The snow was falling heavier now, big sheets of it full of fat flakes that melted as soon as they hit the skin. It was cold, very cold, but Dean couldn't care when he felt warm and loose. There was a fire in his belly that seemed to spread to the very tips of his fingers. He didn't know if it was because he was drunk still or because he had just kissed a very pretty girl, but it was regardless a good feeling.

They walked to her motel, chatting idly about how crap late night TV was and how ridiculous late night hosts were. He liked Conan but she couldn't stand him, preferring Jimmy Fallon. It sparked an argument that went on for long minutes, until he saw the sign to Snelling's and knew they had reached their destination.

She looked gorgeous in the snow. He watched as flakes would catch on her hair, hanging icy for a moment before they melted, making dew drops in the long blonde strands of it. She looked snug in her modified winter wear—a hunter couldn't exactly wear a down parka if they wanted to stay alive—and dangerous, somewhat imposing. She wasn't wearing a dress or anything, but she definitely looked like the woman she was, tall with undeniable curves, even beneath her layers. It made his palms itch. She was intriguing, Ali was, and while he still wasn't sure he could entirely trust her, he still meant what he had told her earlier.

This just wasn't the life she should be leading. She shouldn't have been almost killed by a vampire tonight. She shouldn't have been covered in blood for her efforts. He was by no means sexist—women could do the job just as well, if not better in some areas—but he didn't want this for her. He didn't want her to come to the inevitable bloody end. She could have so much better. He and Sam were in this and there was no getting out. Their mom had been killed, starting them on this whole track, and their dad had been too now. There was no going back. There was no turning away—not when your family's lives hung in the balance. And he got it, he did. She wanted to avenge her own family too. He knew how it felt to need that, want that, to have that be the only thing that made your life make sense.

But she wasn't in this like they were. She could get out.

He and Sam were on the trail of the bastard that had taken their parents from them. They had seen it. They had almost killed it. They could have, too, but he had begged Sam not to, begged through the blood in his mouth, his life slowly ticking away with each beat of his beleaguered heart. Did he regret it? Absolutely. More than he could even begin to explain. Would he change it? Never. He had been trying to protect his father, the man he had looked up to his whole life. He had been trying to keep his family whole. But Ali… Her family was already gone and had been for over ten years. The trail was cold. His father hadn't been able to catch a whiff of the thing and John Winchester was irrefutably one of the best in the business. He wasn't doubting her tenacity or perseverance—he knew the fervor of the fire that drove her—but the odds were stacked against her.

So why not get out? Why not try to live a normal life? He could see her in a house with a smiling husband and some rugrats. Happy, normal. Driving to work in her pretty little car. Maybe a teacher or a secretary. Hell, maybe the head of a multimillion dollar company or a baker or something. Anything other than a transient, a hustler, a hunter.

The sign for her stupid little motel—seriously? Snelling's?—rose up and she turned to him, smiling gorgeously. Dean was a sucker for smiles, he'd admit it. When a woman hit him with a good one, he was just gone, all warm and slightly fuzzy. There were few things sexier than a really killer smile and Ali's? Well, Ali's was one of the best.

"Ready to get out of the cold for at least a minute, hot stuff? I know you're manly and all but I'm sure you'd like to thaw out a bit."

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." He passed it off brusquely, even as he grinned to one side. He liked the little verbal spars they had. He liked that she was mouthy and loud and came on all strong. He liked that about her. A lot more than he might care to admit.

They ascended the stairs to the second level and she let them into her room, flicking the lights on before the door closed, effectively shutting out the cold and the snow beyond. Dean walked into the room, checking it out none too subtly. It was a nice place, even homey in an older, 1970s kind of way. Or maybe he thought it was homey because places with decor like this—all old paintings and worn sheets—had been his home growing up.

Not caring to think about that much more, he turned to where she still stood by the door and nodded discreetly.

"It ain't half bad, I guess."

"Thanks." Ali laughed lightly and followed him deeper into the room, shedding her brown coat on the chair beside the large, single bed in the room.

