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.

IMPALA'S. POV
"It's not gonna happen." Dean was angry, driving carelessly, my engine whining as I tried to keep up with his harsh commands.
"I know you don't want to think about it, Dean, neither do I. But if it stops The Darkness, then I have to do it-" Sam was exasperated.
"I'm just supposed to sit back and let you sacrifice yourself for me?"
"It's not for you. It's for everyone. And you can't take this all on yourself this time. You actually can't do this one on your own. You have to be the one to kill her. And I can make her weak enough for you to do it."
Dean's hands tightened around my steering wheel, and he didn't respond to his brother.
I had seen them at odds before. I hated it. We were a complete unit, and I didn't like when I could feel the distance between them. Though, with as often as they disagreed and fought with each other, with as much as they'd been through, I should have been used to it.
The word "sacrifice" terrified me. It felt cold, as cold as the rain whipping at me as I sped down the road. They couldn't really be considering this, could they?
I had experienced loss over and over. I lost Mary, then John, and I'd lost Dean and Sam more than once. It left a hole in me that I didn't understand- a feeling of wrongness that I couldn't right on my own. It felt like I had just gotten both my boys back- not just alive, but fairly safe now that the Mark was gone. And now Sam wanted to leave me.
What about Y/N?
Why couldn't she be the one to sacrifice herself? Maybe that's why she had shown up and thrown herself into Dean's life. So that she could be the one to sacrifice herself, leaving Dean and Sam to take out The Darkness and live out the rest of their lives.
That sounded like the best plan ever.
I listened to the brothers' loud silence all the way to the parking lot, where I sat in the rain for a few moments before my backseat was loaded with bags of food. On the way back to the bunker, Dean turned the radio loud, but he didn't sing along. It was simply a message to Sam that he was not ready to discuss anything.
As they were unloading the groceries, Sam brought it up again. "You know they're going to want an answer, Dean. We can't sit around and do nothing."
They disappeared through the door leading into the bunker, and I didn't hear Dean's answer.
I had barely cooled off from our short trip when Dean came out, moving quietly, as if he didn't want anyone to know where he was. He slid in and started me up, and I could feel the desperation in him. I worked to anticipate his movements and commands, worked to be as low maintenance as possible for him while he drove.
I soon realized that he had no destination in mind. It was night now. The rain had stopped, and it was cool and clear. Dean drove until there was nothing around us but empty road- no lights, no other cars, no buildings- and pulled off into the grass. He got out and laid on my hood, shivering at the warmth of my frame against him in the cold air.
I sat there, under the stars, holding Dean the only way I could as he cried. It was quiet at first, just a sniff here and there to give away the fact that tears were falling. But they grew steadily into huge, wracking sobs, cutting through me and making my gears feel twisted and out of place.
Eventually, Dean got back in, the sobs quieted now. He sat for a long time, staring at me, running his hands over my familiar parts, letting himself be comforted by one of the constants in his life, his Baby.
"When's it gonna be enough? When do we get to rest?" he whispered.
I had no answer to give.
And then we went home.
********
I wasn't really paying attention when Y/N sat down behind my wheel, and she took me by surprise. It had been weeks, possibly a month, since anyone had driven me. Dean had been in the garage to change my oil and look me over once, but I had been mostly alone, in the dark.
I had almost gone into a state of unawareness, but I snapped out of it the second her hands touched my steering wheel.
I could feel her nerves as she started me, my engine reluctantly turning over even though it wasn't a Winchester driving. She sat for a moment, letting me idle while she threaded her hands through her hair, and then she took off.
Y/N was stealing me?!
My engine stuttered and I flew forward too fast when she pushed too hard on the pedal.
"Sorry," she muttered, "I know you're used to Dean, but...why the fuck am I talking to a car?"
I now knew what it felt like to be annoyed.
She didn't get very far before she pulled over and got out. I heard her talking in a low voice to someone, and then she got back in, setting a small cloth bag down on the seat next to her. She pulled out her cell phone.
"Hey, Sam. I got it." A short pause. "Yes, it's all here, and we can break the link with that spell." Her voice sounded unsure and afraid. "We have to tell Dean. I don't like lying."
She was lying to Dean?
"Yeah, okay. I'm on my way back now."
We went straight back to the bunker, and she managed to get me there in one piece before heading back inside like she'd never left.
