Impala's POV. Prequel
Some have called me the most important object in the universe. Some have called me a "real beauty". Some have called me a heap of scrap metal.
But he calls me Baby, and that's the only name I answer to.
I shouldn't be able to tell my side of this story, considering I'm not technically a sentient being. Except I sort of am.
My awareness didn't happen the day I was manufactured. In fact, I have no recollection of the assembly line, of my parts being molded and welded together to create something greater than their sum. I don't remember being taken to the lot to sit in the sun, shining and gleaming as people chose more sensible cars that could accommodate a family. If I had known that was happening, I wouldn't have cared anyway. I wasn't meant for just any family.
It didn't even happen when John Winchester came to the lot that first time, ignoring me completely.
It happened the day I was purchased, and the first thing I remember is his voice.
Dean's voice.
Dean's voice saying I was going to be badass even when I was forty.
I didn't quite understand the meaning of the words, having never heard anyone speak before, but I could feel them. They felt warm and smooth, covering me like the oil in my engine, seeping into me and making everything move together just like it was supposed to. I could feel Dean's hands on me, rough skin but gentle touches, showing John my insides as if he knew them as well as he knew his own body.
I could feel my metal frame buzzing, practically singing for Dean (stay with me, I belong to you), but it was John who took me home that day.
That was okay. I loved John, too.
Over the next few years, I learned about humans. I began to understand their language, to attach certain sounds to certain meanings and learn how they communicated. I listened. I learned about John and Mary Winchester. I learned that John preferred the gas station on the other side of town because it had better quality gas and oil, and had an attached car wash. I learned that Mary hummed softly to every song on the radio, even if she didn't know the melody. I learned that John and Mary loved each other.
There were some things I still didn't understand.
I didn't understand why John and Mary climbed into the backseat one night, giggling, taking off their clothes and pressing their bodies together, Mary laughing about how John "couldn't wait the drive home".
Nine months later, I didn't understand why John was panicking as he drove Mary to a large building I had never been parked at before, or why she was holding the large middle of her body and breathing heavily.
But I understood when Mary got back in the car a few days later. A small plastic object was strapped into my backseat, and a tiny human making strange squeaking sounds was placed in the object.
Dean. A small, cranky Dean.
It took me a while, but I eventually figured out the basics of the human life cycle, and that Mary and John had somehow given me Dean. I never thought it strange that we had already met. Dean was just a part of me.
I watched as he grew. I took Dean to get his booster shots, I took John on late night diaper runs, and I pushed my engine to the limit the night Dean was crying weakly, Mary crying in the passenger seat about his fever while John drove to the hospital.
I could understand almost everything they said now, and life made sense to me.
It made even more sense to me when Sam was born. It felt finished. Complete. I watched Sam and Dean grow in the backseat, their tiny hands always reaching for each other.
And then Mary died, and I could feel the hole she left behind.
I could feel Dean change, grow older instantaneously. I watched as he became the one to strap Sam into his car seat, keeping Sam safe like it was his purpose.
My life became harder. Darker.
Now I was driving over dirt roads in the middle of the night, racing to the next town only to be parked at a motel where people would walk by and peer in the window, sometimes trying the door to see if they could get in. Now I carried a trunk full of deadly weapons, salt, and old books. Now John fell into the driver's seat, body limp with exhaustion, smelling of dirt and blood and worse.
Sam and Dean still continued to grow, playing in the backseat and learning so much. I wanted everything they learned to be happy. The sound of their laughter was even better than the music John played a little too loudly. Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way, and they learned an awful lot of bad as I took them around the country.
When they were grown, Sam drifted away. I remembered him, of course. His initials were carved into me, and he still belonged, even if he was gone. I missed Sam, but I still had my Dean.
Eventually, John gave me to Dean. Dean slept in me that night, running his hands over my leather seats and murmuring nonsense to me about how beautiful I was and how he was going to take good care of me.
We were together, and I was finally going to do what I was built for.
Over a decade later, Dean and I were still together. Sam came back. We literally saved the world. I saw Dean fight, have sex, laugh, cry, argue with Sam, make up with Sam, break down, and push through. He treated me well- loved me, touched me, talked to me- because he knew as well as I did that we were more than just a car and its owner.
I drove him through every type of terrain, every type of weather, and I did my best not to need a lot to keep going. I managed to keep myself working, even when Dean put me away for a few months so that he would be safer. I knew he'd come back.
I kept them safe, wrapping myself around them and taking what blows I could, feeling lost when I would sit unused for a day or two, worrying if they'd come back.
Then The Darkness swept over me, and I couldn't hold Dean safely inside. Luckily, he was okay, but we were now on our next mission to save the world.
