The few remaining memories of Dean's past life are filled with pain. No. No, they aren't. He remembers being curled up in a warm bed with another. Chest against chest, hands curled around his small waist, and his nose pressed into his neck. He inhales and there's a scent of pine. There's warmth and the feeling of belonging and home and comfort.

Sometimes he'll get these impressions; a room that's completely dull in color, old wooden furniture, a bed with white sheets stained with blood. A boy. There's always a boy. He's lying in the bed, bloody sheets pooling around his ankles. It glistens in the faint light and the demon can't look away. The room stinks with the heavy smell of blood. And he's still breathing.

The boy is always still breathing.

It's all the Knight can hear, the soft rasp as air flows down into his lungs. Each slow and painful breath echoes in his ear drums. Unlike his own body, his own body is silent. Deadly silent. He doesn't feel alive. He can't feel his heart beating. He can't hear himself breathing. But this boy, fuck, he can feel everything. The gaping emptiness inside his womb. The blood dripping out of his body and the eventual slowing down of his heart. And the breathing.

In, out. Painfully slow and never, ever enough. In, out.

The boy moves; eventually. His head turns even though his tired body should be incapable of it. And inside Dean is begging for him to stop; he doesn't want to see the boy's face but he turns and he looks at him. He's never seen the boy's face before, not once, but now he sees - .

Then Dean wakes up. Except he's not asleep (seeing as demons tend not to do that) when this delusion hits him, so it's not actually waking. More like he's returning to the here and now after a psychic vision. He can't explain where this has come from. His past memories - his real memories - are all made up of the boy with no face.

But, after that night, after he sleeps with the warlock he does remember more. After several rounds, the two of them had finally make it up to the upstairs bed and the young man falls alseep in his arm. The demon lays there, strangely content with the warlock laying on his bare chest with his muscular arms raveled around him tightly.

"You know how much I love you like this, angel," Dean mumbled smooching sticky kisses all along the broad curve of the young man's tummy,"I love how big you are with my baby. And I put him there... Mmmmm..."

"Or her," Sam corrected softly running his fingers through the latter's closely cropped hair.

"Or her," Dean conceded pressing more kisses to his stomach,"Mine..."

Sam hummed as Dean's hands slipped under his loose shirt and cradled his swollen pecs. Dean's mouth left his stomach and he stood, trailing kisses down his throat so he could hear him struggling to keep quiet. He liked playing with his lover, trying to force him to make a loud, unexpected cry, something to make him blush with embarrassment.

Dean moved his shirt higher and gave one pink nipple a long, slow lick. Sam's lips tightened to muffle his cry. He licked the other, but as it reached the tip of his tongue, he gave the stiffening nipple a small bite, nothing painful, just enough to make him yelp, then force his mouth closed, humming tensely to keep quiet. Seeing him struggle made him smile sadistically.

Sam abruptly grabbed his pants and yanked him closer, forcing him to stop his torturous play at his pecs and return to his lips. He moved his hips against him until he felt him harden and rise. Dean gave a soft groan at his surprising insistence. He pressed him up against the wooden table, rubbing himself against him in slow thrusts until he gasped. He reached down and palmed him through his pants, getting an even louder grunt from Dean. He knew he had to be gentle, but fuck, he wanted to ravage him!

Suddenly the door opened and they heard the sound of footsteps. Sam squeaked, shoved Dean aside, and yanked his shirt over his swollen stomach. Dean turned away, blushing with embarrassment as he adjusted his trousers. Standing in the doorway was a demon Dean was all too familiar with - Crowley.

Dean flinches, before staring at the slumbering young thing in his arms, instinctively tightening his arms around him as he shifted. When Sam was asleep he lay so still. The only movement was the slight rise and fall of his chest. It was hard to imagine that this was the same boy that grabbed his junk and threatened to make him a celibate. In sleep he was angelic, his face as fresh as a dew drop, making gentle snuffling noises as he breathed.

The demon hesitantly pushes a finger forward, brushing it against the warlock's parted lips. "I remember you," He says with a heavy sigh. He tilts his head and pauses.

"I-I remember you," He continues,"But I don't know who you are... What you meant to me. I only see brief flashes, visions almost, of you and me, me and you - This is one of these very small windows when I'm borderline interested in someone else's life. So, what's the deal?"

