SEASON 11, TIME FOR SOME PAYBACK!

Season 7, time for a wedding? Season 11, time for some payback. Even though there were some laughs, let's admit it, 7.08 hurt some too. Even though Dean tried to be understanding it looked like his heart was breaking! So what happens in present day when Sam discovers Dean has a secret lover?

IMPORTANT! This is a little AU. The darkness has been defeated and Sam and Dean are getting back to their roots... Though the flashbacks of when Dean and his lady love meet are dated back to season 10. But present day is AU season 11. Hope you guys like! ;)

Prologue.

She always goes to the same down town coffee shop every morning. Her book shop sits just across the road from it waiting to be opened up for business that morning. She sits in the same chair, one of those comfortable round chairs, that manage to be soft and stylish at the same time. It's a window seat. She sits her coffee cup on the small side table and stares into the rising sun, dappling the side walk through the leaves in the big oak trees.

She couldn't ask for a better way to start to every one of her days. She drinks her coffee, eats her bagel or muffin, which ever she's feeling like. She watches the day rise, watches the sun wash over the earth and the face of her little shop across the street. The sunlight chases away the nightmares and the loneliness. She's sighs; she's ready to drown herself in work, bury herself in the dusty books and the quiet, but most of all the security of knowing this was her place; her home.

The barista got to know her, she got to him, she got to know all the employees and their work shifts. She learned who made the best what, and when they were working she ordered what they made best. They kept aside a muffin and bagel for her every morning, letting her take her pick. When it rained they gave her the pastry for free. They knew how she loved the dawning of a perfect day.

She got to know her neighbors at the little tiny house she was renting just round the corner. They had a dog who barked at her cat, and a little girl who idolized said kitty. Sometimes she babysat the little girl at the book store. Sometimes the little girl helped her garden in the little patch of earth in front of her small house. The plants took some coaxing to grow because of the large trees growing along the streets downtown. But she'd be damned if she had this perfect life, but didn't have flowers too.

She sold her car, she either takes a taxi or walks. She hardly goes anywhere anyways. Just from her house, to the coffee shop, to her little book shop across the street. Every morning she enjoys the simple things. She loves waking with her kitty lying in the bed beside her, she loves eating fresh fruit looking out her window at the seeds beginning to sprout in her yard. She loves standing on the sidewalk watering the plants in her best clothes. She loves the sound of her high heels clipping down the old worn sidewalk.

She loves her life, this life she's built. She worked hard to build it, and now she's succeeded. She's completely unaware that it's all about to change again.

She smiles at herself in the mirror this particular morning, as she finishes up her make up and hair, rubbing her lips together making sure the lipstick is evenly applied. Fingers run through the loose brown curls that flow over her shoulders, feet slip into one of her favorite pairs of heels.

One last pet to the cat, a warm, soft black coat over her floral skirt and light pastel blouse that ties at her throat and wrists. She does up the buckle of the ankle piece on her heels. She grabs her bag and is out the door. Bag hanging on her arm, she leans in to lock up, once it's locked she straightens the wreath on the navy blue door, she runs fingers down the smooth paint job. It looks pretty good, if she does say so herself.

One last look at the house, the cat sitting up in the window seat watching her leave for the day. She smiles and waves, moves carefully over her sprouting seeds. Just across the yard the little girl is watching for the morning paper for her father, she waves at her too, earning herself a, 'Good morning, Ms Aarons.'

There's birds singing in the trees, the sun is rising earlier with the time change, someone's dog barks in the still relatively quiet morning air. She takes a deep breath of cool morning ready for this day, ready to be satisfied by hard work and the things she loves...coffee, muffins, books, quiet...she could go on and on, but those things first.

The bell rings cheerily as she opens the door of the coffee shop. Owen, the barista working this morning, calls his morning salutation to her.

"Good morning, doll!"

"Good morning, Owen," she says back, in her voice that never rises over a certain volume, warm and a little deep, but very soft and feminine.

"What'll it be this morning?" he asks.

She scans over the warm glass cases, picking what looks good and sees the sign for chocolate chip muffins. Figures they're all gone.

Owen catches her longing look, "Saved one for you, knew that's what you'd want." He pulls a brown paper package out of the warmer oven in the back and places it on the counter in front of her.

"Thanks Owen," she smiles and sighs, "I'll take the caramel macchiato this morning, with an extra shot of espresso."

"Coming right up, sweetheart."

She drums her fingers, enjoying the sound her nails make against the counter top. Owen gives her a look as he places her coffee beside her muffin on the counter. She hands him her card which he swipes for her.