Dean and I were closer than ever, Sam was still "sitting shotgun" as Dean called it, and we were going to do whatever was necessary. Together.
And then, Dean met her.

Reader's. POV
Today was the day you were going to meet Dean Winchester.
You had known it was coming since you'd had the vision, but the vision hadn't been specific about when. For a while, you had gone to work each day wondering if this was the day when he would walk into your shop and change the course of your life. Would today be the day that you embarked on your next adventure?
The Darkness was coming. You had known for a year or so. And you knew now, after your vision about him, that this was somehow connected to Dean Winchester, but the details were fuzzy. The only thing that was clear to you at this point was that Dean was going to need your help, and you needed to give it to him.
Research had proven almost useless. There were no recent records about Dean Winchester. You found his criminal record, then his death record, and that was it. You found he had a brother, but those records were just as vague.
Who were these men?
That was the question that haunted every thought, every minute of every day. Would you meet him today? Would you finally be able to hear his story?
Soon, it became apparent that all that did was make you crazy. You'd just have to try to forget about it and be patient.
But when you woke up on this day, you knew. He was close. You were going to meet him today.
But not Sam. Not yet.
You walked around the small shop all day, straightening the already tidy displays, helping the three customers that wandered in before lunch, and jumping at each noise, hoping it would be him.
When you ran out of things to do, you grabbed your clipboard and got a head start on inventory. You had several regular customers- most Wiccans, a few actual witches- who kept your herbs and basic spell ingredients in constant demand, and you couldn't afford to run out of anything.
As you were waiting for Dean, something occurred to you that you hadn't thought of before. What if he wasn't ready for you? Your vision showed Dean searching for a book, an ancient text that you owned. What if he just wanted the book, and nothing else? It was hard to believe, after all. What were you supposed to say- "Hi, I'm Y/N, I'm a psychic who had a vision about you and I'm supposed to join you on your mission to fight The Darkness and save the world"?
Yeah, that would sound totally normal.
Of course, Dean's life was probably anything but normal.
Before you had time to really panic about this new thought, he walked in. Tall, bigger than your visions had led you to believe, and a little sadder, he glanced in your direction nonchalantly before heading to the bookshelves. You let him peruse for a moment as you decided how to approach him. He was obviously biding his own time, because anyone searching for this particular book would know it was too rare to be set out on a shelf.
Biting the bullet was always the best option in situations like this, wasn't it?
You walked over to him, the two of you the only people in the shop, and went for it.
"Hello, Dean. I'm Y/N."
He kept his face smooth, not showing any reaction at all to the fact that you knew his name, but you could feel the tension coming off of him in waves.
You had always been good at reading people, considering your abilities, but Dean seemed easier than the rest. You didn't even have to try. It was like you were already completely attuned to him.
Well, that would make things easier.
"You don't need to be tense," you told him. "I'm on your side."
He still didn't speak, just continued to stare at you, now letting his skepticism show on his face as his hand twitched, no doubt reaching for his gun.
"I have the book you need," you said, and turned, deliberately turning your back on him and leaving yourself defenseless, so he would know you really meant him no harm. You felt him relax slightly as he regained control of the situation and followed you to the counter.
"Mind telling me how the hell you know who I am?" The bark in his voice didn't startle you. You would have been surprised if he had responded any other way.
"I'm a psychic." You went for blunt honesty. "I had a vision about you coming here, searching for this book."
Dean nodded silently.
You sighed, knowing that you weren't going to get him to open up any time soon.
"I know about The Darkness, too." That caused his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. You pulled the book from underneath your counter, where you'd had it waiting since your vision, and handed it to him. "I'll tell you everything, if you want. There's a restaurant next door. Feel like having lunch?"
Dean shook his head, as if he shouldn't be surprised by this strange meeting.
"Sure, why not?" He looked into your eyes, seeking to understand what was going on, and you felt it. This surge of...something. Connection, maybe? Regardless of what it was, it was powerful. Almost magnetic.
You shrugged it off.
The two of you walked next door and grabbed a table in the midday sunshine. You ordered your food, and then Dean cocked his head and pursed his lips at you, silently telling you to talk, to tell him why the hell he was having lunch with you.
"I was a teenager when I had my first vision," you started. "My grandmother was psychic too, and she had been waiting for it. Mostly, it was insignificant stuff. Knowing what I was getting for my birthday, seeing when my boyfriend was cheating on me. But then I started seeing people in trouble. It's only happened a handful of times, but I was able to save a few people from some pretty terrible monsters."
"But you aren't a hunter?"
"No, I don't go looking for things. Or at least, I never have before. But then I got the vision of The Darkness."