Sam grumbles something and nuzzles into Dean's neck, before settling back down. Dean can't help but let out a soft laugh, settling a hand on top of the young man's head. His dark hair furled down the nape of his neck while his fringe covered the right side of his face, going a little past his jaw-line. The demon pressed his nose into it, inhaling deeply with a sigh and letting out the quietest of gasps.

Sam wiggles in his arms, gently bumping his head against his nose. "What's the matter? Are you getting all sore around that hump above your butt where your tail is supposed to be?" He mumbles through a yawn.

Dean flicks his nose but let's out a little gruff laugh. "Shut your piehole."

"Whoa, you must have really fucked me senseless," Sam exclaims with a cheeky grin,"I could have sworn I could have heard you genuinely laugh instead of cackle! And what's this - Are we cuddling? As in actually holding each other in an embrace?"

"I said shut your piehole!"

"Awww," The warlock coos playfully, pressing the side of his face into the demon's neck.

Dean rolls his eyes and presses his chin on the latter's head. "Like you can talk. You were acting like a total bitch yesterday."

"Jerk," Sam shoots back before looking up at the demon. He winks,"Besides, decent sex tends to put me in a sugary-sweet mood."

"You had better tell me that you just had laser eye surgery and they accidentally severed the muscle that enables you to hold that lid up, because you did not just wink at me!"

"Oh, but I did," The warlock begins to wiggle again, until the demon hesitantly pulls away from him. He stands up, completely nude, and stretches high onto his top toes with his hands in the air with a loud moan.

The Knight turns onto his side, and leans on his elbow. "Is breakfast in bed always a must after getting fucked by a demon? I mean, I didn't talk to any of the other guys so - Oomph!"

Sam had tossed his discarded clothes over his shoulder into Dean's face with a smirk. Then he grabbed a plain grey robe off the wall and pulled it over his bare body, before tying the ends together around his petite waist. Dean kicked off the tussled bedsheets and walked the short distance to the latter, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him against his unclothed body. The warlock settled his smooth, unworked hands over the demon's callused one's, settling them against his robed stomach.

After a moment Sam gulps and concedes,"I can do breakfast, just this once."

"Okay," The demon agrees, pressing a kiss to his neck, his arms tightening around his waist.

"Okay," The warlock repeats dumbly.

SPNSPN

Sam was like a conductor to an orchestra in the kitchen as he whipped out various pots and pans. Then he proceeded to incant to them and the latter watched with interest as each the kitchen began to fill with inanimate objects doing their own duties.

The warlock pointed to a frying pan with raw bacon on it and incanted,"Coquere rigidas," And then turns to another pan with eggs in it,"Per tumultum!"

The demon lifted a finger towards the loaf of bread, and levitated two slices towards the toaster. He snapped his fingers and the button went down plunging the slices into its heated depths. "I've got tricks, too, sugar."

One of the spatulas that's scrambling the eggs in midair, turns around and swats his neck. He flinches more in surprise than pain, and snatches it out of the air. He manages to catch the warlock off guard and smacks the underside of his curved ass with a loud 'thwack'. He yelps and his hands fly to cup his now stinging ass.

"Dean," Sam exclaims rubbing his ass with both of his hands.

Dean sneers and tosses the spatula into the air before catching it expertly by the handle. Before Sam can even blink the spatula is swinging towards his cheeks again. The warlock yelps and bolts across the kitchen with the demon chasing after him. After running around the kitchen island a few times, he manages to grab the warlock from behind and slam him up against the counter.

When Sam tries to push himself off of the counter, Dean simply swats his ass with the spatula. The demon was behind him now, his groin... his hardness pressed up against the warlock's ass. Dry lips pressed to his neck and he tilted his head, just slightly, the demon's fingers sliding up and to his throat, forcing his neck to cant just a touch more. Then he sighs as he feels his hands on the sides of his face, pulling him sideways for a kiss.

"We could do it, again, right here," Dean's lips are so close, that he can hear him wetting them with his tongue.

"The food... it will burn," Sam points out, his voice tinged with annoyance. He can feel the latter shrug against him, but he pulls away anyway, swatting his ass with the spatula one last time.

