Of course, as soon as you stepped out of the garage, it started raining. Heavy, pouring rain that instantly soaked you to the skin, no doubt drenching the small bag you carried on your back. For a moment, you considered turning around, locking yourself in your bedroom. But you didn't want to be in the bunker right now. You needed space, time to think, and hopefully forget about what had just happened.

Letting the rain camouflage your tears, you continued on, grumbling as you tripped in a large puddle, almost falling on your face in the process. Your ankle throbbing, you continued walking, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of your mind that told you to turn around.

Thunder shook the road, lightning crackling above you, lifting the hairs on the back of your neck. Shivering, you continued, wanting to just get to town. To find a room and hole up in it for the next day or so until you could figure out what you wanted to do.

Walking almost a mile down the road, lightning flashed, straight down beside you, cracking a tall pine tree in half. Squealing, you jumped to the side just as the tree fell to the road, just inches from you.

The sound of the tree falling had hidden the sound of a car coming up from behind you. But the bright lights cut through the rain, almost blinding you. Standing there, shivering and scared, you could only stare at the car, speeding dangerously down the road. Right towards you.

As the car drew closer, lightning flashed once again, and you could just make out the familiar shape of Dean's Impala before it skidded to a stop, barely staying on the road.

"Y/N!" Dean called out, climbing out of the car before the engine had quieted down. Striding over to you, he glanced down in shock at the shattered tree beside you. "Are you okay?"

"Define okay," you muttered, as thunder shook the ground once again.

"Damn it Y/N. Did that hit you?" He asked, reaching forward to grasp your arms and get a good look at you. But you were still confused and hurt, and you pulled away from him.

"It didn't hit me. So you can just head back to the bunker Dean." Turning, you attempted to step over the large part of the tree, but your foot hit a slick patch and you went flying. Your hands flailing, you landed hard on the slick pavement, your cheek scraped by the bark of the tree.

"Y/N!" Dean yelled, rushing around the tree. Without a word, he picked you up in his arms, ignoring your struggle. Striding around the tree, he opened the passenger door, dropping you inside.

"Dean, no!" You argued. Leaning down, his hands planted on the doorframe, lightning lit up the sky behind him.

"Y/N, I don't care how mad you are at me, it's crazy to be out in this storm!" He exclaimed. "Let me get you back, take care of you a little, and then you can hide in your room until this passes over. But if you continue on, you could end up in the hospital. Or dead. So please...,"

Crossing your arms, you stared ahead, knowing he was right. Your face and ankle throbbed, and your palms smarted from your fall. The lightning was scary, and you weren't sure how much longer it was going to continue raining.

Taking a deep breath, Dean climbed into the Impala, turning it around, back towards the bunker. Both of you quiet, it was an awkward ride. The second Dean parked the Impala, you were out of your seat, limping towards your bedroom. Dean stood there for a moment, watching you as you struggled before picking you up in his arms once again. "Twisted your ankle?"

"It'll be fine," you muttered, but still, he carried you down the hallway, gently setting you at the table in the library.

"Let me help you," he pleaded, handing you a glass of whiskey. "I know you probably hate me right now and don't worry, you're not the only one. But I hate seeing you hurt."

"I don't hate you," you whispered, surprising him.

"We'll talk later. First, let's get you cleaned up," he ordered, leaving you to head down the hallway. You understood why he had taken you here and not one of the bedrooms. It was neutral ground, a place to hopefully begin again. If you could.

Dean soon returned, his arms full. He had clothes for the both of you, along with the first aid kit that saw plenty of use. Setting them down, he turned to face you. "I'll just be over there," he muttered, heading behind one of the bookshelves to no doubt change while you did the same. Wincing, you pulled your soggy shirt over your head, struggling to get out of your boots and jeans. Finally, you had on the soft sweatpants and shirt Dean had given you, just as he cleared his throat. "Can I come out now?"

"What's it matter, you've seen it all anyway," you sniped, immediately feeling a little guilty.

"About that," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know a million apologies would never be enough. But Y/N, I took advantage of a bad situation. You had no control, and I don't know what came over me. I should have never forced you to do anything. If I could take it back, I would. I don't want you to leave, and I don't know how to make it right, but...,"

"Dean, I don't hate you, and I don't blame you. It was on me, too," you told him.

"No, it's not," he argued. "You were spelled, and you had to do whatever I told you. You were leaving this morning, so it can't be all fine!"

"I was leaving because I needed to clear my head! Of course, I was mad at you for taking advantage of the situation. And yes, you should have never pushed it that far. But I was also mad that our first time together happened while I was under a spell. Dean, I care about you, and I wanted it to be special. But now it's going to be forever tainted."

"What can I do to make things right?" He asked, standing beside you.

"Dean, you already have," you whispered. "You came after me. You apologized. It might take some time, but I think things will go back to normal. Well, hopefully, a little different."

"Yeah, how's that?"

"I was hoping we could try this whole relationship thing out when there's no spell between us," you suggested.

He moved to pull you against him, the movement testing your sore ankle and you stumbled. Cursing under his breath, Dean sat you on the table. "We can talk about all of that later. Let's get you cleaned up."

"Dean," you spoke up while he cleaned the scrapes on your palms. "If you ever pull something like that again, I will hurt you. Understood?"

"Completely," he agreed. "I'll even hand you the knife."