Dean clearly wasn't prepared for you to say that.
"What do you know about The Darkness?" Dean's voice was harsh now.
"Not much. I know it's some ancient evil. Older than God. And pretty fucking terrifying."
Despite the seriousness of your conversation, Dean smirked at your description.
"So here's the part you aren't going to like."
"I'm supposed to have liked everything else? I come to some random New Age shop because a locator spell told me you have a book I need, and I find out that you know my name and have been having visions about me, but that's not the bad part?"
"'Fraid not. See, I didn't just have a vision of you coming to get the book. I had a vision of you and me, working together. I don't know why or how, but I can help you. I..." you took a deep breath, "I think I'm supposed to go with you. Travel with you. And help you stop this thing."
To his credit, Dean didn't say any of the things you could practically see swirling around in his brain. He took his time and let your words sink in before asking a simple question.
"How are you going to help if you don't know anything about The Darkness?"
"So, you believe me?"
Dean chuckled. "No reason not to yet. You clearly know who I am and what I'm trying to do. You could be one of the bad guys, but I just don't get that feeling from you. As far as first meetings go, I've had stranger."
You grinned. "I honestly don't know how I'm supposed to help. But I know I'm supposed to stay with you. And Sam."
"What do you know about Sam?" There was an edge to his voice again.
"Just that he's your brother. I tried to dig up dirt on the two of you, but you stay off the grid."
Your food came, and the two of you ate in silence for a while. Dean was lost in thought, and you didn't want to push him.
"Would you mind if I stepped away for a minute and made a phone call?" Dean asked when he finished his burger and fries.
"Sure. I'll just be in the shop."
Dean laid enough cash on the table to pay for both his food and yours, and you watched as the sun reflected in his green eyes as he smiled politely at you before walking down the street aimlessly, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.
Oh, no. You were not going to find him attractive.
Well, obviously, he was attractive. Very attractive. That was an objective fact. But you were not going to become attracted to him. That was not what this was about.
You shook your head, getting the image of his green eyes out of your head as you walked back to your shop.
Dean came back in about twenty minutes later.
"Okay, so you know this whole thing has been a little crazy for me, right?"
You nodded.
"Well, I'm about to make it even crazier. You wanna come with me?"
"Come with you where?"
"Home. To where Sam and I live. You're supposed to help us, right?"
Dean was right. This was absolutely crazy.
But if there was one thing you had learned throughout your life, it was that your trusted yourself and your visions. This was fate.
"Yes, I'm supposed to help you." You looked him straight in the eyes and mustered as much certainty as you could. "Okay. Let's go."
And just like that, you felt something shift and settle into place.
This was where you were supposed to be. You knew it. This felt right in a way that few other things ever had, and while you were still scared, you were mostly prepared and determined to face whatever was coming.
There was another, not-so-small part of you that was excited. This was going to be an adventure. No more sitting in this store every day, missing the family you used to have and feeling trapped in this small town. No more conforming to this monotonous, normal life that you had never felt successful at.
This was your beginning.
You spent the next hour taking care of shutting the shop down properly, knowing this might very well be the last time you ever saw it. It was bittersweet and exhilarating. When you locked the door of your shop, you stood for a moment and gave it one last affectionate glance. You'd been prepared to leave it since you had the vision, but that didn't stop the wave of emotion from washing over you.
Dean stood behind you quietly, letting you have your moment.
When you were ready, you turned around.
"I usually walk to work. My car is at my apartment. I need to go get some things if I'm going with you."
Dean nodded. "I'll drive you there."
A short, two-block walk down the street brought you to Dean's car.
Holy shit.
You didn't know anything about cars, but you knew enough to know that this one was a big deal.
It (she, your brain told you, not it) was clearly a classic. Shiny and sleek, well-taken care of, and obviously loved- you had no doubt that this car was Dean's pride and joy.
"Nice car," you smiled.
"Thanks." Dean smiled his first genuine smile since you met him, and it wasn't for you. He looked at the car like an old friend or lover, someone who he was intimately familiar with and couldn't live without. It was completely endearing.
Dean got in, still smiling at his car, and you reached for the handle on the passenger's side. The second your hand touched metal, your blood ran cold. You were suddenly filled with a sense of dread and insecurity that you couldn't name the focus of. You weren't unsure of your decision to go with Dean, but something was off. You stared at your reflection in the window for a moment, hesitating until you heard Dean's voice from the inside.
"We doin' this or what?"
As quickly as it came, the feeling was gone. You'd analyze it later, when you had time. Right now, you had things to do.
