Warning: This is definitely an MA fic. This first chapter/prologue is kinda happy and a little smutty, but this story is going to some dark places. There will be rape, incest, suicidal ideation and possibly character death. And a language warning. Please be cautious.

Author's note: This chapter happens before the end of Season 13. The rest of the chapters are after Season 13 ends.

Dean Winchester sat in his Impala, pondering if he should actually get out, go knock on her door. Mom was safe. Sam was safe. Jack was safe. Lucifer was taken care of. They were going to find a way to beat Michael. Everything else was coming up Aces, why not give this a chance?

He'd only spent a night with Max, but he hadn't stopped thinking about her. Her eyes. Her smile. The shyness. The fierceness when challenged. And the dreams, oh the dreams he'd been having about her of all the things they didn't do that night, but he would like to very much. But they were so much more than just sex dreams. They felt more real than any dream he'd had before. They made him feel that he was somehow…connected…to her. Maybe it was her unauthorized access into his brain…

Dean didn't know why he was hesitant. It's not like he was the shy type. It was more like he didn't want to press his luck. Things didn't tend to go his way for long. And he didn't want to drag her into any of the shit that may or may not be headed his way.

Dean let out a defeated sigh. The only real relationship he had ended with a mind wipe. He just didn't see the domestic life in his future. Shit, Dean! He chastised himself. You're not going to ask her to marry you, just see if she'll even let you in the damn door. And if you're lucky, get laid.

Dean put the key back in the ignition and started it back up. He definitely wasn't looking for marriage, but she was definitely not just another fuck either. As the engine roared to life, the radio came back on as well. The opening strains of "Somebody to Love" filled the Impala. Dean took it as a sign and smiled.

"Thanks, Freddie," he said to the radio, as he killed the engine and opened the door.

**************************************

The knock on the door barely registered in Max's sleepy mind. She fought waking up, not wanting to leave her dream about Dean Winchester. She relished each one she'd had since the night she met him. They were wild, x-rated, sensual and so realistic. She hadn't had this much desire—or lust—for anyone, ever.

The knocking got louder and roused her enough for her to get up and stumble to the door. She opened it to find Dean standing on the other side.

"Dean, how'd you get your pants on so quick?" she asked, thinking she was still dreaming.

A devilish grin crossed his lips. "Magic," he replied, joking. He took it as another good sign that she had been thinking about him with his pants off.

Her eyes opened wide hearing his voice. She wasn't dreaming. She quickly slammed the door on Dean. She turned her back to the door and covered her face with her hands as it flushed bright red. "Oh god," she mumbled to herself.

"I can take my pants off if it's a condition of entry," he told her through the door.

Her face flushed again, but this time it was from the thought of him here, for real, and no pants. She hated how awkward she was. You'd think after nearly 1600 years she'd be a little more smooth, but that was never Max.

A second thought flashed through her mind at the word pants—she wasn't wearing any. She was wearing a long t-shirt that she slept in, that thankfully covered all the important bits, but still!

Max took a deep breath to steady herself. She quietly said a few words and then swept her hands down her body. As she did so, her t-shirt became a baby blue empire-waisted tunic that was sleeveless and just covered her butt. Underneath she had on Capri-length black leggings. She decided that no shoes were necessary since she was in her own apartment. She took another deep breath and then opened the door again.

"Dean, hi!" she tried not to sound nervous, even though she was, mostly because she got caught having naughty thoughts. She stood in the doorway, not letting him in.

"So, do I need to take off my pants before you'll let me come in?" he chided her again.

Her cheeks flushed once more. "No, definitely not!" she replied, a little too enthusiastically. "Come in, come in," she stepped out of the way so he could cross the threshold.

He loved it when she blushed. He looked around as he entered to find the apartment still set up the same as before, just with less boxes and more art on the walls. All his wards and sigils were long gone. "The place looks nice," he told her as he made his way to the cupboard with the glasses. He set the bottle of whiskey on the counter and took out two glasses like he owned the place.

"Drink?" he offered, showing her the bottle of Tennessee Whiskey he'd brought with him.

She nodded and walked over to the counter, standing next to Dean with her back against the counter.

"How have you been?" he asked her, taking a sip of whiskey.

She took a sip of hers as well, trying to figure out how to answer his question. Lonely. Bored. Wanton. Terrified she'd never see him again. Sifting through his thoughts. "Not bad," she decided on. "You?"

"Pretty good, actually," he replied. "Rescued Mom and Jack."

She smiled, genuinely happy for him. "That's amazing! I'm very glad to hear."

They both took another sip of whiskey as an awkward silence lingered between them. Dean wasn't sure how he wanted to approach this and Max didn't want to embarrass herself further.

"So, um, what are you doing here?" Max finally asked.

Dean downed the rest of his drink, flashes of his dreams going through his mind. "I've been thinking about you," he told her honestly.

She smiled shyly. "I've been thinking about you, too."

"With or without pants?" he couldn't help himself.

"Hey! There's a perfectly good reason why I was dreaming of you with no pants on," she got out with a straight face.

"Oh?" Dean was curious.

She took a sip from her glass and kind of hid her mouth behind it so he wouldn't see her smile. "And I'll let you know as soon as I think of one."

