Chapter 9.
Flashback.
Weeks pass by in a happy blur for Dean and Iris. The Winchesters only had to leave town once for a hunt. Dean had wrapped it up in record timing, slept for five hours and then had left to spend some time with Iris. Sam was giving him space, Dean wasn't really sure what he was thinking. But it's going well with Iris and at home so he decides things can go on like this for a little while longer.
He'd eaten a late lunch with Sam, so he showers and then heads out to find Iris and take her out for some supper and then maybe a movie on her bed...or other activities. They have supper at a cafe Iris likes, Dean thought it was only okay, but Iris was the one with the official day job so he lets her choose.
It's already late evening and dark outside by the time they're leaving and Iris has her arm through his, their fingers twined together. He feels happy and light and safe...and loved. Appreciated. Iris likes him, Iris needs him. Being needed has always been something Dean needed. He thrives on it, being what someone needs. That was where the whole hero/hunter thing came from.
Iris and Sam were teaching him that he meant more than just being needed by strangers to save their lives. That he was good enough to be needed by the people he loved and deserved to be loved back. God, they were making a good man out of him, a girl, but a good man too. And if the world didn't need saving he had no excuse to not be a good man.
So he slips into the impala and lets Iris hold his hand as they drive back to her house. She's in the kitchen popping popcorn and getting him a beer as he pulls the comforter back from the bed so they can get under the covers and untying his boots to slip them off. He's standing in the door in his socked feet watching her prepare their drinks and snacks when she glances up, her eyes serious.
"I may have a problem." She says simply.
"What kinda problem we talking about here?" He asks. "A warm and cuddly problem or our kind of problem?"
She smirks, "Normal problems aren't warm and cuddly, but yes, our kind of problem."
He tenses and walks into the kitchen to lean against the counter as she sprinkles seasoning onto the popcorn. "Okay, what you got?"
"It may be nothing." She cautions, not wanting to alarm him too much seeing the way he's tensing up and 'goodbye' to his current comfortable looseness.
"Okay, well what's your maybe-nothing-problem?" It's his turn to smirk, and she rolls her eyes.
"Okay, so you remember that book I bought at the auction a few weeks back?..."
"Yeah, the one you stole from me."
She shoots him another look. "You gave it to me. As I was saying...I notified my client nearly right away, but there was no contact until a few days ago. They wanted to meet at the shop, but something was off." She pauses what she's doing and turns around to lean against the counter beside him.
"Firstly, the whole business relationship was anonymous on their side. Which isn't unusual. But most of the time anonymous clients want their product left in a public spot where they'll pick it up after the bill is settled over the phone or Internet.
"They wanted to come here and examine the book and pay in person. That's what they specifically said 'in person'. I didn't like it, I said no that we would stick to our previous agreement, they would leave the payment at my bank after they picked up the book at the post office.
They weren't nice about it, said to forget it and that they'd get the book some other way." She shudders and leans closer towards Dean, her voice soft. "I thought they meant they'd just get the book from another buyer but it was just a few hours before there was a car down the road from the store."
Dean tenses again, knowing he'd been out of town. If anything bad had happened Iris would have been on her own. He glances nervously out the window even as she smiles up at him.
"Don't worry so hard, I'm fine, though I'm pretty sure I've been being followed."
Dean frowns and follows her into the bedroom with his beer in hand. She climbs up onto the bed with the bowl of popcorn in between her crossed legs. He drops down beside her on his stomach, letting the fizzy brew sting the inside of his mouth for a moment as he leans up on his elbows.
"So what makes this our kind of problem? I mean, of course I'll help you with any problem you got," he sends her a cheeky grin, and she slaps his arm smiling. "But what about this is of the paranormal?"
She sighs, "After I saw the car outside, I took the book off my shelves in my office and put it in the safe. I can't explain it but, when it was in my hands it just felt wrong, felt like it was compelling me to do something, you know it set off the spidey senses. As soon as I put it down it stopped."
"But it wasn't like that before, when we touched it at the auction." Dean says, sounding puzzled.
She nods, "And every time I've handled it or looked at it since then. But as soon as somebody showed up looking for it, it almost took on a life of its own. I mean, I'm warded against just about everything I can be but there were some weird air drafts and whispers today."
"Sounds fishy alright." He muses, he steals some popcorn from her, "Maybe whoever wanted it cast a location spell on it or something, so if you were touching it it was pulling you towards whoever was looking for it."