You told Dean which direction to head and listened as the car purred, Dean's hands running over the steering wheel like a caress. You watched him drive for a moment, noticing that he and the car seemed to move as one person, as if driving wasn't just about getting from one place to another, but was an experience all on its own for Dean.
That was...really sexy.
But you weren't attracted to Dean. Or the way he drove his fancy car.
To distract yourself, you began making a mental list of all the things you had to pack, and what you'd be leaving behind.
You were ready.

IMPALA'S POV
When Y/N touched me, I didn't like her.
Through the years, I had met countless people. Some of them were friends, like Cas. Some of them used to be friends, like Kevin and Charlie, until they were gone. They were comfortable and familiar to me. I didn't love them like I loved the Winchesters, but I could tell that they were good. They cared about Sam and Dean, and that was good enough for me.
Some of the people I met were strangers. They were people that the Winchesters had saved from some evil monster, or people that were helping the Winchesters fight some evil monster, and they would fall into the leather of my seats, exhausted and afraid. I didn't mind them either. We were on the same side.
Some of the people I met came in went in the blink of an eye- girls that would roll around in my backseat with one of the brothers, their bodies offering the comfort, or release, or good time, that nothing else could. Not even me. I did my job and gave Dean a safe place, a warm home, so that he could enjoy himself that way. And nothing was better than the drive home the next morning, just the two of us, Dean smiling to himself and loudly singing along to a cassette tape. Happy.
It was rare that I didn't like someone. It had only happened a few times before, when I had sensed that Dean was in danger, that something was trying to take him away from me.
And I felt it when Y/N touched my handle.
It wasn't very strong. Just a shudder that made my metal frame a little colder as she opened my door.
But Dean didn't seem worried. He was being careful, sure, but he wasn't afraid.
The bad feeling I had grew stronger when we stopped a few minutes later, and she loaded my backseat with bags. That had happened before, and it always meant that whoever it was would be with us for a while.
As Dean drove, I tried to pinpoint what it was I didn't like about her. I quickly realized that I wasn't exactly afraid for Dean. There was no danger here that I could see. I simply didn't like the way she smiled at him.
She smiled at him like she knew him, like she understood who he was.
But she hadn't watched him teach Sam the alphabet song. She hadn't carried Dean to Stanford to pick up Sam, Dean nervous and hopeful the whole drive. She hadn't listened as Dean and Sam sang along to the radio, pretending we weren't about to lose Dean forever. She didn't know what fast food restaurants he ate at, what his favorite songs were, or the way his grip on the steering wheel changed with his mood. She didn't know him at all.
I was jealous.
I decided to hate her.
"How long have you had it?" Her voice broke into my thoughts, and I realized she was asking Dean about me.
But I was a "she". Not an "it".
"Forever. She was my Dad's, and then he gave her to me." My engine purred a little louder, not audible to human ears, but I knew Dean could feel it. His thumb brushed across my steering wheel lovingly, and I felt his body relax a little more into the cushion of my seat.
Y/N asked a few more questions, and their conversation drifted to other topics. She made Dean laugh, and I didn't hate her as much. Dean deserved to laugh.
We drove for hours, and I could tell from the way Dean's mood lightened as we moved along that we were headed for the bunker. Headed for home. The wind whipped around me as Dean pressed his foot closer to the floor, hands strong and sure as he guided my tires with the smallest, easiest of movements. We had done this dance for so long that I barely needed him to do anything in order to understand what he wanted from me.
We stopped for gas a few times, and each time, Dean would clean my windshield off, washing away the dead bugs and dust- making sure not only that he could see clearly, but also that I was clean and taken care of. Y/N sat in the car and checked her cell phone, completely unaware of me.
When Dean started telling her about the bunker, I realized she was moving in. Apparently she could help beat The Darkness. I wasn't sure how or why, but I was clearly going to have to accept that she was part of our family for the time being.
I wondered what she would be like once I learned who she really was. I wondered if she really would be able to help fight The Darkness. I wondered if Sam and Dean would trust her enough to tell her everything, or if they would be cautious and keep her in the dark, using her skills (whatever they were) without giving her any power.
Regardless of how the next chapter of Dean's life played out, I would be here.
"You'll meet Sam when we get there," Dean told her. I knew we were close to home then, and I was grateful.
"Sam. He's powerful." Again, she was talking about them like she knew them
Yes, Sam was powerful, but she hadn't seen him the night he drank the demon blood and took on Lucifer. She hadn't heard his fear and panic as he tried to figure out how to handle his powers.
Dean shifted uncomfortably, not ready to open up to her just yet. "What makes you say that?"
"A feeling. The feeling I got when I saw him in my vision. Someday, I hope you will both trust me enough to tell me the details."
