Chrys walked out of the bathroom, toweling her hair dry after her "run," to Dean flipping through channels on the television.
"How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?" The reporter was asking. Chrys stood where she was, watching with him.
"Two words. Carbon emissions."
Chrys snorted at the same time Dean did, and shot him a smile.
As she did, a knock sounded through the room. The men pulled their guns, both of them taking positions in front of Chrys. She rolled her eyes. "The last person at the door was me, so how much worse could it possibly get?"
Sam opened the door to a wide-eyed young woman, who seemed to be having trouble breathing. She only had eyes for Sam, who looked concerned. "You okay, lady?"
"Sam… Is it really you?"
Sam looked confused and met Dean's eyes, then Chrys's. While he was doing that, the woman had stepped forward and placed a hand on Sam's chest. "And you're so firm."
A feeling that she hadn't ever really experienced came over Chrys. As a result, her eyes narrowed and she actually emitted a low growl. Dean shot an amused look over his shoulder at her, then turned back to the couple standing at the door.
"Uh, do I know you?"
The woman pulled back. "No. But I know you. You're Sam Winchester. And you're-" she looked over at Dean. "Not what I pictured. I'm Becky." The woman's eyes landed on Chrys. "Who are you?" she asked coldly.
Chrys pushed by Dean and came to stand next to Sam, wrapping a possessive arm around his waist. He looked down at her, surprised, and she ignored him. "I'm Chrys, Sam's girlfriend," she said cheerfully.
Becky paled and stepped back, and part of Chrys was fiercely glad. Hands off, lady.
"Oh, um… But what about Jess?"
Chrys looked up at Sam. "Jess?"
Sam looked wildly uncomfortable. "So what can we help you with, Becky?"
"Mr. Edlund told me you were here."
"Chuck?" Dean asked, coming forward.
Sam hesitantly wrapped an arm around Chrys' waist, and she tried to pretend that she couldn't feel heat pooling in her belly as he used his arm to move her out of the way to shut the door.
"He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old."
Chrys looked up at Sam. "What the hell is she talking about?"
He looked down at her. "Tell you later." He looked back at Becky. "What's the message?"
"He had a vision. 'The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it.'"
"The Michael sword?" Chrys asked, lost, and a little fuzzy-headed because of the heat radiating off of Sam. The man is a furnace.
"Becky, does he know where it is?" Sam asked. Chrys squeezed him a little when he said the other woman's name, a growl at the back of her throat. And I, apparently, am a teensy bit possessive.
"In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs."
Dean frowned. "Forty-two dogs?"
"Are you sure you got that right?"
"It doesn't make sense, but that's what he said." Becky stepped closer to Sam. "I memorized every word, for you." Her hand reached out toward him.
Chrys had had enough. "Touch him again, Becky, and lose that arm," she snarled.
Becky's eyes widened and she took a quick step back. She glared at Chrys. "You're unpleasant."
Only Sam's restraining arm around her kept Chrys from advancing. "You have no idea how unpleasant I can get, Becky."
"Sam, he probably didn't mean it," Chrys said softly, walking next to him down the street. "I mean, I don't know the guy-"
"No, you don't, so could you butt out, Chrys?" he snapped.
She had met Bobby briefly before he'd told Sam to lose his number. Once Sam had confessed his role in the start of the apocalypse, they had left. Chrys had thought about hanging back, but she wasn't sure how far away the church was. And, if she was going to be honest with herself, she didn't want Sam to be alone right now.
"No," she said evenly, trying to follow what her gut was telling her to do. "No, I'm not going to butt out. Bobby didn't mean what he said. I mean, you kind of sprung it on him, Sammy."
He whirled and glared down at her, deliberately towering. Chrys hated when tall men did that, tried to use their height to intimidate people. So she didn't back down, just stepped forward until they were inches apart.
"How many times do I have to tell you to call me 'Sam?'" he gritted out.
She met his eyes. "As many times as I have to tell you that I don't care."