"I guess that could happen..." She says thoughtfully, "But," she smiles brightly at him. "I just wanted you to know just in case something does come of it."
He winks at her, "I got your back, baby." She smiles and and leans down to meet his upturned face for a kiss. She presses a hand to the side of his cheek and lets her thumb drift over his facial hair.
"Love your five o'clock shadow," she whispers, he chuckles and presses up into her lips for another dry kiss.
"We better stop while we're ahead if we're gonna watch this movie." He says, the timbre of his voice already dropping, causing a wave of goosebumps to wash over Iris.
"Okay," she whispers in agreement. He scoots up to lay beside her, and so he can access the popcorn bowl. She turns into him, setting the bowl on his stomach and laying her head on his shoulder, sighing deeply. He smiles and raises his arm to wrap around her shoulders, she sighs as she settles. Liking the nearly silent chuckle that rumbles from his chest.
She'd been admittedly scared. And Dean hadn't been in town. Now she's safe beside him, he's reassuring her and holding her in his arms. He gave her a wink and promised he'd be there, and now she just wants to relax and forget about her problems and enjoy being with Dean.
Dean feels the same way. He realizes now, while he loves being in a relationship how stressful it is. He has more to worry about now than just Sam. His hold on Iris tightens and he breathes in lungfuls of her sweet smelling hair, that perfume that had clung to the impala and ghosted it with her spirit. He'd nearly laughed when Sam had caught it and freaked out.
It's only been a few weeks but he would die before he gave her up, the fierce, protective love he finds in his heart actually scares him a little. When he realizes how she's stolen into his heart he has to smile and look down at her in awe of this person that has literally stolen his heart. He hadn't even realized that he loved her.
As the colors of the TV dance over their faces and the sounds wash over them Dean slips off into a peaceful sleep, head against hers, fingers lax against her side. Iris smiles from within his arms and revels in the feeling of his slow breaths rising and falling in his chest which she's resting her cheek on.
Dean rouses when the film ends and grunts as he stretches causing Iris to look up at him with a mischievous look on her face.
"That was a good movie, yeah?" He just nudges her with his elbow and she laughs.
"You gonna fault me for wanting to sleep with you while I can? Those few nights I was gone felt like years," hand drifts down her arm until he finds her hand and then let's her thread her fingers into his, squeezing.
"You're spoiling me for sleeping anywhere else," he says next, "I sleep the best when with you."
She laughs and shakes her head, before jumping up from the bed to stand looking down at him. "Well, c'mon, we better go get you some coffee, cause I had something else in mind besides just sleeping in bed."
"Iriiiiiiis," he objects, stretching again, looking up at her.
She grabs his hands and throws all her weight into dragging him off the bed, she grits her teeth with effort as Dean starts to slowly be pulled from the mattress. "Come on..." She grunts, the air pushing from her lungs with every pull, trying to get him off the bed.
He arches an eyebrow at her, watching her efforts with a laugh bubbling up in his throat. "What are you doing?" He asks fondly, then gives her one tug, bringing her falling over him. "Just give me a minute, okay?" She laughs and nods.
"Do you happen to have any ticklish spots?" She asks nonchalantly, fingers slowly dragging over him.
"That is something for me to know and for you to try and find out." He says, feeling now was a good time to rise before she tried to discover for herself.
She laughs from where she lies on the bed after he slipped out from under her in a flash. "I'll take that as a yes, that you're ticklish." She gets up and slips on her shoes as Dean laces his boots back up. "I guess I'll have to get up with Sam to learn all your ticklish spots and all the things that aggravate you."
"Mhm," he nods, "Wait. No, you two together will be the death of me, I'll just have to keep you away from him as long as possible so you don't corrupt each other."
She snorts handing him his jacket, grabbing a light sweater for herself, "C'mon," she takes his hand, and they slip out of the house. She locks the door, and then they head, hand and hand, down the street towards their coffee shop.
They're halfway there when she feels Dean tense next to her like a porcupine prickling up all its spikes. He stops in his tracks and she presses herself in a line to his side, he lets an arm fall around her shoulders and pull her close.
"What is it?" She asks low, almost a whisper.
"Someone's tailing us." He murmurs. She tenses and he passes a calming hand down her arm. "They're behind me," he says, breath hot on her ear. Iris standing pressed against him is standing slightly to the side, her arm slinking around his waist.