What the hell?
********
"What the fuck, Y/N? You kept this a secret from me!?" Another few days had passed, and Dean's voice sounded too loud in the quiet garage. He jerked my back door open and threw a duffel bag inside before slamming it shut again.
Dean was beyond angry. He was in that dangerous place, when one wrong look could get someone killed.
"I had to, Dean! We all know you were never going to let this happen."
"And now my brother has run away so he can kill himself! And you helped him! You got him the stuff for the damn spell!" Dean punched my door, and I felt one of his knuckles crunch against my solid frame. There was uneasy silence for a moment, and then he opened my door.
"Do not follow me," he said. His voice was quiet and emotionless, even more dangerous than the yelling.
The second we were on the road, Dean prayed for Cas, and I prayed for them to discuss what was happening so I would know what the hell was going on. Cas showed up almost immediately.
"You know The Darkness must be stopped," Cas said calmly. "And you are the only one who can do it. This is how."
Dean slowed to a stop, right in the middle of the empty road, and bowed his head. "It's Sam, Cas."
Dean sounded broken, defeated, and I had never hurt worse than when he felt like this.
"I know," Cas said, losing his own steely resolve and sounding just as heartbroken. "But it has to be done."
"Where is he?"
"I don't think you should-"
"Where?"
Cas sighed and gave Dean an address.
"You coming with me?" Dean asked.
"Of course."
********
I remember Sam when he was born. He was loud. Not fussy exactly, just vocal, always trying to communicate with those around him. I remember Dean, barely older than a toddler himself, talking to Sam like he understood. He probably did.
I remember Sam as a teenager. He was angry and quiet, refusing to talk to anyone about anything until the rage welled up and he let it all out in a defiant outburst. I was sure that when he left for college, one of those outbursts was all he left behind.
I remember Sam when Dean was in Hell. He was lost in a drunken rage, almost unaware of anything going on around him. But he took incredible care of me. For Dean.
I remember Sam sneaking off to meet Ruby, unsure of himself and trying to do what was right, only to get caught up in something he couldn't control. He was torn and out of control. Not my Sam.
And I remember Sam saying "We are home", and running his hand over my dash lovingly. Dean wasn't the only one who understood who I was, wasn't the only one that loved me. I loved Sam, too.
After tonight, I would remember Sam stretched across my backseat, light and pale with his blood drained, symbols carved into his chest and tear streaks on his dirty face. I would remember the way Dean curled against his brother in the backseat and cried, cried for Sam, cried for himself, cried for the unjust life that had been thrust upon them both. I would remember the way that Sam's chest didn't rise and fall with breath anymore.
After tonight, when I remembered Sam, I would remember that Sam was dead.

READER'S POV
Doing the right thing was never easy. You pulled back into the garage of the bunker, thoroughly relieved that Dean's beloved Impala was still in one piece, hoping that he was still asleep. Were you doing the right thing? Sam hadn't needed to try very hard to convince you that The Darkness needed to be stopped, and that Dean needed help to do it. You were ready to do almost anything to protect Dean.
But this?
You grabbed the bag of God-knows-what and took it inside to find Sam. He was sitting where you'd left him, at the large table in the main room, surrounded by books.
You dropped the bag and sank heavily into a chair. "This is what you need to do the ritual?" You didn't say the rest of your thought. The ritual you need to do in order to sacrifice yourself to break the bond between Amara and Dean.
"Yes." Sam's voice was sure and steady, but his eyes were red and his hands shook slightly as he turned the page.
"And how does it work, exactly?" you asked quietly.
"I do the spell, and the bond is broken. Simple as that."
"And the spell..."
"Requires me to pay with my blood. All of it."
The silence stretched between you for a long moment.
"Sam, are you sure that this-"
"Y/N, this is what we have to do. We can't risk opening the cage. We can't let Dean do the ritual, because he has to be the one to kill her once the bond between them is broken." He looked over at you, and his expression softened. "I'm sorry we brought you into this. I can't imagine how you haven't run away screaming yet."
"Because I love Dean."
You hadn't said that to Dean yet, but once the words were out there, you didn't want to take them back. Sam looked surprised for a moment, then smiled sadly.
