"It's always a witch," Dean muttered as the two of you tiptoed through the quiet hotel suite, trying to figure out where the witch was hiding.

"Dean, shush," you ordered, holding your gun up at eye level just as a flash of movement caught your eye. Nodding your head to the side, you turned just as the witch burst into the room, throwing a shimmering powder at you.

Sputtering, you wiped the sweet mess from your face as Dean raced after the witch. Before you could even move a gunshot was heard. "Dean?" You called out.

"Don't worry, I got her," Dean yelled back, coming back into the room. "But we've probably drawn attention to ourselves. Let's get out of here!"

You didn't have to be told twice, rushing towards the front door, opening it to see if anyone was coming down the hallway. "Go!" Dean called out, and you raced through the door, running straight for the stairs. Dean had a hard time keeping up with you as you pushed open the door, taking the steps as fast as you could.

Down the stairs you went, through the service exit, stopping as soon as you were outside. Breathing heavily Dean stopped next to you. "Can't we take the elevator next time?" He huffed.

"We needed to get out of there before we were seen," you insisted. "Now can we get out of here?"

"Get in the car," he told you, and almost feeling like you had no choice, you slid into the passenger seat of the Impala, waiting patiently for Dean to join you. Glancing curiously your way, Dean started the Impala. "You feel okay? That witch didn't hit you with something, did she?"

"I'm fine," you told him, even though you weren't so sure that you were. But you didn't want to worry Dean.

"Why don't you get some sleep. It will be a while before we meet up with Sammy," he suggested, and as soon as the words left his lips you could feel yourself growing tired, your head resting on the window. Missing Dean's concerned look he shot your way before driving off.

"Y/N, wake up," Dean said, shaking your shoulder, and you sat up quickly, knocking your head against his. Both of you groaning, Dean stood back, giving you a chance to see that he had driven all the way through the day to reach the Impala.

"I slept all the way here?" You asked, standing up and stretching your stiff neck.

"You did," he seemed surprised. "You fell asleep as soon as we climbed in the car, and didn't wake up until...," his voice floated away. "Until I told you."

"That's weird, I don't usually sleep that long on road trips," you muttered.

"Y/N, pick up that bag," Dean told you, and without a second thought you did, staring down at it in shock.

"Dean...," you started to say, but Dean shook his head, racing down the stairs, leaving you to stand there wondering exactly what was going on.

"What do you mean Sam's gone?" You asked as soon as you made your way down the stairs to see Dean reading a note by the map table. "Everything okay?"

"He said there was a rare collection of books being auctioned off the town over. He'll be back tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," you answered, dropping the bag down beside Dean.

"Hey Y/N, why don't you go make dinner," Dean suggested, and you had this sudden urge to make dinner, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't fight it. "Don't go all vegetable with it either. Meat!"

Muttering under your breath, you made dinner, cooking up some thick juicy steaks, wondering why you were being so nice and following Dean's suggestions. Wondering if the witch had messed with you somehow, but thinking that you would feel different if she had.

Taking the two plates to the library, you placed one in front of Dean who stared your way. "What? Did I get something on my face?"

"No, it's just..., no," he faltered, picking up a piece of the steak. "Y/N, don't you think it's hot? Why don't you take off your flannel,"

Suddenly you were hotter than you had been seconds before, and you slipped out of your flannel shirt, leaving you only in your tank top. "There, that's better," you muttered, picking at the baked potato.

You caught Dean rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit that you had picked up on. "Dean, what is it?"

"Y/N, I want to ask you a question. And I want you to tell me the truth. Understood?" He asked quietly, and you nodded, waiting for his question.

"I know that we've been working together for a while now," he started off, and you listened quietly. "But I overheard you talking to Sam. About the relationship between you and me."

"Okay," you said, wondering where he was going with this.

"And my question is this. Y/N, tell me how you feel about me?" He asked, waiting nervously for your answer.