"Stranger in your seat this morning," he says in a hushed voice, pointing with his chin towards her usual window seat.

And there he sits. She looks at him for a moment, making a judgment about the 'seat thief' in her mind. He was seating in HER SEAT! She'd probably have asked him to move if he hadn't looked so content. The sun was streaming in, settling on his white skin, lighting some blonde and red tints in his dark brown hair, sparkling in the most beautiful green eyes she's ever seen.

His coffee cup is steaming from its spot on her little side table. He seems to be enjoying the quiet and the warmth of the morning sun too, so she decides one morning of sharing her seat with a stranger who apparently appreciates quiet and sun as much as her won't kill her. He'll be gone tomorrow and then she can have her seat back.

So she takes the second best seat in the house, and sits facing the stranger observing him as she eats her muffin and sips on her macchiato. Worn jeans, fitting just right, if she can tell while he's sitting down. Boots laced up neatly, facial hair and haircut clean and nearly military. His plaid shirt and navy blue coat worn but fitting him well both alike.

His worn brown leather wallet lays on her side table beside his steaming cup of coffee and cellphone. It's open, beside it a picture lies on the table. She can't really see it, but he looks down at it and then back out the window every few minutes. She decides the look of contentment and happiness on his handsome face is well worth giving up her seat one morning.

There is something about this man. You know those people you meet, the ones you just want to be happy. It's the way they look, or hold themselves...you just want them to be as happy as you are, and if you can help, then you will. She smiles and decides she likes his face. There's something about the warm eyes and sharp delicate features of his face that compliment each other perfectly.

The minutes of her allotted coffee time tick by, the man doesn't look like he's moving anytime soon. She had been hoping he'd leave and then she could have her seat back. She sips the last drips of her coffee, and rises feeling his eyes on her back. She liked him as long as he didn't look at her, and now he was. She turns to catch him in the act, but he just smiles at her and nods politely.

Looking for all the world very smug like, "Thanks for letting me steal your seat."

She nods back but doesn't deign him with a return smile. Instead she sighs and watches Owen pour her to-go cup of plain black coffee for work. Handsome seat thief's phone rings, breaking the silence and he answers in a disturbingly trust-inspiring, deep, gravely voice. She can hear the smoke and whiskey and thinks he wouldn't make a bad picture with a tumbler of something fine and his feet propped up.

"Hey Sammy," he says, and she finds herself smiling at the fondness reflecting in his rough tones.

"Yeah, I'm good, just ran for a coffee...no princess, they're out of chocolate chip muffins." She sniggers at the exasperated sounding answer on the other end of the phone. "Okay," smoke snd whiskey soothes, "I'll get you a bagel and a coffee...Sammy, I've been buying you coffee nearly every morning for the past ten years, I think I know how you like it. I know, I know...I'll be there soon."

She grabs her plain black coffee and is out of there, looking over her shoulder as the stranger rises to an attractive height, showing off broad shoulders, she tells herself she doesn't notice that or the way he looks her down, or how she returns the favor. She can't afford to like or be liked. Unattached, uncomplicated, her life motto.

She leaves listening to the stranger order "Sammy's" coffee and bagel.

She sighs out in the fresh air and gives a precautionary look up and down the street before she crosses and walks up the quaint stone steps leading up to the doors to her shop. She unlocks the doors and steps in. She flips the closed sign over to show 'OPEN', she looks back across the the street to watch the stranger leave the coffee shop, look up and down the street just like her, she thinks he may be a little paranoid over something.

He unlocks and and gets into a sweet American Classic job. The car is sleek and clean, and wow, as the engine roars to life, it grumbles deep as he stalls the car and then they're smoothly setting out into the street, heading back to whoever Sammy is.

She wouldn't mind a ride in that car.

As she begins to prepare everything for a day of business she promises herself she won't think about the stranger, the loneliness she felt when he smiled at the sound of 'Sammy's' voice, or his car.

...

There are a couple of weird things that Sam notices that clue him into the fact that something is changing. First off, his brother was becoming quieter and more content. He didn't have as many urges to drag them around America in the old impala, granted he was still thrilled when they found hunts, but Sam notices he likes to stay home in the bunker.

His brother was always a neat freak about his car and the bunker, but it had gotten worse. To the point Sam was a little worried about it. He'd nearly got his head bashed in a few times for tracking mud in, leaving a mess in the kitchen, and God forbid, his shoes by the front door. (Sam thinks leaving his shoes by the door is smart so then he doesn't track mud onto the clean floors. Dean sees it as lazy, and leaving another mess to avoid making one. Which Sam guesses is true.)