Dean took a seat at the dining room table, still fiddling with the spatula in his hands. Sam let's out an exaggerated sigh and grabs a new spatula from one of the drawers, incanting softly to make it pick up a new task. Several minutes later, all the food is hot and ready on paper plates. And despite the fact that he really did just want to have a simple breakfast before sending the demon on his way, somehow he found himself being taken on his very own dining room table.

Sam was sitting on the table, Dean between his legs prepping him with a speed of a dog eagerly licking out its dish. A blunt hardness pressed against his opening. Sam didn't even have a moment to tense before he pressed inside of him, sliding between already wet cheeks. The demon drew most of the way out, sunk deep inside of the warlock again, and again, hammering into him. He wrapped his legs tight around the demon's waist forcing him deeper, fingers grasping at the white table cloth he'd just washed. The demon growled and took him harder, every thrust forcing out a wanton moan.

Sam pants, biting the latter's neck to muffle one of his particularly load moans. "D-damn you, Dean. Damn you for doing this to me," He grits out.

Dean ignores him, and pushes Sam further up the table until he is sprawled on it. He fully drapes himself across the warlock, before resuming his thrusting movements with twice as much ferocity. The table begins to rock back and forth on its legs making the young man being fucked on it yelp in alarm.

"Jesus! Dean don't you dare break my table!" Sam hisses twisting his fingers in Dean's hair, and giving it a tug.

"Ow - fuck! I won't, I won't," Dean pants, his hands going under Sam to grip his ass and pull him closer. He begins to slow down as the latter wraps his legs around his waist again, their hips bumping against each other.

Sam came, body clenching tight around Dean's cock and spends himself on on his own belly, his table cloth, everywhere. Then the warlock felt the warmth of hot seed filling him, before the demon eased himself out of him. Now, the warlock was happy he decided to go with the larger table when he was furnishing his house otherwise they'd both be spooning on a pile of splinters. He'd just started to close his eyes in contentment, when he heard a loud crunching noise in his ears.

Sam cracked one eye open and turned in Dean's arms to scowl at him. "Seriously?"

Dean eases the piece of bacon out of his mouth and pokes Sam on the lips with it. "Good bacon," And then resumes chewing on it noisily,"And good table. This thing is fucking sturdy."

The warlock smiles at that and says,"Yeah, it was a lot pricier than the other one, but the sales guy said it'd be worth it in the long run - I don't think this is what he had in mind."

"Reclaimed barnwood?" The demon questions, knocking his fist against the surface.

"Yeah."

"Solid top with a clear coat finish?"

"Mmm," Sam hums softly.

Snuggling against Dean, Sam smiled to himself as the demon traced circles into his shoulder. But suddenly, the warmth that he had gotten used to was being taken away as he got up. Soon, the demon was tugging on his jeans, gathering his clothes that were scattered across the room. Slapping down a card on the bedside table, he turned towards the latter, face cold but eyes full of... some indiscernible emotion.

"My number," Dean states, tapping the card in the table.

Sam nodded and pulled back on his robe. He tucked loose strands of hair behind his ears, "Do you need to shower before you head out," He questioned.

Dean nodded stealing one last kiss before walking out of the room. The demon made his way to the bathroom in the bedroom as the warlock trails after him. With just a single hand on the door frame, he paused and turned towards the latter. The warlock sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Would you like me to join you?"

Dean smirked and growls, "God yes."

SPNSPN

Sam walked into the room where Dean had just finished assembling a whole new crib. Eight months pregnant, Sam was supposed to be resting and the fact that he couldn't nest because they didn't have a room set up for their son yet had him on the edge. So he had demanded that he have the baby room set up and since his pregnant husband obviously wasn't going to be much help, it was up to him to set up the room.

Being the amazing husband that he was, Dean had taken a day off just to finish everything up so that Sam wasn't stressed anymore.

"Everything looks perfect," Sam sighed happily as he stepped into the room.

"You're not supposed to be walking around, angel," Dean reminded as he walked over to his husband and kissed him on the cheek.

"Oh, I'm fine. A little movement won't kill me," Sam scoffed, leaning into his husband,"...Dean?"

Dean blinked, looking up at Crowley. "Zoned out," He mutters rubbing the back of his neck,"Now what are you squawking about?"