Dean said nothing in response, just nervously adjusted my rearview mirror and turned the radio volume up.
We got to the bunker after dark. Normally, after a long trip, Dean quickly checked me over, making sure everything was working and that I didn't need more oil, or water in my radiator. But not tonight. And that was okay. He had more important things to think about, and I knew it wouldn't be long before he gave me the attention I was used to.
I would wait for Dean.
I sat in the garage then, happily cooling down in the peaceful dark. I loved the sounds of the bunker- the hum of the air rushing through the vents, the creaking of settling concrete, the occasional buzz of an insect. This was where I belonged now, and this spot felt more like home to me than anything ever had.
I was surprised when my door opened and Dean slid into the backseat. He sat silent for a moment, and I could feel the gears in his head turning as fast as mine did on the highway. After a while, he laid down, arms behind his head, staring at my roof.
I had gathered throughout my time as an aware being that humans liked to look at the stars. It apparently helped them enjoy simple moments, clear their heads, escape their problems. And humans simply liked staring at the sky.
But Dean liked staring at me. When he needed to think or relax or be alone, he would spend time with me, looking, taking comfort in my presence the way humans took comfort in the stars. Sometimes he would stare as he washed me, making every inch of my black paint shine. Sometimes he would sit inside of me and just look, memorizing every detail.
I understood why it was comforting. He had spent more time with me than he had with anyone except Sam. We took care of each other.
We were a part of each other.
That night, Dean ran his hands over my leather seats gently and whispered to me.
"How ya doin', Baby?" he asked. "Long drive today."
Long pause.
"I think she's telling me the truth."
I hope so.
"I think she can help."
I hope for that, too.
"Sam likes her."
Good for Sam. Dean sounded like he was trying to use that as a reason why he was going to trust her. It wasn't good enough for me.
Another long pause. His breathing evened out, and I let the sound fill me up as he drifted to sleep.
He stayed there the rest of the night, turning every now and then, burrowing in closer as the night wore on. I heard the familiar sound of his soft snoring, which was always louder if he fell asleep sitting up. Eventually, he awoke with a start, then stumbled out of me and back inside.
Dean came back the next morning to do the once over he forgot about the night before, and then I sat alone for a long time. I couldn't keep track of exactly how many days because I was in the garage, no sunrise and sunset available to me, but I could feel that it was longer than usual.
That was either very good, or very bad.
Either way, I would be here.

READER'S POV.  SMUT IN THIS ONE
The bunker was the safest place you could be right now. You knew that. But it didn't stop you from getting nervous tingles down your spine as you tiptoed around the kitchen in the middle of the night for a glass of water.
It wasn't that you didn't feel safe. It was just that it had only been a few days. The bunker was enormous and unfamiliar. The Winchesters were also enormous and unfamiliar. Living here was going to take some getting used to.
So it really wasn't your fault that you almost stabbed Dean when he stumbled into the kitchen from the garage door. You heard the unexpected sound, and had drawn a knife from the block and lunged before he could process what was going on. Luckily, his instincts kicked in and he blocked you.
"What the hell, Y/N?" His voice was hoarse from sleep, and his hair was sticking up at odd angles.
"Me? What the hell are you doing coming in from the garage in the middle of the night and scaring me like that?"
Dean looked a little embarrassed as he answered. "I fell asleep in the Impala."
"The Impala? What were you doing in your car in the first place?"
"Well, uh, sometimes I...I like to just sit in her." He looked at you closely for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to trust you enough to tell you what was on his mind. "She's been our only real home our whole lives, so..." He shrugged, letting you fill in the blanks.
You nodded, understanding the need to feel familiar surroundings, to see and smell the things that made you feel safe. You could really use that now, actually.
Dean grinned at you then, and a warm knot formed in your stomach.
The last few days at the bunker hadn't been all bad. You had some adjusting to do, but the Winchesters had been really great. Sam was kind and accommodating, trying his best to make you feel comfortable and include you in his research.
But Dean had been his own kind of welcoming, because Dean had been nothing but a giant flirt.
You sensed that it was partially just his personality- to put off a sexy, nonchalant vibe that was more a defense against vulnerability than anything else. But the moments like these, where he actually allowed you to see a part of himself that was genuine and real? These moments made you think he might actually mean it when he flirted. Maybe his winks and smiles, and the way he always sat with his leg resting against yours on the couch was just a manifestation of developing feelings.
You knew you were certainly developing feelings for him. He was too funny, too impossibly attractive, too strong and selfless for you to stop yourself.
So when Dean grinned at you, looking young and unburdened in his disheveled state, and you felt that warm knot settle in your gut, you let it spread through the rest of you. This hadn't been something you'd seen coming, but that didn't mean you were going to ignore it.