When Dean started wandering into his bedroom and cleaning up after him, Sam really got worried. Dean didn't even go in his room, he didn't spend anytime there, he just knew there was mess and had to clean it up. Sam let him have his way, and very slowly Dean was reforming Sam into a neat and considerate person.

But Sam was starting to get worried when Dean came into the kitchen one morning searching for coffee and actually ended up cleaning up the coffee grinds Sam had dropped on the counter and sweeping up the literally THREE grains on the floor before even pouring himself a cup.

Sam poured his cup of coffee personally, and made sure his brother drank it. Something was off with Dean...not necessarily bad. But when you're with someone everyday for ten years straight and then they suddenly begin to change it kind of freaks you out.

Sam dealt with the weird cleaning 'thing'. He was learning to live with it. It actually just endeared Dean to him, his big brother looked after him like always, even though the world was changing.

Dean cooked most of their meals when they were home, another new thing. And it was. REALLY GOOD too. Sam wasn't about to bitch about good home cooked meals, but he was officially keeping an eye on Dean 24-7.

That was another thing. Dean went out a lot. But not late, not nights like usual. Or not like Dean had back in their chasing tails days with angels and demons. Most mornings Sam would wake up and find a full pot of coffee ready for him, looking like one cup of it had been drunk, Dean long gone.

Sam couldn't figure out where he went to, or what he did. Just that his brother came back happy and safe, and as long as it stayed that way Sam couldn't really ask any questions. So he watched Dean, watched the stress and worry leave his face, got used to seeing a smile there most of the time. Got used to the fact that his big brother was getting full nights of sleep, that they both slept free of nightmares now.

Sam was just convincing himself all was well and that it was only life turning good that was changing Dean when two things happened. One; Dean started missing some clothes. A t-shirt here or there, one or two plaid shirts...HIS FAVORITE ONES. And two; well...

Sam was siting in the impala waiting for Dean as they were heading out for hunt. He was scrolling down the reports for the recent disappearances they were rushing off to investigate when it hit him. The impala smelt different.

It wasn't a bad smell. Far from it, kind of faint and pleasant, but definitely there. Sam sniffs the air and looks around for an air freshener or something but finds nothing. He's surprised Dean hasn't torn the upholstery up looking for the cause of it. His brother joins him, throwing his duffel over his shoulder and into the back seat, shutting the door behind him.

"You smell that?" He asks, honestly puzzled.

Dean just shrugs, "No, don't smell nothing."

"I swear," Sam says, "There's a smell, something new. You get an air freshener?"

Dean shakes his head, cranking up Baby and backing out of the garage. "I don't smell anything, Sammy, you're probably just smelling your own perfume."

Dean smirks at the epic bitch face that earns him.

"Dean," Sam starts, turning towards his brother on the bench seat. "This car has smelt the exact same every single day for the past ten years and now all the sudden something's different and you're telling me you don't smell it...in your car." He waits for it, but gets no reaction from Dean. "Your car smells, Dean, smells. No, it's not necessarily bad but it still smells different."

This should be worrying him more, Sam thinks. This was pretty big, this was the IMPALA. Something was definitely up with Dean.

Dean shrugs, looking exasperated, "I can't smell it, Sammy. Sorry, is it a crime?"

Sam says nothing else about the matter, but he's now sure something is up, something is changing...like drastically. He's determined to figure it out. He's not letting anything change what he and Dean have. Finally they have some semblance of a normal life, finally Dean is happy. And it is going to stay that way if Sam has any say in it. And he does.

So Sam decides to watch and wait, and will wait for Dean to give him some clues, will wait until his brother is ready to share or needs his help. The darkness was finally gone, it had taken so much from both Sam and Dean. But Dean had been a shell of the man he'd been before after they had defeated her. Sam wasn't about to sacrifice this Dean. Dean deserved to be happy, he deserved to be this healthy, content person.

It doesn't help in the least when five days later as they're heading back home to the bunker after wrapping up the hunt that Dean runs a fond hand over Baby's wheel and says with a deep, relieved, happy sigh;

"Can't wait to get home."

Sam smiles and agrees. Dean cranks the car and backs out of the motel's parking lot.

"Damn," he adds, talking to himself more than to Sam. "It smells good in here."

tbc...

Please let me know how you like this and if you want to read more...whether I continue this fic or not depends on y'all guys reaction...PLEASE REVIEW!

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