"Squawking?" Crowley barks, making the two hellhounds curled at his feet lift their heads. He rubs both of their snouts to settle them down, and continues,"You had one damn job! A fairly simple one I might add! With one bloody rule! Don't have a roll in the hay with the damn target!"

"For good reason," The King of Hell hisses, pointing a finger at him,"I should have you strung up by your sack for disobeying me!"

"But you're not going to," The Knight drawls with a smile,"Because I've taken a liking to this pretty little thing. And as you very well know, I don't like my things being broken."

"There are better toys out there. Surely there is someone, anyone -"

"No," Dean states with a finality that makes the latter press his lips together,"He's mine. You hear me? Mine! If I so much as head a whisper of his name in the pit, I'll make the rack seem like a brand new mattress compared to what I'll be laying down."

Dean stands and turns on his heel, heading towards the door way. A sharp whistle rings in the air, and all of a sudden the two hellhounds are blocking the doorway. The Knight slowly reaches into the hem of his jeans, clenching his fingers around the smooth handle of his blade. Pulling out the sharpened jaw bone, he turns pointing the tip towards the King of Hell.

"Call off the dogs," Dean snarls,"Or you'll be on the ground before their teeth even break my skin."

Crowley narrows his eyes, but he gulps nervously at the sight of the blade. He lets out a low whistle, and the dogs go back to his side. "You're making a big mistake," The King of Hell warns,"Dean... Dean!"

Dean walks out the door, returning the blade to the hem of his jeans. The shouts grow fainter and fainter, until they're completely gone. The demon keeps on walking, doesn't even look back. He has to get to Sam.

SPNSPN

Sam makes his way down the crowded street, trying not to be late for work for once. He rolls his eyes at the thought. He doesn't even know why he tries. But he speeds up anyway. He skids to a halt, however, when a familiar demon appears out of nowhere a few feet in front of him.

Dean looks like he's about to greet him, when Sam quickly walks around him. The warlock hears the demon practically running behind him to catch up, which of course only makes him g even faster. He nearly pisses himself when the demon just teleports right in front of him, grabbing his shoulders.

"Why are you running away?" The demon asks, removing his hands and slowing down to a steady walk beside the young man.

"I'm not running from anything," The warlock argues, avoiding the latter's eyes,"Unless you're implying I have a reason to? I think it's best you go."

"Not until you give me a second," Dean shoots back.

Sam scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest,"You can't keep following me!"

"Why not?"

Sam stops in front of a square white building, with narrow windows in straight rows. There was nothing about it in the very least picturesque or attractive, for it was far too modern to at all suggest anything mediaeval or mysterious; it was just thoroughly mundane. The neon red sign on the front read: Healing Paws Veterinary Clinic. It was then that Dean noticed the pristine white lab coat folded over Sam's arm, a name tag clipped to the front that said: Samuel Campbell.

"Because this is where I work," Sam states crossly, his hazel hues narrowed,"If you follow me in here –"

"Just let me talk to you, okay," Dean proposed, holding up his hands in a form of surrender,"That's all I want, just need to ask something. If you say 'no', then I'm gone. You'll never see me outside of the bedroom again, and you can carry on neutering cats or defleaing mutts or whatever it is you do."

Sam contemplated the latter's words for a moment before exhaling deeply,"Okay, you've got five minutes."

"I need your help with a spell - Ow!" Sam had slapped both of his hands against Dean's chest, looking around in alarm.

The warlock, keeps his hands there, and whispers,"You can't just yell out something about spells where I work! What the hell is the matter with you?"

"What?" The demon barks back, slapping the latter's hands off of him.

"I try to keep my work life separate from... my personal life, Dean," The young man explains, tucking his hands into his pant's pockets,"So can you keep it down?"

"Aren't you a little too young to be working here, anyway? You're what - Like twenty at most..."

Sam's cheeks turn a bright red.

"Holy shit -"

"Shut up!" Sam exclaims, his whole face turning scarlet in humiliation.

Dean's lips stretched into a wide and open grin, showing his teeth. "Little mister perfect magiced his way into a veterinary career, huh?"

"I'm more than qualified. Trust me!" The warlock yells, scandalized,"I-It's just hard to get into schools when you don't look the proper age..."

"Whatever," The demon says with snort,"Anwyay. I need your help with a spell. A memory spell."