"I was going to get a drink of water, but now that you've scared the shit out of me, I think I'd like something stronger to settle my nerves. Wanna join me?" Your voice was quiet and loaded, and you knew that Dean understood what you were really asking.
You watched with relief and desire as his eyes darkened. He looked you up and down, then grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the counter. You grabbed two glasses and turned to find Dean smirking at you and backing out of the kitchen.
"If we're drinking, we should be comfortable. No kitchen stools and bright lights." His voice had dropped to sound like pure sin, and you would have followed him anywhere he wanted to go.
Turns out, he just wanted to go to his bedroom, and that was fine with you.
You both sat cross-legged on his bed, bottle between you. Dean poured two double shots and handed one to you. Raising your glasses to each other first, you swallowed the liquor, savoring the woodsy flavor and the burn it left behind.
You felt the heat of it immediately.
Dean poured two more double shots, but you sipped at yours this time.
He cleared his throat. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why are you here?" His tone was gentle and curious. "I mean, you have one vision, and you give up your entire life to come here and fight evil with total strangers? Why would you do that when you could be safe at home?"
You didn't hesitate to answer.
"I wasn't safe at home. My family was killed, and I don't really want to go into detail if that's okay." Dean immediately nodded. "I had that vision about you, and I knew. This is where I'm supposed to be. I don't know why. I don't feel like I have any special skills or anything. But I trust my power, so here I am."
Dean leaned back, uncrossing his legs so that they stretched out on either side of your hips, almost encircling you. You tried not to have an outward reaction. Dean's face was guarded and expressionless, and you wished you knew him well enough to know what he was thinking.
"You trust yourself that much?"
There it was. His question was about you, but you could almost hear the rest of it: You trust yourself that much? Because I don't trust myself that much.
The need to comfort him was stronger than anything else, and whiskey was flowing through your veins, making everything a little softer and a little more intimate. You let those feelings carry your body forward to kiss Dean gently.
His response was immediate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling at the small of your back until you fell into his chest.
God, did he know how to kiss.
You licked the taste of whiskey from his mouth before settling in and letting him take over. He bit at your lips teasingly, then slid his tongue against yours with a practiced ease that made you shiver. His hands wandered over your back, pulling you closer as his lips moved down your jaw to your neck, pulling quick gasps from you as he sucked at your pulse point.
"We probably shouldn't..." he murmured against your skin. It wasn't really a protest. It was just a statement of fact. The timing was horrible. But you didn't care.
"Do you want to stop?" you asked, running your fingers through the short hair on the back of his head.
"God, no." He fell back to the bed, taking you along so that you were laying on top of him.
You stretched out, aligning your limbs as best you could to his longer ones, taking a deep, shuddering breath when you felt his erection against you.
"Dean..." You mouthed at his ear as you rubbed yourself against him, not caring how desperate you seemed.
You wanted him, and you were never one to talk yourself out of what you wanted.
Soon, your thoughts began to fade. All you could do was feel, Dean's hands, Dean's tongue, Dean's hard muscles under your fingertips, Dean's weight on top of you, then beneath you, as the two of you discovered each other in this new way. You had a few random, disjointed thoughts- that freckle was adorable, he made the sexiest sounds, God that feels good, what does this tattoo mean...but they all disappeared entirely when he thrust into you.
You had never felt anything like Dean before. It was like your bodies were made to be connected this way, made for Dean to fill you perfectly. You both groaned at the feeling, and you groaned a second time when he ran his hands down your sides, your hot, sweaty skin extra sensitive from the blood rushing through your veins.
Eventually, your groans turned to loud cries. Dean was no longer thrusting, but rolling his hips so smoothly that you couldn't feel the difference between sliding in or pulling out. There was only a continuous, seamless, delicious, perfect friction that overwhelmed your senses and ended with you clawing at his back as you came around him.
Your orgasm spurred Dean's, and you made another weak sound of pleasure as you felt his rhythm falter as he grunted his release in your ear. He kissed you slowly once more, wet and messy but still sweet, then rolled to his side.
You smiled when he sighed contentedly, then stretched and sat up, pushing your hair back over your shoulders.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting dressed so I can go to bed," you said shyly. You didn't want to assume that you were allowed to sleep in his bed. This was a time to tread lightly, and clinging was not a good idea.
Apparently, Dean didn't have the same idea. Without lifting his head from the pillow, he slung an arm around your stomach and all but slammed you back down next to him, pulling you into his side and tucking your head under his chin.
"You aren't going anywhere," he grumbled.
You put your hand over his, his fingers spreading so you could entwine them with yours. You smiled and closed your eyes, feeling more at peace than you had since you had the vision of him.
