Sam had enjoyed the view when Helen had fallen a little too much. Seeing her in that position sent all sorts of erotic thoughts through his head. If he'd have been Dean, he'd have Helen in a compromising position already. But he wasn't so he followed where she led.

Sam was not expecting the room he was ushered into. It wasn't all that big, probably 20' by 20', but three of the walls were covered with books from floor to ceiling. The floor space held a couch with a lamp at either end and several display cases that no doubt held the most valuable of her pieces.

"All the ones stacked are just copies and translations," she told him. "I get them shipped from all over. Occasionally I find a rare one in all the mess."

"And the displays?" Sam asked, although he already knew what they were. He just liked the sound of her voice.

She beamed with pride as she started talking about them. "They are originals, mostly just pages not whole books, from some of the earliest known writings."

Sam walked up to the first one. It looked like it was hieroglyphs. "How come they aren't in a museum?"

"Oh, these are pieces that used to be in museums, but people just lost interest because bigger and better were found. I purchased them with very generous gifts that fund more research and expeditions."

Sam didn't hide his surprise very well and so Helen continued, "Like I said, occasionally we find a rare book and they can sell for a pretty penny. Not to mention all of Grandma Marjorie's occult stuff. It's more lucrative than you might think."

Sam looked a little embarrassed. "I didn't—"

She put a hand on his chest. "It's ok. I'd be surprised and curious too!"

He tried to respond, but was taken aback by how much the small touch re-ignited his excitement. He managed a smile as she turned to one of the displays, oblivious of her effect on him. He cleared his throat and turned to look at the same one.

"So, why does your grandmother call you Hell's Bells?" Sam casually asked as he admired the page of text.

Helen smiled. "I have naturally red hair," she told him. "And apparently I was a bit of a mischief maker when I was younger, so my dad's mom, Grandma Troy—"

"Wait," Sam interrupted her, not believing what he was hearing. "Your last name is Troy?"

She smiled, pleased he knew he Greek mythology. "Yep, that's me, Helen O. Troy, the most beautiful woman in the world," she rolled her eyes. She wasn't fishing for a compliment, just telling it like it was. "Wasn't Prince Paris waiting outside to whisk me away?" she added, swishing her skirt.

Sam laughed at her silliness. "Should I even ask what the 'O' stands for?"

"Absolutely nothing," she replied, scrunching up in her nose in playful distaste. "It's literally just an 'O'."

Sam shook his head, still smiling. "That's brutal! Who do they think you are? Truman?"

Helen laughed. She wished she were prettier so she might be a bit more confident in making a move. This man beside her was smart, funny, interested in dead languages and old literature, not to mention one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen. There was little to no chance he was into her.

Sam decided her laugh was the best thing to happen to him today. He'd been so stressed out and consumed with everything that had been going on, but her laugh made him feel like the world might be alright. And it'd been a long time since he had that feeling.

"What's this one?" he asked, walking over to one a few feet away.

"That one's a mystery," she said, following him over. "The parchment carbon dates to a few thousand B.C., but no one can identify the language, so most experts think it's a fake."

Sam looked at the parchment, recognizing the writing. "It's Enochian," he told her, without thinking about what he was saying.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Enochian? Like 'language of the angels' Enochian?"

He nodded.

"I thought you weren't interested in that stuff," she teased while knocking him with her shoulder.

"I…" he couldn't think of a good reply because he was too busy trying to figure out what this parchment might be.

"I got something you might like over here, since you know what Enochian is," she walked towards a stack of books and started scanning the spines.

After a few minutes Sam turned to finally give her a reason when he stopped short of opening his mouth. Helen was bent over, looking at a couple of the books closer to the floor. Seeing her hips and the outline of her ass in such a position fully awakened the erection he'd been fighting since the view of her beautiful breasts. He wanted nothing more than to go over to her, grab her hips and bury himself inside her until they were both breathless and satisfied.

"Here it is!" she exclaimed as she grabbed the book. She quickly turned as she stood, finding herself looking at Sam's chest.

"Well, hello," she laughed, but stopped when she looked up into his eyes.

At first she thought she must be imagining the desire in his eyes. She didn't think of herself as a woman who kindled that much passion in anyone. But after a few, erratic heart beats, the flames were still burning in his eyes.

Her lips and mouth were suddenly dry. A heaviness settled in her breasts and a warmth started to spread at her core. She reflexively licked her lips.

Sam watched her pink tongue slide across the rose of her lips. He shivered slightly, imagining what it would feel like sliding down his hard shaft. Damn what she did to him.

"Can I kiss you?" Sam wanted to make sure they were on the same page.

"If you don't—" she started her reply but was cut off by Sam grabbing her around the waist with one arm, pulling her in close, and the other hand being buried in her hair as he kissed her fiercely.