She lays her head on his shoulder, making it look like they were hugging. Her eyes fly over the street and houses behind Dean picking up on the dark shadow of a man beside one of the old houses.
"I see him," she says, not making any sudden movements to give them away.
"Okay," Dean breathes, "My gun is in my waist band," he must feel her quicker breath, because the arm around her shoulders tightens and his hand gives her another reassuring rub. "Wrap your other arm around my neck. Pull out the gun, cock it and hold it on him, okay? It's gonna have to be fast."
She snorts, "Just because I don't hunt anymore, doesn't mean I don't practice." She feels his smirk against her cheek.
"Okay, you ready?" She nods, and then does it.
Dean's colt leaves his waistband lightening fast, his ears barely even pick up on the clicking sound of it being cocked. He barely even felt Iris's other arm wrap around his neck, but now she stands with one arm, against his side under his arm and the other over his shoulder. He blinks in surprise.
Iris stands, both hands on the pistol after cocking it. She levels it cooly at the head of the man across the street from them.
"We see you," she says loud enough for him to hear.
She holds the gun steady in one hand as she unwraps her arm from around Dean's neck and steps away from him so he can turn around. She feels her adrenaline and excitement vamp up at the way the street lights sparkle in the hard, coldness of his eyes. She brings her other hand back up to the gun, training it on the man relentlessly.
Dean lights his eyes on the man across the street and can see he's a big guy. He also knows he can't take the chances of Iris getting hurt, especially since she's the one holding the gun on him.
"Walk away," he demands, in a threatening voice, the deep, hardness of it rumbling in his chest and Iris feels a shiver run down her spine. She can see him hesitate even from her place across the street and then he turns and disappears into the night. Iris sighs in relief and turns to smile at Dean's pinched expression.
"C'mon," is all he says. She lets him have the gun back and he wraps his free arm back around her shoulders, turning them back the way they came. She's never seen him so concentrated or so serious. She has to take two steps for his every one, she actually shivers a little at the stoniness of his expression.
When they come in sight of the impala sitting in front of her house he pulls her into a quicker pace by her arm. "Where is the book now?" He asks.
"At the shop in my safe." She answers, looking up at him, trying to catch what he's thinking.
"Okay," he says, his face relaxing a little. "Why don't you just come home with me tonight?" He asks, pulling out his keys and unlocking the passenger door and standing beside it.
"To the bunker?" She asks in disbelief, and then her face lights up in a smile, "Yeah! Let's go."
He smiles at her enthusiasm, and shuts the door behind her as she slips into the impala. He keeps careful watch all around for the tell tale silhouette of their stalker. "I hope Sam's in bed," he mumbles.
As he opens his door and sits he catches sight of movement in the corner of his eye. The impala is cranked and skidding into a start before his door is all the way shut. The rumble of her engine isn't enough to cover the sound of three rapidly fired gunshots. Thankfully none of them hit their mark.
"Oh, c'mon!" Dean shouts, looking over his shoulder. "Leave Baby outta this!" Iris laughs even as she looks behind them, to watch the dark silhouette of a man disappear into the night.
"Is he gone?" Dean asks.
"Yeah, he's gone back down the street. I can't see him anymore." She responds, turning around and making herself comfortable in the seat. She grins at him, thankful to see the seriousness finally leaving his expression.
"Okay, that was pretty awesome," he said, thinking back to Iris's arms around him, strong and sure while holding the gun.
"Told you I wasn't out of practice." She smirks, unconsciously going on a quest to find his hand where she knows it's waiting for hers upturned on Baby's seat.
"No ma'am, you aren't." She laughs, squeezing his fingers and he returns the favor.
They're both still high on adrenaline and the rush of adventure when Dean pulls up in front of the bunker. Iris gets out and wraps her sweater a little tighter around her.
"Whoa...spooky." She says, he smiles and takes her hand again, carefully leading her down the dark steps and inserts the key, unlocking the door and leading her in after him. He shuts the door as quietly as he can and locks it again.
"Wow," she whispers, looking down from the top of the stairs into the map room and the library.
Dean joins her and smiles at the surprised expression on her face. She shoots him a bright smile and allows him to pull her down the steps and into the library.
"Imma go see what Sammy's up to," he says. "If he's awake, we'll have this very awkward introduction now, and if he's asleep I'll just sneak you in like a naughty teenager."