You were awakened by Cas (a literal angel- you were still getting used to that) standing at the foot of the bed and calling Dean's name.
"Cas! We've talked about personal space," Dean groaned without opening his eyes. You tried to bury yourself under the covers.
"Sam wanted me to wake you."
"He meant for you to knock on my door or something. Not barge in. We'll be out in a second, okay?"
You tried to keep your face turned from Dean so that he wouldn't see them flaming with embarrassment, but he cupped your chin and pulled you in for a kiss.
"They would have realized anyway. I doubt I'm going to be able to keep my hands off of you after last night."
Your embarrassment turned to satisfaction, and you emerged from Dean's room a few minutes later not caring if both Cas and Sam knew.
********
If Sam knew, he wasn't concerned with it at the moment. He was completely dressed and cleaning weapons, his mind clearly focused elsewhere.
"We've got a case," he said, equal parts worried and excited. He was in his element, looking somehow taller and even more broad than usual.
Dean nodded. "I'll shower, you can tell me on the way." Then he turned to you.
"Will you be okay by yourself for a few days?"
"Actually," Sam interrupted, "I was going to ask Y/N a favor while we're gone."
"Sure, what's up?"
While Dean showered, Sam showed you two ancient books he had found while digging through the basement and the Men of Letters files.
"I don't know that there will be anything in them, but it can't hurt to look. I looked these books up online, and it looks like there are a few references to The Darkness in this one, and the big one has a lot about the Mark of Cain, so there may be something in there, too. How are you with translating?"
"It might take longer than we'd like, but I can do it," you said, thumbing through one of them carefully.
"Cas can help. The two of you can keep each other company, and we shouldn't be gone long."
When the brothers were ready to leave, you walked them to the car and saw them off. Dean didn't kiss you, and you weren't sure if it was because Sam was there or because you weren't ready for that type of casual affection yet, but the hug he gave you was a little more than friendly.
You watched as the Impala pulled out of the garage, Dean running his hand over the dash, clearly talking to the car as Sam rolled his eyes.
"Keep them safe," you whispered, laughing at yourself when you realized you were now talking to the car as well.

IMPALA'S   POV
The sun was hot on my hood, but I didn't mind. I was moving fast, Dean's foot pushed to the floor as I raced down the deserted back road, and the rushing wind was enough to cool me down.
We had been driving for hours, and the brothers had been unusually quiet. Dean was relaxed and humming softly, his fingers tapping the steering wheel, but I could tell his mind was miles away. He seemed happy.
Sam, on the other hand, seemed a little tense. Every now and then, he would take a deep breath and hold it for a second before letting it out, like he wanted to say something and then changed his mind.
I had seen these moments before. They usually didn't end well, if they were ever resolved at all.
Finally, Sam broke the silence. "We can't trust her yet, Dean."
I loved Sam.
I felt Dean's back go rigid against my seat. "I know."
"Do you?"
"Look, if you have something to say, then let's hear it." Dean sounded agitated, and suddenly I wasn't enjoying the drive as much. I hated when they fought. When it got really bad, I would try to quit listening and focus on the memory of them carving their initials into me. That had been a good day, when everything was right between them, between all of us.
"Oh, I'm saying it. You slept with her, and that was a dumb move."
Dean slept with Y/N? Suddenly, everything felt harsh and too bright. It felt like my gears were grinding against each other a little too much, that I was just a little too hot, a little off. And no amount of trying to distract myself was going to work.
As if Dean could sense that change, he absently ran a soothing hand over the steering wheel. "Not that it's any of your business, but I do trust her. I can't explain why. And even if I didn't, it's just sex, Sam."
Sam stayed silent, but I could feel the tension was still there, sitting between them like a physical barrier.
I didn't like this.
I didn't like the way Dean sank back into his thoughts, no doubt thinking about her. He wasn't here with me anymore, letting the sounds of my engine soothe him like they usually did, or touching me gently, like I was something precious to him. He wasn't aware of me at all.
I hated this new feeling. This jealousy. Why was it happening now? She wasn't the first girl Dean had slept with, after all.
Eventually, we pulled into a motel, and I was parked for the night. I listened to the sounds of the traffic on the road as I ticked and hissed, cooling down and settling after my long drive. Sam and Dean grabbed their bags and locked me up, Dean grazing my hood with his fingertips as he walked toward his room, his touch warm and comforting.
********
"You think it was the father?" Sam was frowning, deep into the case they were working.
"I don't know. It fits, but something seems a little off."
"Well, it can't hurt to check. You want to see what you can get from the police or do you want to talk to the neighbors?"