"I love you," you blurted out, immediately covering your mouth in horror. Never had you imagined those words to slip out. Sure, he was asking about your feelings, but you would of handled it much better than acting like a love sick fool. "No, wait...I,"

"Y/N, you can't lie," he told you.

"Why? I've always been a pretty decent liar," you argued.

"No, I asked you for the truth, and you have to do whatever is asked of you. I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out yet. Everything you've done today, I've asked you to. Hell, I could tell you to strip right now, and you would."

"You wouldn't," you muttered.

Leaning forward, Dean clasped his hands together. "Stand up," he ordered, and you tried to fight it, but soon you were on your feet, staring hard at Dean. "Take your boots off."

Leaning forward, you took your boots off. "Dean, why are you...,"

"I'm proving my point. Now your jeans, and your tank top."

"Dean," you pleaded, shaking as you shimmied out of your jeans, leaving them on the floor before pulling your tank top over your head. Soon you were standing there in your bra and underwear, your arms crossed. "I'm done," you muttered, moving to leave the room.

"Stay where you are," Dean insisted, and you froze to the spot, left to quiver as Dean came around the table, running his finger along your bra strap, his green eyes intent as they stared your way. "Y/N, you are under a spell. Anything and everything I ask you to do, you have no choice."

A tear slipped down your cheek as you waited to see what he would do. If he would take it a step further. Knowing if he did, you would hate him forever. "Y/N, raise your arms," he ordered, "and wrap them around my neck."

It was hard since you couldn't move your feet, but soon your chest was snuggled against his, your arms wrapped around his neck. It was something you had wanted for a while, but not like this. Never like this.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he ordered, his lips dangerously close to yours.

"That I've wanted this for a while," you whispered. "To be held in your arms. To feel those lips against mine. But I'm scared."

"Why are you scared?" He pushed his lips soft against yours before he pulled back.

"Because this isn't completely me. You're using this spell against me, and I'm afraid that I'm going to hate you."

With a groan, Dean stepped back, his hands fisted at his side. "Damn it!"

You could only stand there, shivering and torn. Hating Dean for forcing the issue, wishing that you could have told Dean how you felt before being spelled. "What do you want?"

"I want you," you answered, and with a groan Dean picked you up in his arms, carrying you to his bedroom.

The next morning you found yourself waking up in Dean's room, your naked form under Dean's soft blanket. He snored softly next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist. You remembered what happened, all of it, and you wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and cry.

This isn't how you expected your first time with Dean to be. You wanted to go to him on your own terms, not because some spell had forced the issue. Tears slipped down your cheek, and you were about ready to slip out of bed when he stirred. "Come here," he ordered. Your entire body stiff, you waited for your body to comply, for the spell to order you around. But nothing happened, and you felt like you could finally breathe.

Slipping out of bed, you picked up Dean's t-shirt, slipping it on, almost hyperventilating as you tried to leave. "Y/N, where are you going?"

"I'm leaving Dean," you told him, needing to get away to clear your head. To figure out exactly what had happened and where to go from here.

"Get back into bed," he ordered, his eyes widening when you didn't move. "The spell...,"

"Yeah, the spells gone. You no longer have a hold on me," you muttered as he stood up.

"Y/N, let's talk about this," he started to say, but you shook your head.

"Dean, why did you act that way? You knew I was spelled, that I couldn't control what I did, and you took advantage of that!"

"You weren't as helpless as you want to believe," he argued. "I asked you what you wanted, and you said me."

"I did want you. But not like that, never like that," you cried. "Dean, you could've told me, or helped me! Anything other than what you actually did!"

"All I did was finally act on feelings I know both of us have for each other. Sure, it probably wasn't the most ethical way to go about it, but Y/N, look at our lives! We don't live what you would call normal lives."

"But you didn't have to force the issue," you whispered. "You could have tried to find the cure, knowing that I was stuck to do your bidding."

"So what does this mean?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Dean, I need space. Time to think. Away from you," you told him before rushing from the room. Tears filled your vision, your heart breaking as you realized you would probably never trust Dean again. Because he had taken your deepest desire and used it against you.