"Memory spell? Whatever for?" Sam asks with one brow raised.

"To remember things."

"Don't be a smart-ass!"

Dean rolls his eyes, and says,"This is the dumbest conversation. Will you help me or not, Sam?" Sam bites his lip, contemplating, when Dean continues,"Come on, come on, come on! You gotta make a decision here!"

"Alright!" The warlock concedes.

"Alright as in... yes?"

"Yes!" The young man groans, and begins pushing the latter away,"Now go! I have work to do."

SPNSPN

Dean teleported straight to Sam's house after their conversation finished, and settled on his couch. He summons the remote to the television from the other side of the room and begins watching some reruns of a crappy sitcom. Several hours pass, when the key finally turns in the lock and Sam steps in with company.

Sam is chatting with the other man, but he can tell the other man isn't really into the conversation. The other man is focusing a little too much on his ass. Then suddenly he's reaching a tentative hand forward to grab it. Dean clears his throat alerting both to his presence in the room.

The stranger quickly pulls his hand away and asks,"Who's this guy?"

"I'm his brother," Dean stands up and offers a hand,"We haven't seen each other in a while and I decided to surprise him with a visit."

"And it is quite the surprise," Sam grits through his teeth.

The stranger takes the demon's hand, flinging as the bones in his hands pop loudly in the latter's grip. "Ah, Dean - I'm Harry. It's nice to meet you -"

"So what are your intentions with my baby brother?" The Knight interupts, folding his arms across his broad chest,"A little... fucking - Maybe a screw, or a bang, or a lay, or whatever you call it? Maybe you're just looking to get your leg over? Or just some dry humping? A handie?"

"Dean," The warlock snarls, the lights overhead starting to flicker,"Don't you have to go back to... hunting?"

"I already caught it."

"Um, maybe it escaped... You should probably go catch it."

"Fine, I killed it! How about that?"

"I'm just going to go," Harry squeaks, making a run for the door before Sam can object,"Um, maybe you can call me later -"

Dean growls and snaps his fingers, making the door slam in the latter's face. Sam sets his hands on his hips and hisses,"Was that really necessary? He was here to talk about work."

"Mm, doubt that," Dean argues with a low laugh.

"It's not funny! You can't j-just - Ughh," Sam groans, running his hands over his face,"Come downstairs so I can go ahead and get this spell over and done with."

SPNSPN

Sam is still wearing his normal work clothes, much to Dean's disappointment. The warlock is gathering herbs and casually tossing them into the same golden bowl from last time, and chanting softly under his breath. The demon sighs and adjusts his position in the hard chair he's been made to sit in.

"Why aren't you wearing the booty shorts?" Dean questions, settling his chin on his hands.

Sam gave him an amused look and corrected,"Enhancement shorts. They're not needed for this spell."

"Shame," The demon sighs.

"Shut up," The warlock states with an eye roll,"And come stand by the bowl. When I finish the incantation, everything in the bowl will set on fire. When the smoke begins to rise, I need you to get real close and inhale."

"That's it?"

"That's it. Even you can get it," Sam says with a thoughtful look on his face.

"What? What are you thinking about?"

The warlock laughs softly and quips,"Nothing. I was just wondering how you comb your hair so your horns don't show."

"Or it could be that the very idea of you doing a favor for me makes those ass cheeks clench up so tight that you could shove a lump of coal up there and probably crap out a diamond!"

"Definitely not. Believe it or not, I'm not turned on my every single damn thing," Sam counters with an exasperated sigh,"Now shut up. I need to concentrate."

The young man takes a deep breath, and starts to incant,"Huius memoriam repetunt. Da plenum est retrorsum -" He throws a handful of what looks like dried lavender and then pulls his hands back. He closes his eyes and makes both hands into a fists, before splaying his fingers out again,"Nunc autem posuit flammis!"

The bowl ignited in cracking flames and smoke began to rise quickly. Dean sits on his knees in front of the bowl and inhales deeply, the smoke curling into his nostrils. He watched everything in room begin to blur as he began to slump to the ground. He felt hands run over his face, cradling his jawline as lips run over his ear.

"Remember," Sam whispers.

Then darkness.

SPNSPN

Dean sees brief flashes.

Memories.