She laughs and waves him off. He disappears down a hall. She runs fingertips down the sleek, worn wood of the desks, and she likes the picture two laptops sitting opposite each other paints. She smiles at the whiskey canisters and glasses on one of the shelves. Remembering how at almost her first glance of Dean, she'd thought he'd look so hot sipping on something stronger than coffee.
She hears footsteps coming down the hall and is preparing herself for the great Sam Winchester when only Dean shows. He's grinning childishly and looking relieved, which probably meant Sam was asleep.
"Sam's already in bed, so it looks like it's just you and me baby."
"Alright," she says, taking his outstretched hand.
"Hold on now," he says smirking. "Sam's in bed, but he's pretty restless which means he's gonna hear everything. Including your foots steps."
She frowns, "I'll tiptoe, really Dean this place is huge there's no way he'll be able to hear me."
"Sam is a hunter," Dean says, pulling her to him, "The best damn hunter I know." He smirks, "Well, except for me. But that's beside the point. He will hear you, Iris. So get on my back."
She rolls her eyes and tilts her head to start and argue. He bends just in time to stop her words with a kiss. His tongue fire hot on her lips for a moment stealing her breath away as she closes her eyes. He draws back almost immediately. She finds herself swaying forward to find him but she opens her eyes when he chuckles.
"Sh," he presses again, "He'll hear you." She smiles and sighs, shaking her head.
He motions for her to jump on his back so she finally gives up and using her hands on his strong shoulders jumps onto his back and wraps her legs around his waist. He uses hands on her thighs to hold her farther up so she won't fall.
She presses her face into his jacket between his shoulder blades to muffle her giggles.
"Shut up," he says, turning his head to glance at her. "You're gonna make me laugh too."
She just shakes her head and continues to laugh all the way to his room. When he finally makes it to his room he shuts the door behind him, then drops her on his mattress.
"Remind me to never go on any secret missions with you," he says, smiling ruefully at her flushed face and still smiling lips.
She rises to her knees and shuffles until she's in front of him. Grabbing his coat lapels she drags him against her, one arm snaking around his neck, the other gripping his coat collar. Dean closes his eyes as she kisses him. Starting off soft, but then licking into his mouth with those little moans that were always the ruin of him. It's when he feels her teeth pull on his bottom lip before she starts breathing hot, wet kisses to his neck that he realizes where this is going.
He pulls away from her with a soft groan of his own. Hands running over her hair and coming to cup her cheeks. "Sam. Will. Hear." He reiterates.
She slips her hands up his shirt, her touch branding hot against the smooth skin of his chest as she explores. "Are you really not gonna make love to me the first time you brought me home because your brother MIGHT hear?" She asks, spit slick lips hot against his ear.
That breaks his resolve. Hands grip the sides of her head roughly, holding her still so he can invade her mouth, make it his again, map out the known expanse of it all over again. He has to wash away the fear he had felt out on that street. The fear that she'd be stolen from him all too soon. The feeling of powerlessness, no way to stop it, no way to save her.
He feels her fingernails scratching just this side of painful down his sides, and his hands leave her head to grab her hands and raise them over her head in order to strip her shirt off.
"Hey," she whispers against his lips. She grabs his hands and pushes him away for the edge of the bed so she can stand. "I'm right here," she reassures. "I'm not going anywhere." She reiterates, slipping off her shoes.
Achingly slow she takes a few steps away from him and grabs the hem of her own shirt pulling it off and over her head. She could drown in his heated gaze and the way his eyes darken so there's only a thin line of green left. Deft fingers unzip the skirt from her hips letting it fall to the floor, exposing thigh-high socks and black lace panties matching the bra she's wearing.
She reaches up, pulling out several Bobby-pins that are keeping her curls from her face and then walks back towards him. Dean watches her, more than just lust reflecting in his glistening eyes. There's awe and love there looking down on her; he can't believe that she's his.
She pushes his jacket off his shoulders and then he takes over from there. He strips out of the jacket and plaid over-shirt, taking off the t-shirt and kicking off his boots. He slips a hand to the side of her face, thumb grazing over her cheek bone, palm and other fingers against her neck and in her hair.
He leans down and kisses her lips gently, lips grazing across her cheek to her ear, distracting her. His hands slip to her waist and he pushes her to the mattress. She lets out a supposed 'oomph' but goes willingly, laying looking up at him with shining eyes. Shaking a little in expectation of what he's about to do.