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them almost completely. "God dammit, Chrys, are you seriously going to fight me on everything? You're such a bitch."
That hurt, but Chrys didn't let him know that. He needed this, he needed to get this anger out, and she was going to give him the outlet. "I will fight you every single thing with every breath I take," she said evenly.
They glared at each other for a long moment, eyes sparking. Chrys barely had time to register the change in energy before they were at each other's mouths. She wrapped her arms around his neck, relishing in the feel of his hard body pressed against her soft one. She whimpered into his mouth when his hands went to her ass, and moved without thinking to wrap her legs around his waist when he began to lift her.
He set her against the wall of the nearest building and leaned into her, letting his weight hold her up as his hands kneaded her ass. She gasped, and he used the advantage to sweep his tongue into her mouth, leaving her more breathless than before.
She used the advantage she had to pull his shirt up, running her hands along his muscled stomach and up his chest. He gave a shuddering breath at her touch. Emboldened, she flicked her fingernails over his nipple, smirking into his mouth when he moaned in the back of his throat.
He ground himself into her, making the hard length of him extremely clear. "Oh, fuck, Chrys," He moaned, rolling his hips against hers and making her gasp.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him soundly, then pulled away. He pressed his forehead into hers. "Sam," she said softly, "We can't fuck here on the street."
His eyes were still closed, and he stayed pressed against her. He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I know, you're right."
He shifted away from her, and she mourned the loss as she moved her legs down to stand next to him. He stepped back further and ran a hand through his hair, still undressing her with his eyes.
She fixed her clothes, then met his eyes. "Come on, Winchester," she said cheerfully. "Let's go find a way to ice the devil."
They turned to walk back to the building, and Chrys blushed when Sam reached out and took her hand, seemingly without thinking about it. She hoped he couldn't hear the rhythm her heartbeat was pounding out.
They arrived to pandemonium. Bobby was bleeding on the ground, a man was beating Dean, and there was a woman smirking at Sam.
"No!" Sam cried, dropping her hand and running forward.
"Heya, Sammy. You miss me? 'Cause I sure missed you," the woman drawled.
"Meg?" he asked, horrified. Chrys came up to stand behind him.
Meg grinned. Sam swung at her, but missed. Meg hit him hard between the legs and knocked him to the ground. She turned on Chrys, and her eyes widened. "Our father's bride," she breathed out softly.
"Pleasure," Chrys muttered, using the other woman's surprise to lean back and punch her hard. Meg screeched and stumbled back, clutching her face.
"Chrys!" She turned at Dean's cry, and caught the knife he threw at her. She flipped it to a more comfortable hold in her hand, then advanced on the demon. Black smoke poured out of the woman's mouth, and the meat suit collapsed at Chrys' feet.
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks."
Chrys snorted, keeping her eyes in the angel Zachariah. Angels made her nervous, as it turned out, and she felt like that was understandable. Especially since they had just told Dean he was Michael's vessel.
"Joking. Always joking. Well… No more jokes."
The angel raised a hand, fingers pointed like a gun at Dean. Then he shifted to Sam.
Without thinking about it, Chrys stepped in front of the tall hunter.
"Bang."
Nothing happened. Zachariah glared at her, surprised. Then his eyes widened. "Lucifer's little slut," he spat out.
She let confidence she didn't feel show on her face. "The one and only." She moved quickly to stand in front of Dean, too, putting both men behind her and spreading her arms wide. "So, who saw your mojo not working on me coming?"
He glared, then his face changed a little. She closed her eyes, waiting for pain, or waiting for him to move around her to hit Sam.
Nothing happened again. She opened her eyes to see the angel glaring at her in shock and anger.
Her mind worked quickly, trying to figure out what was going on. She smiled. "Lucifer is an archangel. You can't hurt me. He protected me."
She felt her smile become feral. Chrys really liked winning, especially if she was protecting Sam. "You can't even get around me to get to them." She tilted her head, mind still moving a hundred miles an hour. "Are you, like, a secretary? Or maybe an assistant?"
