He suggested that you take a drive. Never saying no to a ride in the Impala or alone time with Dean, for that matter, you quickly said yes.

The three of you had just finished a two week long, needle in a haystack search for a demon with a taste for small children. The bastard had managed to kill three toddlers from the same pre-school before you found him. The demon knife had taken him all too quickly in your opinion but at least the son of a bitch was done. There was not enough alcohol in the world to erase the faces of the parents from your memory. The drive back to the bunker had been long and somber. You spent most of the trip trying to reconcile the despair in your heart with the fact that the rest of the kids were safe.

The smell of the bunker had been reassuring. It was a mixture of musty, old books and Pine-Sol that greeted you, soothing your ragged nerves. After a hot shower and some dinner was when Dean suggested the drive.

The Kansas night was sultry. The late spring air was heavy and smelled of tall grass and blooming trees. Looking out the window, the sky was clear; so clear the stars were practically aflame. The moon, high over head, was full and bright. If there weren't so much on your mind, it would be the perfect night.

Dean reached over the bench seat and put his hand on your knee. You hadn't told him about your struggle but he knew exactly what you were going through. You were new to this life but he'd been doing this for years, basically his whole life. He had developed coping mechanisms. They weren't exactly healthy but he was able to function. You hadn't found yours yet.

He pulled the Impala over and turned off the engine. Turning to you, he tilted his head slightly, "You ok?"

"Truth? Not really. But I'll manage."

He nodded, acknowledging the weight on your shoulders. "Take a walk with me?"

You smiled and nodded. But before Dean reached for the door handle, he popped in the tape that was resting in the player and turned up the volume. You opened the door, taking a deep breath, filling your lungs with the fresh, night air.

Dean walked around the car to your side and took your hand, threading his fingers between yours, leading you into the meadow lying before you. The moonlight made the walk easy. He stopped suddenly, turning you toward him. Seeing Dean's face, illuminated by the cool glow, took the breath from your chest. His expression was serene, caring. Reaching up to touch your face, you leaned into his palm.

In the stillness of the clearing, you suddenly recognize the music coming from the Impala. It's one of your favorites, but Dean doesn't know that. It's a song your mother used to sing to you when you were small. "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis was drifting through the air. The simple sentiment of the song made your chest tighten. Your eyes welled and the tears began to stream down your cheeks. Dean's hand was still on your cheek and he whisked away the tears with his thumb. You looked at your feet, embarrassed at the tears being shed.

He lifted your chin and looked into your eyes, "Hey, what's with the waterworks?"

"The song," you replied, "It's one of my favorites. How did you know?"

He smiled your favorite half smile. "I didn't. Actually, this was my parents' song. Mom was a fan of the Beatles but Dad liked Elvis. He would hum this song under his breath when he was working on something. And I… well, I…"

He always stammered when he was trying to talk about his feelings. It was one of his most endearing qualities. Facing down monsters, no problem. Telling someone what's in his heart, total wuss.

"Dean, what are you trying to say to me?" you say with a little irritation in your voice.

"This last hunt was difficult, for you, I know. You are such a natural at this I forget sometimes that you are still trying to adjust. I'm not saying that it doesn't affect me anymore, it does. But I can bury my feelings. You haven't had the time to figure that part out. Watching you go through that was hard, for me. You are so good at putting on the mask, playing the role, but I saw the pain in your eyes."

"It tore out my heart." His voice broke. "I guess seeing you like that made me realize what an amazing woman you are. You're smart, fierce, caring and so beautiful. Every little thing about you leaves me breathless."

"I promised myself when I finally found the person I was supposed to be with that I would play her this song. And that I would give her this." He pulls a ring out of his pocket. "This was my mother's ring."

Dean Winchester, hunter, brother, son, and friend, got down on one knee in front of you.

"I am pretty sure you know how I feel about you. I want to share my name with you, share the rest of my life with you, however long that might be. Will you be my wife?"

It was the most you had heard Dean say at one time. And certainly the most he had ever said about how much you meant to him.

You paused briefly to let the question wash over you before you quietly said, "Yes, Dean. I will marry you."

The ring fit on your hand perfectly. Dean stood, gazing at you like something to be treasured. Placing his hands on either side of your face, he kissed you gently but with a smoldering intensity. You could feel his joy radiating all through your body.

He pulled away, grabbing your hand, practically running toward the car. "Let's go tell Sammy!"

His enthusiasm was contagious and by the time you reached the car, you were giggling and smiling. Opening your door for you, you slid on to the seat and stared at the petite diamond on your left hand. Being married to Dean Winchester wasn't going to be easy, but it would always be an adventure.

By ~ mstngsali1 at Tumblr