it.
And that's exactly what happened. Dean's mouth and fingers worked you over until you were a sweaty, writhing mess, crying his name helplessly and arching off the bed.
Dean kissed you as you recovered from your orgasm, the taste of you all over him and reigniting the fire that had just barely been put out.
"Dean..." you begged, squirming against him as he kissed down your neck. Your hand wandered over his stomach, lower and lower until your fingers wrapped around him, hard and heavy in your hand, practically throbbing with need.
"What? What do you need?"
You knew Dean just wanted to hear you say it, and something about that made this that much hotter.
"I need to feel you, need you inside me," you begged again.
Dean pulled your hands above your head, against the pillow, and laced his fingers through yours, all of his weight deliciously holding you down as he entered you. His rhythm was fast but smooth, steadily burning through both of you. Your hands stayed linked together, your fingers gripping his as tightly as you could, while you both lost yourselves in each other.
Afterward, when you were laying on your back, relaxed and sated, with Dean wrapped around you like ivy, you talked. You felt it was time to hear about his past, to get the full story that led him here.
"How long have you been a hunter?" you asked.
Dean didn't open his eyes or move a muscle. "My whole life," he grunted.
"Really?"
Dean sighed when he realized you weren't going to let him sleep, and leaned up to look at you.
"Feels that way. Our mom was killed when I was four. Sam was just six months old."
"I'm sorry," you said, hoping that your tone conveyed how much you meant that.
Dean lowered his eyes. "It was a demon. And afterward, my Dad wanted revenge, and we were hunters."
"Just like that?"
"Pretty much. Dad would go hunt, I took care of Sammy. When we were old enough, we hunted too."
Dean was shifting around uncomfortably, so you decided to let him off the hook for tonight.
"I lost my parents, too," you told him. "My grandmother had visions, and it's always been a part of my life, but this is the first time they have ever been about anything this important. Now that my grandmother's gone, I had nothing holding me there. It wasn't that hard to pack up and let go. It's actually nice to be here, everything completely new. Like a second chance at my life."
Dean didn't say anything, but you knew he was taking in everything you'd shared. He curled around you again, rested his head on your chest, and took a deep breath.
"I'm glad you're here."
"Me too."
********
A loud knock on the bedroom door woke you up. You weren't sure how long you'd been asleep, but it definitely wasn't long enough. Dean was still insisting on sleeping on top of you, his voice muffled by your hair when he shouted "Go away!"
"Guys, we got something." Sam's voice was urgent.
Instantly, Dean was awake and moving. "Okay, we're coming."
You threw on your clothes and headed back out to the main room.
"The cage isn't the answer. Michael is."
"Michael?" Dean sounded confused and angry.
You just listened. You still weren't entirely sure what the cage really was. They had told you that Lucifer and Michael were trapped together, and that was it. You didn't know the when, why, or how, and neither the Winchesters nor Cas seemed interested in filling you in.
"Well, Michael and you. It's all here." Sam pointed at a book, small and ancient, looking like it would turn to dust at any moment. "Basically, whoever unleashes The Darkness is the one with the power to banish it again. I thought at first it could have been any of us, because we were all involved in the spell, but you had the Mark of Cain. You're the one linked to her, the one that can stop her." Sam's voice was heavy with guilt that you didn't understand.
"So what does Michael have to do with anything?"
"We could never stop her on our own, not now that she's getting stronger. Michael can trap her, weaken her, so that you can take her out."
"Well, there has to be another way. We aren't opening that damn cage and letting the fucking devil loose."
Cas had been reading, quiet enough that you had almost forgotten he was there, and his deep voice made you jump.
"There is. But you won't like it." Everyone turned to look at him. "You can break the bond between yourself and Amara. Breaking the bond would weaken her. She'd be vulnerable, and you could kill her. Not just banish her. Actually kill her. Get rid of The Darkness for good."
"So why won't I like that plan? What's the catch?"
"Breaking the bond isn't easy. It requires a blood sacrifice. In order to break the link, someone has to pay with their life."
You felt dizzy, and there was a sudden ringing in your ears. This wasn't real.
You looked around and realized no one else was panicking. They looked serious, but unsurprised.
"Well, that's ridiculous...right?" you asked. No one answered you, and a knot formed in your stomach.
"We don't know enough to make decisions yet," Cas said. "We'll keep looking."
Dean nodded, then wiped a hand over his face as if that would make the conversation you'd just had disappear.
He was smiling when he turned to you, and you almost believed it.
"Since we're up, we might as well make breakfast for everyone."
You followed him into the kitchen, your head spinning with questions. You were filled with fear, but it wasn't fear about someone possibly sacrificing themselves, or fear for your own life.
You were afraid for Dean.
You were afraid that Dean would get hurt (or worse) in a battle with Amara. You were afraid he'd get himself killed doing something stupid and heroic trying to save everyone. You were afraid of what would happen if he lost Sam or Cas- he'd never forgive himself, and he'd never recover.
And staring at him, all that fear rising up, was when it hit you.
You were in love.
