Rain drummed against the roof of the Bunker later that day. Clara took soft, smooth breaths in her sleep, her legs tangled with Sam's and her head on his chest. They had relocated to his room to escape the cold of the garage, but she still shuddered slightly, so Sam sleepily reached down and pulled the cover over her. She snuggled back into him, muttering something about space before nodding off again.

Sam had to admit, Clara was amazing. Way better than the girl from the diner, and much more loving. Sam would never tell his brother, but he'd been longing to caress someone, to hold them in their sleep. It wasn't just about sex anymore for him. He was getting older. He wanted something more.

And for some reason, he was starting to feel like Clara Oswald was the perfect 'more' he was waiting for.

Their passion had burned through, turning into something softer, gentler. Making love was so different than sex, Sam thought. He'd only made love with a handful of people – Jess, Madison, Amelia, and now Clara. It felt exclusive and warm and perfect.

I haven't even known her a week, Sam thought. How can I feel like this?

He remembered Jess, though. They had done it the first night they met, had faced several weeks of embarrassment afterwards, and then decided to be a couple. Was that how this was going to work?

She's going to leave, though, he remember. Eventually she's going to find her friend and literally fly away. Maybe attachment is a bad idea.

"What are you thinking about?" she muttered, nuzzling against his neck.

He smirked. "You." He ran his hand down her back, gently massaging the small of her back.

"Mm, I would be too," she said, and he laughed. "But really. What's wrong?"

Sam hesitated. He was afraid he'd scare her off if he said anything. "Just worried about this whole Darkness thing, is all," he lied.

"Let me get this straight." She propped herself up so she could look him in the eyes. "You have a naked woman in your bed and you're thinking about work?"

Sam laughed, snaking his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. He kissed her forehead, and she settled back against him, reaching up to toy with his hair. They just lay there for a while in silence until Clara's stomach growled.

"Hungry?" Sam grinned, sitting up.

"Starved. I hope you know how to cook? Or are you just a pretty face?"

Sam's grin widened. "Dean's the cook, but I can hold my own in the kitchen."

"Not a great answer – I'll cook."

They stood, getting dressed quickly and headed for the kitchen. Clara examined the contents of the fridge before removing the necessary ingredients for spaghetti. She began making the sauce from scratch, and Sam headed into the other room to check in with Dean.

"Not much of a lead," Dean admitted over the phone. Sam could hear Castiel and Claire arguing in the background, and Jody attempting to break it up. "Didn't check out. Holding down the fort okay? How's Clara?"

"Good, good," Sam said. "Great, yeah. Everything is fine."

"Good, great, and fine, huh? Sounds like things are better on your end."

"Yeah, uh," Sam chuckled. "Definitely."

Dean paused. "Dude, did you sleep with her?"

"Uh," Sam swallowed, hesitating. "Yeah," he finally admitted, smiling.

"Nice! Aw, man. Not gonna lie. I'm jealous. How was it?"

"Amazing," Sam replied honestly.

"Yeah, I'll bet. Listen, I gotta get going, Claire and Alexis are about to pull the puppy dog eyes on me for a ride to the store and I'm gonna need all my concentration to resist. But listen, Sammy – you kids have fun now."

He hung up, and Sam smiled to himself, before heading back to the kitchen.

The entire room smelled amazing, and Sam came up behind Clara, who was stirring the sauce. He looked over her shoulder. "That smells awesome."

"And it's almost finished. How are Dean and Cas? Did their lead check out?"

"Nope," Sam said, checking on the bread in the oven. "But I'm going to send them a few small things to check out over that way. I'll be right back."

He went to his room, opening his computer and pulling up the cases he had found in their area. He sent them to Jody's email so she could share them with Cas and Dean, and shut his laptop. Before he left, he checked himself in the mirror, shoving his hair back and checking his neck like he did every night, still paranoid about the infection. It seemed to be gone for good, but he couldn't shake the feelings he'd had when going through it.

He smoothed his shirt, and turned to leave, but stopped, frozen with shock.

Rowena was standing in the doorway.

"Date night?" she asked with an innocent smile.

Sam lunged for his gun on the nightstand. Rowena waved a hand and said, "Descendit."

Sam felt an invisible force knock him to the ground and hold him there. Rowena smiled again. "Don't worry. I'll be just a minute. Somno graui excitatum."