"Then you know I'm right. It has to be me. And that's okay." Sam reached out to put a large, warm hand over yours. "And it's okay, Y/N. This is what we do. What we're made for."
You hadn't known what to say, so you just stood, kissed Sam's forehead, and went to bed.
Dean woke when you climbed into bed next to him, reaching for you without opening his eyes and pulling you down into his arms, your head on his chest.
"You're up late," he said.
"I was helping Sam," you answered. It wasn't exactly a lie.
When Dean found out what you'd done, that you had not only known about Sam's plans, but helped him, he was going to hate you. He would probably never speak to you again. That thought ripped a hole through you, but you quickly pushed it aside.
He was still here tonight. And you were going to savor every second.
You leaned up and kissed Dean, the force of it surprising him. His eyes flew open and he grabbed your waist automatically as you threw a leg over him to sit on his lap. He had fallen asleep wearing only boxer-briefs, and you stared down at his bare chest, trying to memorize every inch of this body you loved so much.
You moved together slowly but passionately, something desperate driving you. Whatever Dean assumed was the reason behind the intense way you were touching him, he didn't say anything and he didn't stop you. He simply gave as good as he got, fingers squeezing hard enough to leave bruises, mouth never leaving your skin, driving you higher and higher until the two of you were staring into each other's eyes as you came, sharing that moment as if it were the most important thing that had ever happened to either of you.
And you still weren't satisfied. You didn't want to face what was about to happen, didn't want Sam to die or Dean to leave you, didn't want to worry about Amara. So you simply pulled Dean on top of you and kissed him, hands and mouth wandering until he was hard again and thrusting into you, your legs wrapped around his hips to pull him impossibly closer.
You didn't let go of Dean until you were so physically exhausted that you had no choice, and you fell asleep with him curled around you protectively, strong arms shielding you from the rest of the world.
Three days later, Sam was gone. He left a letter for Dean, and that was it. Dean knew everything, and Sam was going to die.
And then Dean was carrying Sam's body, straining under the weight, silent and broken. The only words he'd said were to Cas, telling the angel that he wasn't going to burn Sam, because Sam was going to need his body, whatever that meant. Dean wouldn't look you in the eye as he buried him. Cas stood with Dean, but didn't try to help with the burial, knowing Dean would want to do this alone.
You had cried the moment you were alone- heaving sobs for Sam, sweet and kind Sam, always looking for redemption (for what you didn't know). You hoped he found it. You cried for Dean, suffering through losing Sam, losing a part of himself, and left to face The Darkness alone. You cried for yourself for having let yourself love these people when it could only end badly. You cried because it wasn't over yet.
********
"Dean," you said carefully, "we have to talk sometime."
"Talk about what?"
"About what happened."
Dean snorted with sarcastic laughter. "There's nothing to say. What, you gonna apologize? My brother is dead. You don't get to apologize."
His voice was flat, uncaring, and you didn't blame him for his coldness toward you.
"Then let's talk about what happens next. He did the spell. That means Amara is weak. She's out there somewhere, vulnerable, and you have to find her. If you don't kill her now, if you don't stop this, then Sam killed himself for you for nothing."
Dean's shoulders tensed. "Shut the hell up about Sam. You think I don't understand what he did? Why the hell are you still here anyway? You lied to me, you let this happen when you could have told me and stopped it. I trusted you."
He might as well have slapped you. His words rang a little too true. Why were you still here? What did you have to offer now that the solution was found? You couldn't kill Amara, and Dean certainly didn't want your help anymore.
"I'll go," you whispered, tears filling your eyes. You suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here, with Dean's eyes staring at you with so much disdain.
"Don't bother. Cas called earlier, and he thinks he found Amara." Dean stood and grabbed his coat from the back of a chair. "I'll go. You do whatever the hell you want."
Dean slammed the door behind him, leaving you alone.
********
You had tried calling both Dean and Cas, but had gotten no answer. You were desperate to know what was happening. It had been a little over twelve hours since Dean had left, and you were growing more anxious every minute.
Cas and Dean had to come home sometime, though, right? You'd just wait it out.
Unless...
No. You weren't going to let yourself think about the reasons why Dean might not come back to the bunker.
That night, you crawled into Dean's bed. For a moment in time, it had been the bed that you and Dean shared, but it was just Dean's now. It felt cold without him, but the soft sheets and the smell of him comforted you. You cried quietly into his pillow until you couldn't cry anymore, then stared at the ceiling until sleep finally overtook you.