Dean wasn't used to those. For most of his life, he'd lived in a crappy motel room with his dad and his brother, he and Sam crammed into one bed together, Dad in the other. For most of his life, he had fallen asleep to the sound of the two most important people in his life breathing in his ear. When he, rarely, had been on a hunt on his own, having the single bed in the room had been strange in an entirely unpleasant way. It felt too small, too cramped, and if he hadn't worn himself out with research or killing some dick of a creature, he'd go to a bar and meet a girl and bring her back, if only so he could have someone breathing there beside him when he finally could sleep at night.

He watched Ali fold her coat over the back of the chair, watched the way the gray sweater she wore clung to her figure, revealing those curves. He liked that she wasn't all skin and bone, he liked that she had some meat to her. Yeah, she might have been thin and pretty, but she was strong, he knew that, and it made his throat go slightly tight. There was an element of the dangerous here and he liked that, he appreciated that. More than he might care to admit. He had the hots for her and he knew where this was headed…

But she and Sam had also tangoed underneath the sheets and he didn't know how Sam would take him sleeping with Ali too.

As far as Dean was concerned, sex was sex and it didn't really bother him that Ali had already been with his brother. If anything it was…kind of hot? What he was worried about was how Sammy would take it. The two of them had never exactly shared a girl considering their age difference and different tastes. Obviously, Ali had some overlap. And Sam had…emotions, to say the least. He couldn't ever just think of it as one night, a chance to get away and stop thinking for a while. No, never that. He couldn't just blow off steam and have a good time and move on to the next town. No, it had to all mean something and that was all well and good at times but sometimes…most times…it was good to just have a little fun.

So why shouldn't he?

They were going to roll out soon anyhow, onto the next city, the next case, the next monster, the next hunt. Why not have a little fun? Ali understood, he knew that. Why else would she have kissed him? She got it. She understood their own mortality—for fuck's sake, she'd about died that night and would have if he hadn't saved her ass. So why not? Why not have some fun? They'd blow this joint tomorrow and no one would be the wiser.

So, he came up behind her, hands sliding over her hips, his mouth nuzzling into her ear. And he knew she was okay with it, that she understood it was the drinking and the near death and the fun that drove him because she leaned back into him, pliant. Willing.

Dean tightened his hold on her, mouth finding hers from behind. Lips met, tongues probed, and he tasted the alcohol there again before she turned in his hold, hands coming up to his face, small but hardly delicate. He held her closer, arms wrapping about her, struck as always by just how small women were and how he never realized just how tall he really was until he was alone and away from Sam the ginormous.

She pushed his coat from his shoulders as they stumbled backward. Ali was in control now and he didn't mind it, he didn't mind it one bit. It was a heady feeling, giving up the power he so tightly held onto. He could be somewhat vulnerable here, he could let his guard down. He could just be so maybe he liked that feeling just as much as the sex because it was a whole other kind of release.

His legs hit the bed and then his back and she stood watching him, grinning like a lioness who had just felled her prey. It made goosebumps erupt into being on his skin, and that was before she slowly slunk closer, knees pressing into the bed on either side of his hips as she straddled him. His hands ran up beneath her sweater, palms catching slightly on the shirt she wore beneath. She smiled, long and slow, before her sweater was on the floor and she was wearing a thin, long-sleeved black shirt that made the curve of her breasts and the beginning of her hips all the more apparent. He sighed through his teeth, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the thin cotton.

Ali bent low, lips skittering over his skin, making his heart pump slightly faster. Not in control here, not here, giving it all up. Giving, giving, giving. It was about her, it was always about the woman, because for however long they were together he could forget everything else and that was what he wanted, needed, craved so why not glorify her? Why not her adore her with faculties of lips and hands and every part of him he could give?

Mouths caught, held, as his hands flexed on her hips, hard, before he remembered himself and loosened his hold. He was aching, for her, for this, for everything. He wanted it, God, did he want it. Her.

