The shrill ringing of his cell phone woke Dean the next morning. He reached blindly for it, his fingers knocking over a half-empty Mountain Dew bottle from the night before. It fell onto its side and rolled a few inches away. His fingers bumped against it a few more times before they found the phone. Picking it up, he pressed 'ok' and held it to his ear.

"'Lo?" he whispered sleepily.

"Where are you?" Sam asked on the other end.

Dean groaned. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"It's six thirty. Where are you?"

"Evansville."

Yawning, Charlie stretched her right arm out in front of her before snuggling deeper into Dean's side. "Who's that?" she asked against his chest.

He curled his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. "It's just Sam," he answered softly. "Go back to sleep." To his brother he said, "We'll be on the road in an hour or so. Where are we meeting?"

"Dude, tell me that wasn't Charlie," Sam said.

"Shut up," Dean replied.

"Hey, it's your ass, brother."

"You're one to talk. At least Charlie's human. Speaking of which, how's that lip of yours?"

"Hurts like a bitch," Sam laughed then bit back a moan of pain. "Ribs aren't much better. Thanks for that."

"You deserved it. Where'd you say we're meeting?"

"We're in Adams, Tennessee."

"What's in Adams? What happened to going to Florida, Cassadaga or wherever it was?"

"Bell Witch Cave. I'll fill you in when you get here."

Dean hung up a few minutes later and tossed his phone onto the other bed. He was wide awake now, any hope of falling back asleep long gone. According to Sam, they were only a few hours away from Adams. If they were going to make it before noon, they would need to get on the road soon.

He turned his nose into Charlie's hair and sighed. She smelled good, she felt good and she'd been through hell. And she'd done it alone. Dean's arms tightened around her reflexively.

Propping her chin up on his chest, Charlie looked up at Dean with heavy lidded eyes. "Hey," she smiled.

"Hey yourself," he replied before pushing her hair behind her ear. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I think I am. I mean, I'm still afraid of what might happen, but the other stuff? I carried it around so long it feels pretty good to let it go."

Charlie hadn't realized until last night just how much keeping it all in had taken out of her. This morning, she felt lighter and happier than she had in a long time. Sure, Aaron was still a problem of potentially epic proportions but now she didn't feel as though she had to shoulder that worry alone. Wrapped in Dean's arms in the quiet of the morning, she felt protected. She felt safe.

"Why me?" he asked as he stared into her eyes. When she looked away, he placed a hand on her cheek and turned her face back to his. "I wouldn't exactly call us friends, Charlie. So why tell me?"

She bit her lip and answered truthfully, "Because I trust you."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. It seemed like an awful lot of people had been putting a lot of trust in him lately and the look in Charlie's eyes at that moment was more humbling than being delivered from Hell on the orders of God himself. Suddenly overcome by unfamiliar emotion, Dean mumbled that he needed to take a leak and disappeared into the bathroom.

Behind the closed door, he leaned on the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Jesus, what was happening to him? He was on the verge of hyperventilating and all because someone had put their trust in him? He knew there was a lot more to it than that, he'd be lying to himself if he tried to tell himself different. But she was Bobby's daughter. She'd been raped for fuck's sake. He couldn't touch her the way his body was screaming at him to, he wouldn't. She deserved better. God help him, but he wanted her. He wanted her like he wanted to keep on breathing.

Angry with himself, Dean pushed away from the sink and wrenched on the shower faucet. He shed his clothes quickly and stepped under the icy spray. He stayed there as long as he could stand it, hoping it would cool his mounting attraction to the half-naked woman in his bed. Unbidden, memories of how she'd looked back in Leadville rose up in his mind, naked and flushed with sleep, hair a mess and her eyes glued to his cock. Groaning, Dean turned the heat up on the water before reaching for his throbbing erection.

"I'm going to hell," he mumbled before he began jacking himself off.

In the bedroom, confusion knitted Charlie's brow as she sat up in the bed, perplexed by Dean's odd behavior. For a moment, she'd been positive he was going to kiss her and then he'd just jumped up and made a B-line for the bathroom. Was it because of what she'd told him the night before? Had she made a mistake in telling him about what had really happened between Aaron and herself? Damn, she just didn't understand him. Determined to get some answers, she threw back the covers, marched across the motel room and pounded on the door.

"What the hell is your problem?" she shouted. When Dean didn't respond, she called his name. He still didn't answer. Instead, she heard the shower come on. "Oh no you don't," she muttered, realizing he wasn't going to answer her. Charlie tested the doorknob and wasn't surprised to find it locked. Yeah right, as if that would stop her from getting inside. She rummaged through his bag until she found his pick kit. A twist or two later and the lock sprung free. She shoved the door open hard causing it to bounce on its hinges.

"Jesus Christ!" Dean shouted in alarm from behind the shower curtain. "What the fuck, Charlie?!"

"What the fuck, Dean?" she countered as she ripped the curtain back. She'd seen him naked before but not like this. Water was cascading down his chest and torso in fat rivulets drawing her attention to the thick muscles there. Her eyes went as wide as saucers when she saw his erect cock fisted in his right hand. "Oh," she whispered hoarsely. Mary, Joseph and all the shepherds, the man had a beautiful body but his dick was a work of freaking art. He was long and thick and very, very hard. She was reaching for him before she realized it.