The vision came as a dream. You knew it was a vision, though. The colors were sharper, clearer, and your mind was focused.
You saw Dean leaning against a wall, bloody and injured. You saw Cas' trenchcoat, empty and crumpled on the ground. You saw Amara, kneeling on the ground and breathing heavily. She was weak, she was suffering, but she was still beating Dean.
"A noble effort, Dean," she told him, and he looked down at her weakly, seemingly unable to move. "But you should have known you weren't going to beat me. Not alone. Not even after Sam's sacrifice."
She stood and walked toward Dean slowly, reaching out a hand to stroke his face. "I've told you before, I don't want to hurt you." She sighed. "But you're really giving me no choice, are you?"
With a twist of her fingers, Dean's neck snapped, and he fell to the ground, blank eyes seeing nothing.
You awoke screaming, covered in sweat and jumping into immediate action. Your head felt like it was splitting open, but you ignored it. Grabbing your cell phone, you dialed both Dean and Cas, leaving frantic messages for both when neither answered.
"Dean, you have to call me back. I had a vision about Amara, you can't face her, not yet. Please, Dean, call me back." Your message to Cas was similar. You left text messages for both of them as well, hoping against hope that the vision was a long way off from coming true, and that you would get through to him in time.
Jumping out of bed, propelled by your fear, you ran to your laptop, wondering if you could figure out how to track Dean's phone or the Impala, and figure out where they were. You knew it could be done, but neither Winchester had ever shown you how. There hadn't seemed to be a need.
You could figure this out, though. You could get to him in time.
You could save Dean.
You had to save Dean.

IMPALA'S POV
Sam was still dead.
Dean was now driving like he was in a race for his life, fast and angry, with no regard for how hard he was pushing me. I had seen him like this a few times before, and I knew what was coming.
Dean was going to do something stupid and leave me.
I could feel his desperation, could feel his hopelessness, and I knew that he was on a mission to sacrifice himself for what he considered the greater good.
Again.
I felt Castiel appear in my passenger seat. It wasn't the weight of his vessel that I recognized, it was the coldness. Human bodies were warm, had an essence that produced a soft, heated glow. I could feel Dean and Sam's from across a parking lot. But Cas was cold. Not that I didn't like Cas. His essence was a beautiful, icy blue light. It was fierce and unyielding, and was currently wrapped around Dean in a gesture of comfort that Dean was no doubt unable to feel in his current emotional state.
"Hello, Dean."
Dean didn't seem surprised at Cas' sudden appearance.
"Hey, Cas." His voice was flat and toneless.
"I don't have to tell you that this is dangerous."
"Are you saying I shouldn't go after her? That Sam died doing that spell to weaken her, and I'm supposed to let it be for nothing?"
"Of course not. I just think you should be prepared."
"I've got an arsenal in the trunk."
"That's not what I meant. I think you should be...mentally and emotionally prepared. If you succeed in taking out Amara..."
"Then I might take myself out, too? I'm aware of that, Cas."
"And you aren't concerned." It wasn't a question. I could always read Dean's mood, could feel it out by the way he touched me, could almost read his mind. But Cas was different, closed off and unreadable. I had to try and read his tone of voice. This time, he sounded sad.
Sad that Dean had given up.
Dean didn't answer him, and after a few long, intense moments, Cas sighed. It was an oddly human sound for the angel.
We moved down the road in silence after that, Dean and Cas both lost in their own thoughts as I rumbled on.
"We're close," Dean said finally.
"I wasn't able to pin down her location exactly. How do you know we're close?"
"Because Y/N had a vision, and it looked like this. We're going in the right direction."
"When did she tell you this?" Cas sounded irritated that Dean hadn't offered this information sooner.
"She left me about a million messages that I haven't answered. Check your phone once in a while, I bet she tried calling you, too."
"Why didn't you answer her? We should call her back and-"
"And what? So I'm going to die. It doesn't change anything. I still need to do this. To save the world. This is what I do. Calling her would only..."
"Would only what?"
"Would only make things worse. I can't change this. I'm going to die saving the world, because no one else can."
Dean wasn't being heroic. He was stating a fact. A fact that he wasn't necessarily comfortable with, but a fact nonetheless.