Dean let out a laugh, which caused Max to giggle a little too. The stood there, smiling at each other for a moment.

"Honestly, I—" she started, but was cut off by Dean grabbing her in his arms and kissing her. She quickly wrapped her arms around him and returned his kisses.

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in close. The bulge in his jeans rubbed against her through the thin material of her leggings. But even this close wasn't enough for her. She wanted all of him with nothing between them, not even clothes.

She slid off of the counter and out of his arms. Dean started to protest. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him towards the bed. She stood them facing each other next to the bed.

She started to unbutton his shirt. He moved to help her but she slapped his hands away. "Mine," she told him playfully.

He lifted his hands in surrender and just watched her. He found the movement of her hands mesmerizing. It started an anticipation of what they would feel like when they reached his skin.

She pulled the shirt off his shoulders after the last button was undone and then off his arms. "Damn t-shirt!" she cursed as she struggled with removing it as well. This time he did help with the removal.

She stood for a moment marveling at his chest and arms; the history written upon them in scars. She ran her hands down his chest, tracing each one. The story of each scar coming to her as she touched it. She fought back the tears that were wholly hers. This was not a sad moment.

She took a deep breath as she reached his waistline. She undid his belt and his pants, but didn't remove them. She slide her hand inside, grasping him. He let out a small hiss at her touch. And his eyes fluttered shut when she started stroking him.

He put his hand on hers to stop it. It felt too good and he didn't want to arrive at the party early. He pulled her hand away and then removed his pants. She stood in awe for a moment at his beauty.

"It feels like you're a little over dressed," he half-joked with her.

She flushed a little, but obliged him, removing her shirt and leggings. She felt so exposed, standing there naked except for her necklace, not comfortable at all, like he appeared to be. She started to shift, covering herself with her hands and arms.

He lightly seized her hands, stopping her. He opened his mouth to say something, but the right words wouldn't come. Instead, he gently pushed her, so that she fell back, sitting on the edge of the bed. He dropped to his knees in front of her, placing a hand on each one and then moving them apart.

She was even more uncomfortable now, with him just looking at her. She really wasn't that experienced and it had been a long time since she'd actually had sex—like 500 years a long time. And it had never been with someone like Dean.

Dean started kissing down her inner thigh and her mind blanked. Her only focus became the sensation of his lips, his hands on her skin. She put one hand behind her for bracing and with the other, she grabbed his shoulder, digging her nails in as her pleasure increased.

*******************************

Dean startled awake, cautious due to not recognizing the ceiling he was looking at. He felt a breath on his chest and looked down to see a blonde head sleeping there. It wasn't a dream, he assured himself, remembering the events of the night before this glorious morning.

His phone buzzed, breaking the magic of the moment. He tried to extricate himself out from under her without waking her, but she stirred when he started to move.

"Good morning," she smiled as she looked up at him.

"Morning," he replied with a kiss.

She frowned when she heard his phone buzz again. "Don't answer it," she wrapped her arms around him tight.

He lifted the corners of his mouth in an unhappy smile. "I'm sorry, I have to," he said as he reluctantly removed her arms.

She watched his nude form as he got up and walked over to his phone. She gave a low whistle went he bent over to pick it up off the floor. He turned his head towards her and batted his eyes while covering his mouth, faking shyness, causing her to giggle. Then he answered his phone.

"Hey, Sammy," he greeted his brother. "Is it urgent that I come back now? I'm kind of busy." He once again looked over at Max.

She couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, so she could only guess what Sam was saying.  Well, she could hear it, if she wanted, but she didn't want to take any more from him that he didn't give her.  

"Ok, I'll be there ASAP," he said into his phone before ending the call.  Then he looked over to Max.  "So sorry, but I have to get back to the bunker."  

She wasn't happy, but she also understood.  "It's ok. I mean, it's not ok, but it's ok."

Dean pulled up his jeans and gave her a quizzical look.

She tried to explain.  "I know how important your family and being a hunter is to you.  And while I'd rather you'd stay for breakfast and lunch and dinner and really, never leave my bed again," she sighed, "It's ok. But you'd better call and you'd better come back!" 

"Yes ma'am," he replied, buttoning up his shirt.

She stood, wrapping a sheet around her and moved next to him.  She grabbed his chin and made sure he was looking her in the eyes.  "I mean it, Dean. Come back. Call. Anytime. Anywhere." 

He saw the sincerity and feelings in her eyes.  They scared him a little, especially since she knew everything.  All his one night stands.  All his flings.  Yet she still looked at him like that.

He leaned in and kissed her fiercely.  "I promise.  I'll be back when I can." He started for the door.  

"Just make sure it's soon," she told him.

He turned around right as he put his hand on the doorknob.  "Wait, I don't have your number."

She smiled.  "Back left pocket."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Maxima Wise," he read the name aloud.  "You were named after a shitty car?" 

She rolled her eyes at him.  "I existed long before the car."

"Oh, so they named a shitty car AFTER you," he grinned, letting her know he was joking all around.  Then he turned to leave.

"Anytime, anywhere," she called as he walked out the door.  Then she flopped back on the bed, a huge smile spreading across her face.  "Anytime, anywhere," she repeated to herself, looking forward until then.