Dean bolted awake from yet another nightmare. At first he didn't know where he was, and he started to fight the hands that caressed him.
"Shh, Dean, it's me," Lisa murmured.
He relaxed at the sound of her voice and turned to take her in his arms, nestling her head against his chest. For minutes neither of them spoke. Finally Lisa broke the silence.
"What was it this time?"
"Sammy." It was usually Sammy, visions of him being tortured in hell, of him doing the things Dean had been forced to do. He hadn't slept a full night yet, not in the month since he'd shown up on Lisa's doorstep and she had been kind enough to take him in despite his bedraggled appearance.
She shifted against him now. "Dean, I can't begin to understand what you've been through, but I want to help." The strap of her nightgown slipped off her shoulder as she raised herself up on one elbow.
Dean felt his breath catch as he saw the smoothness of her curves in the moonlight. For once, all thoughts of Sammy fled his mind. There was only one thing he could say: "Yes."