So there it was. Y/N had a vision, and the future was set.
Dean was going to face The Darkness. And he was going to die. I was going to lose him again, no way of knowing if he was coming back this time or not. If Dean's attitude was any indication, the chances of being with him again didn't seem high.
Eventually, we rolled to a stop. Dean and Cas sat silently for a while, and I got the feeling they were communicating, even though they weren't talking. With Sam and Dean, I had always been able to feel their connection, always knew what they were saying when they were silent. But again, Cas was shut off from me.
And then they were outside, away from my protection. Dean pulled some weapons out of my trunk and stood with his hand on my frame for a long moment.
"Thanks for everything, Baby."
I was left alone.
I sat there, lonely, for ages. Dean was everywhere. I felt the Lego pieces in my vent, sitting still without the heat running. I heard a nine year old Dean telling Sam old hunter stories and legends to get him to go to sleep. I felt the crunch of my metal when Dean hit me over and over, fueled by the grief of losing his father. Every song he sang played, the form of his sleeping body imprinted my leather seat, the feel of him and me against the world overwhelmed everything else.
I sat there as the loud noises echoed through the quiet- the shouts, the fired shots, Cas' grace flashing in bursts. I waited for some sign that it had happened. That Dean was gone.
My mourning was suddenly interrupted by Y/N sliding behind my wheel. She was moving frantically, nervously fumbling around as she moved too fast. I could feel the panic pouring off of her in waves. I had never felt close to her, but suddenly I knew exactly what she was feeling, and I wanted to give her whatever she needed, because she and I had a shared mission now. Saving Dean.
My keys were nowhere to be found, so she reached for the wires near my floorboard. "I don't know how to do this!" she cried out.
I tried with everything in me to communicate with her the way I could with Dean, to help or encourage anyway I could. But I didn't know how.
Eventually, she stuck the ends of the right two wires together. I felt a spark, and clung to it with everything I had, trying to make a noise, to do anything to let her know she was on the right track. I willed my parts to move, to work for her.
It worked. She kept working until I had enough power to turn my engine over, though I had no idea where we were going. It didn't matter. Once I started, Y/N sat up and grabbed my wheel so hard that it had to be painful for her.
I heard her take a deep breath, and then she talked to me.
"Okay, Baby. I know you aren't my car, but we have to do this. We have to get to Dean. We have to help, right? So you're gonna work with me here, please."
She jammed her foot down on my gas pedal, and I was ready. I shot forward as fast as I could, trusting Y/N to steer me in the right direction. Only, I wasn't prepared for the building that stood between me and Dean. Y/N didn't brake, she just plowed through the wood and sheet-rock as if it weren't there. I felt my hood crumple, felt the dents as the debris rained down on my car. My engine twisted in on itself, and I could no longer move forward.
I was broken.
But I could feel Dean again, and that was all that mattered.
I felt his hand on my broken door, holding himself up. I heard him speak, but I couldn't quite make out the harsh, angry words.
Everything began to fade now that I was torn apart. I couldn't hear clearly, couldn't comprehend anymore. I was almost gone. As long as Dean was okay, I could accept that. He'd rebuild me. He always did. And we'd be together again.
The last thing I remember was the certainty that I was going to suddenly come back to myself, made solid and whole again by Dean's hands and love.
That is the last thing I remember before the building exploded, and I melted into the flames.

READER'S POV
You knew why Dean hadn't answered your calls.
He had listened to your messages, heard your warnings, and he was ignoring you because it didn't change a damn thing.
Dean was still going to fight Amara, because that was what he felt he had to do.
And he wasn't answering your calls, because he didn't want to say goodbye.
Well, you weren't going to let this end that way.
You managed to use the Men of Letters' resources to dig up and cast a locating spell that would have made your supernaturally inclined family members proud. Dean was clearly on the move, and the spell couldn't pinpoint an exact spot, so you tried Amara. The spell worked perfectly. Amara was holed up, not moving, probably weak and attempting to hide. You knew exactly where she was now, and you could only hope that you got there before Dean.
It was several hours away. You took the old, beat up car that Sam had "borrowed" shortly before he died and never returned, trying your best not think about the younger Winchester and the surge of guilt and sadness those thoughts created.