He growls deep in his chest at the sight of all that creamy skin laid out glowing in the low lamp light. Hands starting at socked feet, they drift up her legs. She spreads them, making enough room for him to kneel in between them. He hovers over her, eyes meeting hers, and she shivers at the intensity in his gaze.
Hands leave her thighs, where they had been caressing the silky softness. He falls forward on them, lowering himself to engage her in a hot, messy kiss more tongue and teeth than lips. Her arms wrap around his shoulders using the leverage to rock up into him, causing him to growl again.
In a flash she finds herself flat against the mattress again, arms wrenched from around his neck and stretched far above her head held down by one of his big hands. She gasps at the feeling of Dean pressing open mouthed kisses to her neck and down her chest, over to her stomach. She looks down to find him leaving trails of reddish purple bruises behind him.
She arches up into him at the feeling of his teeth scraping over her hip bone, sucking what felt like a permanent hickey into the white skin. "Oh my god, Dean," she gasps out.
He comes back over her, grinning devilishly, pressing a kiss to her lips, letting their tongues play for a moment. "Sh," he breathes against her ear. "Sam will hear."
He releases her hands and reaches under her undoing the latch of her bra. She moves quicker than him, slipping it off and tossing it to the floor somewhere. He blinks up in sunrise at her when she flips them and straddles his legs. His eyes roll back into his head with a loud groan as she rocks her ass into his lap.
"Sh," she whispers, tongue licking around the shell of his ear, "Sam will hear."
She giggles as he growls again and rolls them over, hands starting at her waist and groping soft, creamy skin. She closes her eyes in bliss, feeling her body writhing under him on its own accord, everything far out of her control now. She loves how it's all up to Dean, how Dean loves to reduce her to this whimpering mess.
She does whimper when his hand stretches her arms above her again, stretching her out in one tantalizing line. He loves the desperate sounds she makes as he tastes every inch of her skin. The way she gasps as he licks wetly across skin just to blow cool air over it, causing her to tremble and plead with him to just hurry up and give her what she needs.
He chuckles deep in his throat, fingers stealing under the lacy material of her underwear to caress the soft skin of the juncture of her hip. "Patience baby," he whispers against her lips, even as she closes her eyes moaning beautifully at the feeling of what his fingers are doing.
"Imma take care of you," he whispers.
Dean makes slow, careful, gentle love to her. Biting her shoulder at the feeling of her silky, velvet heat surrounding him. She takes care of him just as lovingly in her own way. Holding him as he comes down, kissing reassurance and proof of life to his skin. He smiles gently as he wipes the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes away with his thumbs.
"How'd I get so lucky?" He asks, a little slurred. She smiles into the lazy kiss he's currently branding her mouth with.
"You'd better go to sleep before you say something you regret." She says, smiling. Knowing Dean's next words would be slurred with sleep and satisfaction and might not ring as true as she wanted them to. She lives for the day the words 'I love you' falls from Dean Winchester's lips, but now was not the time.
They fall asleep wrapped up in each other, all hot, tangled skin and limbs. The night and it's scare forgotten in the afterglow of the best sex either of them had ever had. Tomorrow and all their problems will still be there when they wake up. Dean pulls her as close as she can get, hands pressed to smooth, hot skin. She lets herself be held and treasured like she hadn't been since her family died. She buries her face in his neck, safe and hidden from the world.
...
Present Day.
Sam jumps forward mostly on instinct and drives a powerful kick into the Styne's ribs. There's a sickening crack they all hear, and the tall, blonde man roars in pain and outrage. The intended boot to Dean's neck goes off target and he grabs it twisting it grotesquely to the side until there's a pop and their enemy screams again. Dean uses his foot to pull him off balance and he goes plunging to the floor.
In between wheezed-out curses blood bubbles out from the Styne's mouth and down his chin.
"You bastard!" He yells at Sam, "You punctured a lung!" Dean is heaving himself off the ground and Sam is swiftly pulling his gun from the back of his pants to train it on the man on the floor.
Dean grabs Iris by both arms and heaves her from the floor where the jerks to her long hair had left her. She's shaking from adrenaline and fear but otherwise fine. She gives him a trembling smile. "You okay, baby?" He asks, softly. She nods and he pulls her firmly against his side.
