In case you hadn't noticed, these blurbs are from a Supernatural book and that's what's been keeping me from Possession -- to which I say I am sorry. Again, for putting that one off for 500 years :/

I'm trying to catch up again, tho, I swear!!

Anyhoe: 

Part Two

"Damn, I don't think I've ever heard the bunker this quiet before." Sam glanced back over his shoulder, grinning at Dean.

"Yeah, no screaming." He glanced around, "I bet we find one of them dead."

"I wouldn't really doubt it," Sam muttered, adjusting the bag on his shoulder, "You go body hunting, wake me up if you find one, 'cause all I want right now is a two day nap."

"I'll do that tomorrow." Dean mumbled, "Night, Sammy." He walked ahead of Sam towards his room.

Sam followed close on his heels, and passed his brother on the way down the hall, stopping outside his closed bedroom door, looking at it with one raised eyebrow. His confusion dissipated when he vaguely remembered swinging it shut before they left, and without any further hesitation he swung it back open.

And stopped in the doorway again.

But not because of any issue with the door.

There was an issue with his bed.

Sam slid the duffle bag off his shoulder, dropping it with a light thump at his feet as he made sure he was looking at the right room. After a brief rundown, it definitely was his room, but why was she in his bed?

Sam sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he leaned against the door frame. Every last ounce of tension had drained from her slight body, easing into an even relaxed breathing as she scrunched one of his pillows under her head, shifting slightly so she was more on her stomach than before.

Sam nudged his bag further into the room and swung the door halfway closed before making his way over towards the bed, planning to wake her up with a gentle shake of her shoulder. Right at the bedside he stopped once again, his eyes finding one of his muscle shirts on her sleeping figure.

All thoughts faded from his mind again, and Sam paused to look at her more closely. There were gentle things about her he'd never took to notice, like the curves of her legs. She had, apparently, many more tattoos than he'd originally been led to believe, like the stack of books that fluttered into birds; it took up most of her right leg, and he'd never really seen the inside of her leg long enough for it to register. A quote from Harry Potter wound around her left ankle, that he knew. But upon closer inspection as Sam sat on the edge of his bed, he saw it read I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good.

Sam snorted softly and shook his head. Of course you do, he thought, as he dragged his gaze farther up her legs. His shirt was rolled up to about the middle of her back, just above two Wizarding School Crests -- one said Hogwarts and the other Ilvermorny -- though that's not what caught his eye. Peeking out over the top of her panties was those two words, again; Smart Ass. Deep down Sam suspected there was more to it, but he wasn't about to find out what. So -- ignoring the santa hats on her butt -- he moved his eyes up farther, past her prominent hipbones and hipbone tattoos. Past the J.R.R Tolkien tattoo, and the two other Wizarding World tattoos -- two more crests as well as small sayings. He looked across the Star Wars quote, to the other shoulder with the devil horns and finally to her face.

She seemed so completely peaceful that it made Sam's heart swell with a feeling he couldn't put his finger on. A small smile, it seemed, was pulling at her lips, despite her being completely relaxed, and Sam noticed that all the other times he'd glanced at her as she took a nap somewhere, she'd never, ever looked that at ease. She'd always looked tense, her eyebrows furrowed or slightly pulled together, teeth grinding -- that was something they all knew about, as she'd walk into the kitchen swearing and rubbing her jaw.

No worry. No anger. No grinding teeth. The only emotion on her beautifully scarred face was peace.

Sam took a slow, deep breath and reached slowly towards her, attempting to flip her over so he could lift her up. It proved to be a bit harder than he'd thought, but after a moment's struggle she sighed and rolled over on her own. Sam was taken aback at the large, voodoo-esque tattoo on her very upper left thigh, but ignored it and gently tugged his shirt down to cover her stomach and thighs before sliding his arms under her and lifting her up.

She weighed about the amount of a stack of papers, he knew that much from the various instances he'd had to toss her over his shoulder to force her to cooperate. She struggled then, making it slightly harder to notice how light she really was, but now she seemed even lighter than usual and it made Sam wonder if she'd been remembering to eat lately.

All the same, he made sure to step clear over his duffle bag before nudging open his bedroom door with his foot. Sam's footsteps were extra quiet as he passed Ailith's room, but he was almost certain that she was knocked out cold at least until noon. At the end of the hall he stopped and slowly reached down to turn the doorknob of room number twelve.

That's why my door was closed, Sam put the pieces together as he pushed open the door, and the stark contrast between the inside of her room and the outside hallway made Sam stop for a moment for his eyes to adjust.

He watched the floor, stepping over the various books and CDs and movies. The guitars and cassettes. A few drumsticks, maybe a skateboard here or there, mixed in with all the clothing that was strewn about. He shook his head and gingerly laid her in her bed, tossing a light weight, soft, fuzzy white blanket over her.

Sam stooped down, brushing her hair out of her eyes before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, "Sweet dreams, Scar."

Dean was waiting in the hallway, "What?" Sam asked him innocently, quietly shutting the door tightly behind him.

"Why were you in there?" Dean's tone was smug, just like his expression.

"Scarlett, she was in my bed. I was bringing her back to her room." Sam answered.  

K, well that happened

I can't really fluff, in case these last to excerpts hadn't already proved it

BY THE WAY, PJ DOESN'T THINK THERE'S A SUCH THING AS A 'PLATONIC BUBBLE BATH' AND OBVIOUSLY THERE IS BECAUSE IF YOU'RE NOT BANGING IT'S PLATONIC SO THERE TAKE THAT, PJ!!

Seriously, tho, do YOU think there's a such thing as a plaTONIC bubble bath? I do, no one else does.

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Feedback, as usual, is helpful and appreciated but not necessary :)