The first couple of hours, you prayed to Cas while you drove, begging him to listen, to stop Dean, to figure out some other way to stop Amara. You couldn't lose Dean. When it became clear that Cas was not going to answer you, you stopped trying and drove in silence.
Silence that was filled with Dean. How had your life become so changed in such a short time? Not that long ago, you hadn't even known Dean Winchester existed. But now, as you were rushing against time to save his life, he consumed you.
You heard his laugh and saw the proud, goofy smile he wore when he made a corny joke he thought was hilarious. You felt him run his fingers through your hair as he pulled you in for a kiss, gentle and sweet. You saw the way he looked when he'd been up all night working, tired and determined and more capable than anyone you'd ever met.
You picked one good memory and let it wash over you, taking over and helping you not to panic over your current situation.
It was a simple memory. You and Dean had just woken up, both of you still exhausted but unable to stay asleep knowing how much work there was to be done.
"Mornin'" Dean said, stretching around you sleepily. His legs rubbed against yours, his arms squeezed you tightly, and you felt all of his muscles roll and flex as he groaned in pleasure at the feeling.
"Good morning."
He had nuzzled into your neck then, content to stay right there for as long as possible. You ran your fingers through his hair and relaxed into his warmth.
"You know," he'd murmured, "I still think it's just wrong that Willow's spell worked, but Buffy had to kill Angel anyway."
You laughed. "I thought you 'didn't want to binge watch that crap' with me. And now you're sad about it?"
"Shut up," he huffed, pulling you even closer.
You had spent the next hour or so happily trading lazy kisses and talking occasionally about silly things.
You had been content. Safe.
You let that memory play over and over in your head as you drove, wanting to keep Dean just that way in your mind forever.
But you knew forever wasn't going to last longer than tonight.
Sam's car broke down when you were still about twenty miles away from where you needed to be. Because of course it did. You jumped out and started walking, holding your thumb out whenever a car drove by. Eventually, a matronly middle-aged woman pulled over and offered you a ride, declaring that it was unsafe for a young woman like yourself to be hitchhiking. She was taking the exact road you needed (according to the locator spell, anyway), and you sat silently, looking out into the dark for any sign of the old, broken down house you had seen in your vision.
You didn't see the house, but you did see the Impala, about fifteen minutes after she picked you up.
"Stop!" you yelled, startling the poor, sweet woman.
She was reluctant to let you out, seeing as it was dark and deserted, except for the car and the dilapidated house in the distance, but you assured her that you would be fine and slammed the door without looking back. She only idled there for a moment as you jogged toward the house, then took off into the night.
You quickly realized the house was empty, so you turned your attention to the large storage building behind it. A flicker of movement caught your eye, and you watched, frozen to the spot, as Dean and Cas stealthily made their way inside. Not wanting to shout, you ran toward the building as quickly and silently as you could, but it was too late. They were inside, the door was locked, and despite your searching, there appeared to be no way inside.
You dropped to the ground, mentally and emotionally drained and terrified that you had come this far for nothing.
And then the fight started. You could hear it, muffled shouts and crashes, and the unmistakable sounds of people in pain.
There was no way that you could possibly sit here while Amara killed Dean. No way you would let this end this way.
Somehow, you found the strength to run back to the Impala. You were going to get into that building somehow.
And when you did, you'd help Dean take out Amara before she could touch him.
Luckily, the car was unlocked. Unluckily, there were no keys to be found.
You'd seen a million movies where someone had hotwired a car, and you were certain Dean or Sam could have done it in no time at all. But frustration at your own ignorance overwhelmed you as you reached for the wires.
"I don't know how to do this!" you shouted at no one. Tearing the wires away from the car so you could see them better, you randomly began sticking the ends of random wires together, hoping something would happen. After several seconds, you heard a small whine from the engine. Clinging to that sound for dear life, you kept working with those two wires, sparking them together until the engine finally turned.
"Okay, Baby," you said, hoping beyond hope that she would hear you, would help take care of Dean like she always did. "I know you aren't my car, but we have to do this. We have to get to Dean. We have to help, right? So you're gonna work with me here, please."
There was only one way to get into that building. You put your seatbelt on and didn't let yourself think too long about it, or think about everything that could go wrong. All you let yourself think about was Dean.