It takes everyone by surprise. The Styne jumps to his feet and makes for the door. Sam lets loose three bullets all of which miss and embed themselves in Iris's walls thanks to the way the large man if weaving and almost falls. Sam drops the gun and sprints after him, grabbing his arm just as he rounds the corner into the foyer. They fall to the floor in the small space amongst the ruins of Iris's front door.
It's a quick, brutal fight. Before Dean can even get there Sam lands a knee in the Styne's already busted ribs, driving the punctures further into his lungs. Dean sees the Styne's fingers scrambling to find anything to defend himself against the long line of muscle that made up his little brother. The man's bloody fingers close around a giant splinter from the door he'd busted in and drives the long, pointed shard into Sam's thigh. Sam lets out a grunt and falls back, head hitting sharply against the door jam. The Styne shakily getting to his feet and making his get away in a stumbling run.
Dean is by his brother's side in an instant, eyes wide at the piece of wood buried in Sam's leg, blood bubbling up around it and dripping onto Iris's floor. His hands hover for a moment, then his eyes meet Sam's. He can see the pain and fear there, but also the trust.
"Dean," he gasps out, like a prayer and a solution all at once.
"Okay, okay, Sammy," he gushes, hands pressed around the piece of wood somehow hoping to keep the blood from flowing out.
Iris appears beside him on her knees with some towels. He takes them and insulates them around the wound the best he can. "We gotta get out of here," he tells her. "Open the impala's back door." He fishes the keys out of his pocket and hands them to her. He wraps an arm around Sam's shoulders, his brother's hands fisted in his shirt.
"Okay, up we get," he gasps out, toting Sam up with.
Sam gasps, as he puts weight on his leg, blood dripping from his hair from a head wound. He's limp and a dead weight in Dean's arms in the blink of an eye. Dean grunts under the extra weight, but manages to slip his arm under his little brother's knees. He lifts up breathing heavy, "Hey little brother, you with me?"
Sam grunts, and Dean feels him tense even more.
"Alright, alright, I gotcha," he whispers, walking quickly to the impala, leaning Sam's weight against the car for a moment before somehow pushing him into the backseat. Iris slips in and Dean lays Sam's head in her lap.
Dean closes the door and jumps into the driver's seat cranking Baby up. Sam stirs as the car rumbles to life and opens his eyes to mere slits.
"Oh god," he groans, "My head." Iris threads fingers into his shaggy locks to find the source of the bleeding.
"Is it bad?" Dean asks, looking in the rearview mirror.
"No, just shallow. Leg's still bleeding pretty good though." She supplies, using her hand to pressurize as much as she can around the wound.
Dean purses his lips in the front seat. "Stay with me Sammy," and Iris catches the desperate tone his voice, knows Dean is busy blaming himself for his little brother's hurt. "I'm gonna get you home and take care of that leg, okay?"
Sam smiles even as he grits his teeth, "I know, I'm not going anywhere, at least I'm trying."
"Trying?" Dean asks, sounding mock angry, drawing Sam out for conversation to keep him awake.
"You try staying awake with a hit to the head and your life's blood flowing away." He retorts, words slurring together even as he speaks.
Dean looks back into the rearview mirror anxiously. "I'm trying my best too," Iris supplies, leaning forward and trying to at least slow the bleeding.
"Yeah Dean," Sam says, "We're trying our best. Very hard driving up there?"
"Yeah Dean," Iris joins in, "Why don't you come back here and do some of the heavy work? I know the way to the bunker."
He shoots her a stabbing glare in the mirror making her laugh, but she frowns finding Sam making a confused expression looking up at her.
"I knew I saw a girl in Dean's bed. It was you."
"Yeah," she says, smiling, "I pretended to be asleep."
"Told you she was there, Dean," he grumbles, eyes drifting closer to shut.
"Yeah, you called it little brother." Dean says smiling.
"I still want to hear why you didn't tell me before you invited her in," he grumbles on, "But this time please without all the...details."
"And you owe me one," he adds, hazily.
Dean laughs and nods, "Deal."
He goes lax against Iris, his head lolling to one side, whereas he had been holding it so he could see the back of his big brother's head while he was driving.
"Sam?" she calls, patting his plaid-clad chest gently.
Dean's eyes jump up to the mirror, "Sammy?" He calls.
"Sam!" He demands.
Dean and Iris's eyes meet, she sees hope and fear and so much, raw, deep love reflected there. She feels so powerless and useless when all she can do is helplessly shake her head.
tbc...
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