Clara took everything out of the oven, laying it out and removing her oven mitts.

"Sam!" she called as she busied herself setting the table. She frowned when he didn't respond. "Sam? Dinner."

Her frown deepening, she went to his room, gasping when she found him unconscious on the floor.

"Sam!" she said, falling to her knees beside him and shaking him. "Sam, wake up. Wake up!"

He didn't budge, and she tried pulling him up, feeling his wrist for a pulse, which he thankfully had.

"Oh, god," she said, examining his head for any trauma. "C'mon, please be okay."

"I wouldn't worry too much, darlin'," said a woman's voice from the doorway. "He's only sleeping. He'll be fine."

Clara looked up, finding a tall elegant looking woman with a bundle of bright red hair falling around her shoulders. She wore a dark cloak, and held an odd looking book in her arms.

"Who are you?" Clara demanded. "What did you do to him?"

"A simple sleeping spell," the woman assured her. "He'll wake to nothing more to a mild headache. Maybe a bit more than mild. Alright, raging, but he'll live."

With the word 'spell', it dawned on Clara who she was dealing with. "You're the witch. The one Crowley mentioned, his mum."

Rowena raised her eyebrows. "You know my son? Condolences. He had such a temper, poor wee lad. But I'm a bit more interested in you. I didn't know the Winchesters kept housepets."

Clara stood, nodding at the book. "What's that you've got?"

"Just something that belongs to me. The Winchesters really aren't good at sharing."

"Give it to me." Clara held out her hand, swallowing, trying to decide if she was being stupid or brave.

Rowena looked amused. "I think not." She laughed. "You know, now that I think of it, having the Winchesters out of the way . . . well, now that I have the codex back . . . I suppose I should leave them a little gift." She waved her hand over Clara. "Dele malum hoc."

Clara took a deep breath, stepping back as she expected something awful to happen. She frowned, though, looking down and back up when nothing happened.

Rowena looked just as shocked. She tried again, and still nothing happened.

"Right," Clara said, gaining more confidence. "Don't look so surprised. You're not the first mad Scottish woman I've dealt with." She held her hand out again. "The codex. Hand it over."

Rowena made a dash for the hallway, and Clara stumbled around Sam, following.

She caught up the witch in the main entrance, grabbing a gun sitting on the table – thank god for Winchester paranoia – and slid to a stop in front of Rowena.

"Drop it," she said, holding the gun up.

"You're not going to shoot me," Rowena sneered.

"You're right," Clara said. "But he might."

Rowena froze as she felt the barrel of a gun being pressed against the back of her head. She cursed, dropping the book and holding her hands up. "I've got to work on making that spell last longer."

"Yeah, maybe next time," Sam said. He reached up, pulling her wrists down and holding them behind her.

"Oh, tell me you're not taking me back to that damp old dungeon," Rowena complained as Sam pushed her towards the room. "It smells like daddy issues and testosterone. Have you got anything with a view?"

Sam ignored her, making her sit in the chair while he clasped the chains onto her wrists. She examined them, noticing the elaborate carvings in them, and sighed in annoyance.

"Where are you going?" she called as Sam started to leave. "You're just going to leave me here? Sam? Sam!"

Sam shut the door behind him, locking it and checking to make sure all the sigils were in place. Clara stood there, crossing her arms and frowning.

"Will that room hold her?" she asked.

"It held Crowley for a long time," Sam said. "Long story."

"How's your head?" Clara asked as they walked back towards the kitchen.

"I'll live. That was awesome back there, you know," he added. "Most people wouldn't do that. How'd you manage to dodge her magic?"

"I didn't," Clara shrugged, entering the kitchen, checking to see if the food was still hot. She placed it back in the oven to warm up. "It just – didn't work on me. Bounced off."

"Really?" Sam frowned. "I've never heard of that."

"What, is it bad?" Clara asked, frowning.

"It's probably nothing," Sam assured her. "But I'll look into it, just in case."

"Well," Clara said, sitting on the counter. Sam smiled and walked closer, and she slid her hands onto his shoulders. "You can do that later. After we eat. And . . ." She shrugged, grinning a bit. "In the morning."

Sam grinned, leaning down and kissing her.

Quick readers poll! Who do you guys want to see with Dean? Are you feeling any certain whovian character, or someone from his own world? Or are you guys going to go Destiel on my ass? Let me know in the comments!