Slamming your foot on the brake, the car finally obeyed your commands easily and shot forward. You pushed the pedal all the way to the floor, accelerating faster than you ever had before, adrenaline pulsing through your veins as the building grew closer and closer. You braced yourself for the impact and let the Impala crash through the doors, taking a lot of the wall, and your consciousness, with it.
When you came to, Dean was pulling you to your feet.
"Y/N? What the hell? Are you okay?"
Your head was fuzzy. Images floated in front of you, but none of them came into focus except Dean's eyes. Those green, perfect eyes. And they looked pissed.
"Did you kill her?"
"What? Amara? Yeah- yeah, I got her. When you drove in, you knocked her down, and I got her. Tell me what hurts, can you stand on your own?"
"You're okay? She didn't hurt you?"
"Jesus, Y/N, you just drove a fucking car through a wall and you're asking if I'm okay? I'm fine."
"Good." You fell into his arms then, letting him hold you up as you tried to focus enough to figure out what hurt. But really, it didn't matter. Dean was safe, and that was all that mattered.
But of course, things were never that easy, were they?
As you came out of your fog, the first thing you really noticed was Amara lying on the ground. Dean had stabbed her, and it was clear she was not going to live through that injury. But she wasn't dead yet.
With her last breath, she muttered something you didn't quite understand, a language you didn't recognize.
And then her body exploded.
You barely had time to grab Dean's arm before the flames engulfed you both.

Impala's POV

I was a car, I existed, for a long time before I was aware of anything. I was owned by someone before John Winchester, before Dean. The Winchesters were not the first to drive me, to wash me, to fill my tank with gas. But none of that really exists for me. It doesn't matter.
What matters is the small tear in my seat that Dean would mess with when he was nervous. The sound of his voice when he sang with the radio. All the times I sat parked off the side of some deserted road with Dean and Sam curled into my seats, sleeping safely. The memories of the Winchesters growing up inside my metal frame.
********
I was on a road unlike any I had ever been on. It looked the same, dark asphalt and yellow lines shining in the light of my headlights. But nothing felt the same. It felt important, somehow. It felt like out of all the roads I'd traveled in my life, this was the one I had been meant to drive on.
I wasn't sure how I had been put back together after the fire. I didn't remember Dean beating the dents out of me, or lovingly talking to me as he repaired my engine. I didn't remember being painted again, glossy black once more and glistening in the sun like I was supposed to. I was just here somehow, whole and like new.
Better than new. All of the wear and tear that Dean hadn't been able to fix was healed and gone. I still carried the marks he'd made on me, the Legos and his carved initials, but I was in better condition than I'd been when I was first sold to John.
And then Dean was there, sliding behind the wheel.
"Hi, Baby," he whispered softly. "I'm so glad you're here with me." He sat there in silence for a moment, and I was newly aware of him. We had always had a connection. I could always read his moods, anticipate his movements, feel what he felt. But now it was stronger, deeper. I could almost hear his thoughts. I felt like we were communicating- more than just a general awareness of each other.
Communicating like two sentient beings communicated.
Are you okay? I willed him to understand that I was concerned for him. And somehow, he did.
"I think I'm okay," he answered. "I think we're all okay."
He sat there for a long moment, running his hands over me, love floating from his fingertips and coating me, making me shine even brighter.
"I...I think I did it. I think we did it. We saved the world."
So where are we now?
I could feel an overwhelming, bittersweet peace from Dean. "I think...I think we are done. Finally. I think we can rest now."
Y/N opened the passenger door and slid in. I could feel her now, too. I could feel how much she loved Dean, could feel what she had given up to try to save him and the rest of the world.
"Dean, I'm sorry..." she sounded sad.
"I'm not." I felt the emotion between them as they kissed. "It's okay. Really."
"I just wanted to keep you."
"You did. I'm right here." Dean kissed her again.
The road called out to me then, pulling at me like it had some destination in mind for us. My engine rumbled on its own, telling Dean it was time to go.
He rubbed a hand across my dash. "I know, Baby, I know."
I suddenly knew exactly where we were headed, and I couldn't wait to get there.
"Where are we going?" Y/N asked.
"We're going to Sam," Dean said, voice soft and sweet. "He's waiting for us. Let's go, Baby."
********
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.
SORRY IT WAS SO LONG BUT THERE MIGHT BE A PART THREE COMING.