Dean took a step back, holding out a hand towards her. "Get outta here, Charlie," he managed.

Planting her hand on his chest instead, Charlie gave him a good shove. His back hit the cold shower tile and he hissed. "I'm serious, Charlie. Get the fuck out of here."

Smiling mischievously, she said, "Make me," before pulling her over-sized tee shirt over her head and stepping into the shower with him. She was on her knees a second later. Any thought Dean had of forcing her to leave fled his mind with the first swipe of her tongue along his engorged flesh.

Looking up into his eyes, Charlie was surprised by the pained expression on his face. "You don't have to do this," he whispered.

"I'm not made of glass, Dean. I want this. I want you," she assured him.

When her mouth closed around him, he groaned and buried one of his hands in her hair, the other found hers and threaded their fingers together. Oh God, how long had it been since someone had touched him, loved him like this? The feel of her tongue, the sweet suction of her mouth, the twisting of her palm, it was fucking amazing but it was too much. He didn't want to come in her mouth. He wanted to come in her.

He tugged at her hair. "Charlie," he breathed. "Charlie, stop."

She released him with a soft 'pop' and asked, "Why?"

His answer was to jerk her roughly to her feet before stepping out of the shower and slamming her against the bathroom wall. Dean swallowed her gasp of surprise with his mouth, slanting it over hers and delving deep, taking everything she had to give with one, fiery, consuming kiss. One of his hands found her thigh while the other palmed her ass before he hoisted her up, positioning himself at her entrance.

Their eyes met and she could see the question in his. Nodding, she said, "Now." Charlie screamed his name as he buried himself within her in a single smooth stroke. She locked her legs around his hips before breathing the word 'more' against his lips. With every kiss, with every thrust of his hips, Dean was washing away the memory of that night. He made love with every part of himself, with his lips, tongue, mouth, eyes, with every beautiful inch. Charlie held on tight, riding him, meeting him stroke for stroke as their bodies strained against one another. When the tide broke, she road the crest until she came with a shuddering draining climax, screaming "Dean!" a second time.

"Fuck," Dean ground out between his clenched teeth as her body clenched down around him. His legs were turning to Jell-O and the muscles of his ass were burning from the effort it took to hold them both up but he didn't want to move for fear of losing this feeling. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt. She was unlike anyone he'd ever been with. He couldn't remember anything more beautiful as Charlie's face in the throws of orgasm. Her kiss-swollen lips were parted as she panted, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were dilated and glassy. But it was the single, fat tear sliding down her cheek that did him in, shoving Dean over the edge with her.

"Fuck, fuck, shit. Oh, fuck. Charlie…gonna come…" he grunted as his own orgasm tore through his body and poured itself into hers.

Their post-coital bliss quickly turned to hilarity as Dean's legs finally gave out and they both came crashing to the bathroom floor. Charlie landed on his chest and Dean took an elbow to his eyebrow in process. Naked, wet and laughing they held onto each other until the humor wore off and they were left with the uncomfortable, unspoken question of what next.

Looking down into his green eyes, Charlie bit her lip. She didn't regret being with him, she couldn't. It had been the most incredible sex of her life but she'd entered into dangerous territory. Her dad hadn't made it a secret how he felt about the prospect of her being with Dean and the last thing she wanted to do was come between them. Especially not now, not when there was so much at stake. Could she play the cold hearted bitch and push him away? He reached up with both hands and after pushing her hair away from her face pulled her down for a deep, probing kiss. No, she couldn't do that to him. He'd said they weren't friends and he'd been right. They were something deeper, more elemental than mere friends. No, she couldn't let him go. Charlie was suddenly very afraid that she'd never be able to let him go.

Dean watched the play of emotions over her face. It was only too easy to see what she was thinking. He was thinking it too. Bobby was going to kill him. He'd broken his promise not to touch her and the worst of it was he planned to do so again just as soon as he was able. Already he could feel his dick stirring. God, she was amazing. As he kissed her, he could taste the salt of her tears and that special something that was uniquely Charlie. That something that got to him like a drug and made him crave her all the more. The smart thing to do would be to forget this had ever happened. He knew she was thinking the same thing but he also knew that she couldn't do that anymore than he could.

Without breaking the kiss, Dean reached down and grasped her by her hips. He lifted her just a bit then angled his hips and thrust up into her wet, welcoming heat again. Charlie moaned into his mouth and curled her fingers into his hair. Oh God yes, he shouted silently as she ground down against him. Over and over, she raised herself up then slammed back down, reveling in the feeling of him ramming against her cervix, somewhere between pleasure and pain. Bracing her palms against his chest, Charlie arched her spine and threw her head back, chanting his name.

A light cough sounded from somewhere in the bedroom and her eyes flew open. Every muscle in her body went rigid at the sight of a strange trench coat-clad man sitting on the foot of the bed, eyeing her questioningly. Dean looked up at Charlie when she stopped moving, confused by her sudden lack of participation. He twisted his neck around and followed her panicked gaze. Recognizing the intruder, he growled.

"Fuck, Cas," he bit out as he reached for the bathroom door and slammed it. "How about some privacy, dude?"