But…

Unbidden, he remembered Ali and his brother together outside the diner, laughing in the cold, cozy and comfy as any normal couple. He remembered how happy Sam had been, how he hadn't really gotten out and about with girls since his girlfriend had been burned to a crisp on the ceiling, just like their mom had been. He remembered how Sam had smiled and laughed and he literally felt the wind go out of his sails.

Dean's hands fell from her, hitting the bed with a flop. He turned, looking away from Ali, hating himself for this, loathing himself, but knowing it would be worse, much worse, if he didn't. He looked out for his little brother, he protected him. Even if he was protecting Sam from himself, the last person he should have to.

"I can't do this," he whispered, not looking at her, unable to look at her. He still wanted to run his hands over her lovely, soft skin. He still wanted to bury himself in her and lose himself, at least for a while. He wanted to make the darkness his home and never have to see the light, at least for this night.

"Wha—What?"

Dean turned to look at her then, to see her face flushed and her blonde hair awry. She was looking at him with such confusion that he reached up, thumb brushing across her cheek, the smile he returned crooked.

"I can't do this. I can't do this to Sam."

"Sam?" She leaned back, frowning, and he noticed that the neck of her shirt was awry, revealing the curve of her shoulder and the protrusion of her collarbone. He had to lick his lips and remind himself he was saying no. And why.

"Yeah…" Dean laughed softly and then moved so he was sitting upright. Less dangerous. Less temptation. Ali followed but she didn't fix her shirt—she either didn't notice or she didn't care—and he wish he could tell her to because it was so damn distracting. "The kid's my brother, you know? And I don't wanna hurt him."

"Hurt him? How is this going to hurt him?" She frowned again and was still beautiful for it. God help him.

"Because…Sammy doesn't exactly see sex as just sex. Well, he does but it's different for him. It means more. You know? And I don't want to hurt him because of something I think is nice but…at the end of the day…"

"Doesn't mean much," she finished flatly.

"Well…yeah."

Dean rubbed the back of his head, watching her somewhat apprehensively. He knew just from being around her the last few days that the girl could pack a whallop. She was watching him with narrowed eyes, the hazel of them seeming to be glowing with her anger. Yeah, he'd been right to feel uncomfortable about this, especially because she was looking at him like she wanted to skin him right then and there.

She stood suddenly, tall, slim, heat brought to her cheeks for an entirely different reason now. She looked tousled and irate and about ready to kick his ass, even with her shirt pulled all askew. Even when he could still feel her lips on his own and on his skin.

"Get out," she hissed. "Get out now before I grab my fucking gun and shoot you, you ass."

"Okay." He stood, hands extended slightly in surrender. "I'm just—"

"I know what you're doing and I want nothing to do with it. Nothing to do with either of you. Now get out. Now!"

Dean nodded, not exactly wanting to argue. He scooped up his coat hastily and threw it on, peeking over his shoulder to see her standing there, fuming, arms crossed over her chest, obviously making sure he was doing as he was told.

"It's not that I don't want to—" he decided to add before a pillow went whirling past his head.

"Get out before I hit you with something harder," she snarled.

"All right, all right, I'm going, I'm going. No need to get your panties in a twist."

Her heard her muffled scream of rage before he was out the door, slamming it behind him, checking the landing beyond for any passerby. Clear. Thank God. No one wanted to get caught getting thrown out from some chick's place. Dean pulled the collar of his coat up against his neck to ward off the cold and descended the stairs to walk back to his own motel.

Ali may have been mad, pissed as a cat dropped in a tub of water even, but he felt like he had made the best move here. He may have wanted and wanted her bad but, at the end of the day, Sam was his brother, the only family he had left, and he wasn't going to fuck that up. Not for anyone, no matter how great a night they might have had together.

Still, as he hit the sidewalk, he glanced back at the motel, at the room where the light was now on. He sighed, head shaking as he continued on.

"Goodbye, Ali Russell. See ya around."