"I'll drop you off at the station and go talk to the neighbors."
Neither of them seemed particularly worried. They handled these things all the time, and I had learned the difference between regular cases and cases that were actually dangerous.
I simply let Dean guide me and took them where they needed to be.
********
The next night, Dean and Sam piled into the car, bloody and exhausted, my trunk full of dirty weapons.
"Crash for the night and head home tomorrow?" Dean asked.
So they had defeated whatever monster they had faced this time.
Sam only grunted in response, and it was a very quiet night for all of us.
********
On the drive home, they talked about Amara. Apparently, she was on the loose now, and sucking out the souls of innocent people.
"We got no plan, Sam. Maybe Y/N can help."
Great. Her again. Dean sounded defensive when he talked about her, like he needed to prove something to Sam.
"She's translating some stuff for us. I think she'll be helpful, and I like her. It's not that. It's just..."
"Just what?"
"I just thought you'd know better than to get involved with someone we're working with." Sam said it quietly, squirming uncomfortably against me.
"Drop it, Sam." Dean's voice was hard, and Sam didn't push the issue. "Tell me about what she's translating."
Sam sighed and went into a lengthy discussion about ancient texts. I could feel Dean zoning out, just like I was, pieces of Sam's words floating in and out of his awareness. For a moment, he and I were in synch again.
"So basically, you hope these books will explain how she's connected to me?"
"Yes. She could have killed you, but she didn't. She protected you. There has to be a reason. And if she's protecting you, that means you have power over her. We can work with that."
"I hope so. And I'm only giving this a couple weeks before we just go after her, guns blazing. She's just a kid now, how hard could it be to take her out?"
"You know we can't do that. We have no idea if killing her would even work, or what would happen if we failed. Let's just wait and see what Y/N has for us."
I continued carrying the brothers home, and Dean pushed me to my limit before he finally stopped to fill me with gasoline.
The second Sam went into the gas station, leaving Dean alone outside in the deserted parking lot, I felt it.
I felt that same power thrumming through the air that I felt when I was overtaken by The Darkness. It was near. Dean could feel it too. He tightened his grip on the gas nozzle and began to move a little faster.
And then she was there. Standing in front of me, looking at Dean with a neutral expression that could be hiding anything. Dean froze, then walked toward her. They talked in hushed tones, and I couldn't make out the words.
Where was Sam? Why wasn't he out here, too? I didn't want Dean to be alone.
Suddenly, Amara was gone. Dean was climbing back in the front seat, and he seemed shaken, but otherwise unharmed.
"Holy shit," he murmured.
He ran his fingers down the side of my seat, his hand between the seat and my door. There was a small tear in the leather here, the only real flaw of mine that Dean had never fixed. He picked at it whenever he was feeling particularly powerless or otherwise out of it, like holding on to that one piece of loose material was the same as holding on to reality. Truthfully, it felt like that to me, too. Like it was our little ritual to bring ourselves back to each other when things got crazy.
Sam got back into the car. "What?" he said instantly, knowing from Dean's face that something was wrong.
"Amara was here."
I could feel Sam's immediate panic, but Dean stopped him from moving simply by holding up hand.
"I'm fine," Dean said. "She didn't do anything. She just talked."
"What did she say?" Sam's voice was louder than usual, freaked out and disbelieving.
"She...she said that thing about us being linked together again. And then," Dean took a breath, fingers still digging into my small rip, "then she told me that I had to choose whether I was with or against her. She said that we'd meet again soon, and that it wouldn't end well if I didn't choose her."
Sam didn't say anything to that, and they both sat in silence for a while.
Eventually, Dean started my engine and drove me the rest of the way home, never saying a word.
********
It was a nice surprise when the door opened and light flooded the garage. I had been parked at the bunker for what seemed like weeks, without seeing Dean.
I heard his deep laugh, and then hers. They slid into my backseat, Dean falling down to his back and pulling her down on top of him.
I had seen this before, I understood how this worked. I prepared myself for what was about to happen, hoping Dean would at least cover my seat with a blanket.
But the thing I was dreading never happened.
The two of them laid together, mouths pressed together while hands wandered, but then they began talking.
Y/N told Dean a story that made him laugh, a full and rich sound I didn't hear very often. It was nice. Dean told her about Amara, and Y/N didn't push when he struggled to say the words and open up. When he finally did get it all out, she told him that she would help however she could. They kissed again, and I could practically feel the tension drain out of Dean as he relaxed down into my cushions.
Could she possible be the answer Dean thought she was? She seemed genuine, and she seemed to make Dean happy.
Maybe Y/N wasn't all bad.
Maybe there was room for both of us in Dean's life.