The boy is on his knees, his hands daintily situated over his lap; unfurled wings stretch behind him. He's wearing nothing but a cotton robe that Dean had pulled over his trembling, naked body. He has big, wide hazel eyes that go over his body curiously with pomegranate pink lips that are parted. His hair, dark and lustrous, had a sheen like fine hardwood. It swayed in the wind and he grabbed a strand, twisting it in his fingers.

"What's your name?" Dean asks, releasing the strand.

"...S-Samuel," The boy utters, the feathers on his wings ruffling,"My name is Samuel."

"I think I'll just call you, Sam. Is that okay?" Dean begins to tug off his morning coat, gently setting it around Sam's shoulders.

Sam nods and pulls the coat closer to his body. Suddenly the boy's fingers are running down his tie, curiously stroking it. He settles two fingers on the knot, and pokes it repeatedly.

Dean laughs, taking Sam's hand in his own. "Tie," He explains, pointing to the object in question around his neck,"It's a tie."

"T-tie," Sam utters, inclining his head to the side.

"Come," Dean says, taking both of Sam's hands and raising him up,"I'll bring you back to my apartment and I'll get you some proper clothing. And some hot food to settle your stomach," He swallows thickly, holding the latter's hands tighter,"Forgive me. I must be imagining things, but I simply must ask - Do you have wings?"

"Y-Yes," Sam whispers.

"May I ask if you're an angel?" Dean inquires, running his hand up one of the feathers protruding from under hisborrowed morning jacket. Abruptly, the wings disappeared leaving no lumps under the cloth the boy was wearing.

Sam nods slowly, and bites at his lip. "I c-can make them disappear, when I am here. But I am what you think."

"I've never had the company of any angel before," Dean manages to say,"What does an angel consume for sustinance? Some bread and cheese, perhaps? Maybe a slice of angel food cake?"

"I've never had any human food before," Sam admits as his shoulder slump.

Dean smiles, kissing Sam's knuckle. "Then this shall be a thing of trial and error. You will eat every crumb in my cabinet if need be," He gives the angel an almost giddy smile, unaware of why his heart was beating so,"Come now. It's not proper for you to be out like this."

The memory changes.

Sam and Dean are standing in the back of their apartment building, in the small grassy area. Days earlier they'd planted some wheat and barley seeds, and much to Sam's humiliation, Dean had him urinate on them. But the man's theory did prove correct, for there were several sprouts protruding from the ground.

Dean cupped Sam's still flat belly and whispered in his ear,"You're pregnant."

Sam grinned ear to ear, and nuzzled his face into Dean's neck, running his lips over the prickly skin. "I'm so happy," He says softly, his voice nearly choked by tears,"But I do wish for you to explain to me, again, how this proves it."

"Gross as it sounds," Dean chuckles, rubbing soothing circles into his husbands belly,"One of the earliest, if not the earliest, home pregnancy tests came from Ancient Egypt. In 1350 BCE, women and men were advised to urinate on wheat and barley seeds over the course of several days; if either of the seeds sprouted they were pregnant. If neither sprouted, they weren't pregnant."

The boy smiled and placed his hands over his hubands,"And this makes you happy?"

"More than you'll ever know, angel."

The memory changes.

When Dean felt resistance on his right, his gaze landed on the sleeping angel, snoozing peacefully. Sam's cheek was leaning on the back of Dean's hand and he couldn't help but smile. He twisted his hand around and gently tickled his cheek. The angel mumbled and nuzzled into his palm. Dean continued to caress Sam's jaw and watched as he yawned and rubbed his eyes as he woke.

"Dean," Sam hummed tiredly. He smiled lazily at him before his eyes widened and he gasped,"It's today, isn't it? The photographer is coming!"

"I've never seen one get so excited over having their picture done," Dean mumbles kissing Sam's colorbone, his hands going around his little baby bump,"Did we not have one when we were wed?"

The angel huffed and points out,"Yes, yes. But this one will be just you and I. No chatter-mags running about in the background!"

The man laughs and presses another kiss to his neck. "I want for your wings to be out in this photograph."

The boy falls silent and he stutters,"B-But, Dean... you told me they were to be secret. That I should never, ever tell a living soul..."