Zachariah grit his teeth. "There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the serpent. It is written."
Dean stayed behind Chrys, but he snorted. "Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand... Eat me. The answer's no."
"Okay. How about this? Your friend Bobby. We know he's gravely injured. Say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again."
Chrys looked back at Dean, willing to follow his lead. This was his ballgame.
But he was shaking his head. "No."
Suddenly, a bright light flashed behind the angel. One of the others that hadn't given them a name collapsed, a bloody hole in his throat. A man with eyes as blue as the ones Chrys saw in the mirror stood next the fallen angel, then turned to fight another one. They fought, and the blue eyed man won that one, too.
The man walked forward, confronting Zachariah, who looked shocked. "How are you…"
"Alive? That's a good question. How did these two end up on that airplane? Another good question. 'Cause the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?"
Zachariah was shaking his head. "No. That's not possible."
"It scares you. Well, it should. Now, go. I won't ask twice."
Zachariah vanished. Chrys blinked, but didn't move from her position between the other man and the Winchesters.
He looked at her, brow furrowed. "Chrysanthemum Summers. Lucifer's bride."
She made a face. "For the love of God, call me Chrys."
Dean snickered. "Chrysanthemum?"
"Can it. Next time I'll let the angels have you."
Sam came and stood next to her, looking at the other angel. "Speaking of, Cas, what just happened? Why couldn't he get to us?"
The man's eyes hadn't left hers. "Lucifer must have put protection magic around her. It is a fierce spell, I can see it. It wraps around her, and the two of you."
Sam blinked. "Around the two of us?"
Castiel nodded. "I assume she has some modicum of control. She wanted to protect you, and it did."
Chrys grinned. "Cool."
Castiel frowned at all three of them. "When did you find one another?"
"Two nights ago," Sam answered. "She says she's my soulmate."
Castiel nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. The bond has been twisted and perverted, but yes, she is."
Chrys frowned. "Well, I'm Lucifer's soulmate, anyway."
"No. You are Sam's. It is why Lucifer chose you. Without Lucifer, you and Sam would still be soulmates."
Chrys was still reeling from the information the angel had relayed. In a world where everything was as it should be, where demons stayed in hell and angels stayed in heaven, she and Sam were soulmates.
She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help thinking about what they would be. She liked animals, maybe she'd have been a vet. He was strong, but smart. A doctor, maybe a lawyer.
As they walked out of the hospital, Sam speaking brought her out of her thoughts. "You know, I was thinking, Dean, maybe we could go after the Colt."
"Why? What difference would that make?"
Chrys could sense where the conversation was going. She came to stand next to Sam as he spoke. "Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there-"
Dean scoffed. "I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit." He stopped to look back at Sam. Chrys saw him examine the proximity between her and his brother, but he said nothing about it. "I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that."
Sam looked at his brother mournfully. "Dean, is there something you want to say to me?"
There was a long pause. This is going to hurt him. Chrys knew this wasn't going to be an easy conversation between them. Without thinking, she stepped forward and threaded her fingers through Sam's,squeezing his big hand tightly. He didn't respond, but his fingers did tighten around hers.
"I tried, Sammy. I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right. Because it's not. And it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother and look what happened."
Sam winced. "I would give anything,anything, to take it all back."
She watched Dean run a frustrated hand through his hair. "I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man...You were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even…" He struggled for words. "I'm just, I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?"
Sam looked distraught. Chrys said nothing as he squeezed her hand tighter and it started to ache. "What can I do?"
"Honestly? Nothing."
Sam nodded and looked down, not releasing the death grip on Chrys's hand.
Dean spoke again. "I just don't… I don't think that we can ever be what we were. You know?"
Sam nodded again.
"I just don't think I can trust you."
Chrys put it down to her years of managing pain that she didn't cry out or wince at the vise grip Sam had on her hand.
**Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.