"Don't worry, my angel," Dean reassures, taking both of his hands in his own and pressing them to his chest,"We will claim they are a mere costume piece. Pieces of high quality and realism. If you do not wish to, then you need not to... I just wish to have a photograph with you as you are."

The memory changes.

"Your name is what again," Dean questions setting the glass of lemonade in front of the man.

"Crowley," Crowley says with a posh British accent and a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He picks up the glass and takes a loud gulp,"Good. Very good. Did your wife make it?"

"Husband," Dean corrects, just as his beloved walks in with a tray of freshly baked cookies,"Speak of the Devil."

Sam smiles, setting the tray on the small table at their feet. He leans back up, rubbing the swell in his stomach and takes a seat next to his husband. Dean wraps his arm around his shoulder, and pulls him closer, setting his chin on top of his head. Crowley leans forward and collects a couple of cookies and quickly begins munching down on them.

"Do you hail from England?" Sam questions with a curious look, both hands settled on his stomach.

Crowley swallows his mouthful and nods. "Scotland originally, young lad. But I have... settled there so to speak. Have you ever wandered further than your own states?"

"Oh, no," Sam denies with a shake of his head.

"What is it you were wanting, Mister Crowley," Dean interjects with a frown, the grip on his husbands shoulder tightening.

Crowley clears his throat and says,"I'd prefer to speak with you alone, Mister Winchester."

"I'm afraid that shan't be happening -"

"It's fine, Dean," Sam murmurs softly, squeezing his hand,"I'll wait in the bedroom." He gets up and makes his way down the hall to their bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"Now what is it you wish to talk about without the presence of my husband," Dean questions with more aggression then he meant.

Crowley's lips quirk ever so slightly and he inquires,"Tell me, what is your line of work?"

"I'm an automobile man."

"And your husband?"

"My husband," Dean says softly,"... currently has no job. He attends the local university to obtain his degree. He's very, very bright and he has hopes to teach in the future."

Crowley nods and takes another noisy gulp from his lemonade,"He attends while he's burdened with child? That's quite the feat."

"It is," Dean agrees with a faint smile,"Would you mind me asking just what you've come here for, Mister? I take it has something to do with a job since you're leaning towards the subject."

"A job... of sorts," Crowley answers, snatching up another cookie,"I'm going to be upfront with you. I am the King of Hell and I am in need of Knight. I believe that you fit the bill."

Dean's eyes widen and he says,"I beg your pardon?"

"Please! As if a bloody demon is anything new. You are married to an angel after all," Crowley shoots back with an eye roll,"Yes, I know what your husband is. I'm all too familiar with his kind."

Dean abruptly stands, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Out," He points towards the door,"Now!"

"I would contemplate my offer, Mister Winchester. If we do come to make a deal... you won't regret it."

Dean wakes with his head in Sam's lap. Sam is staring down at him, his fingers combing through his short hair as hums softly. He recognizes the song as "Born to Be My Baby" by Bon Jovi. The demon abruptly sits up, staying on his knees as he stares at the warlock in front of him.

"What did you see?" Sam questions, his eyes wide with worry.

Dean doesn't say anything. He just leans his head down, pressing it against the latter's chest as he lets out an uneasy breath. Sam places his hands on either side of Dean's face, making him look up at him. The demon presses both of his hands on the one's at both sides of his face, relishing in the smooth skin that emitted a warmth he'd long forgotten. He takes one in his hand and presses it to his lips.

"Dean, you're worrying me," Sam manages to choke out. The warlock begins to pull away, when the demon tightens his grip around him with a growl.

"Don't," Dean grits out, his hands squeezing the life out of Sam's,"Please... Just stay. Stay with me, angel."

The warlock slowly nods, rubs his thumb across the demon's cheek bone. "Okay," He whispers with a slight smile,"I'll stay. I'll stay until you can get a grip on yourself."

A pair of warm arms surround Dean as he lies down next to Sam. The demon places his head on the warlock's chest again and he ravels his arms around the latter's torso, holding him tight. He lazily brings his head up to meet the latter's in a light kiss. Then he burrows his head into his neck, breathing in the sweet scent as well as the other lingering smells in the basement. Both of their legs are wrapped together, making the two inseparable. The rhythmic beat of Sam's heart and his warm embrace eventually relaxes Dean, but still he clings to his angel.