"You can do this, Y/N."

You groan in frustration. "Why didn't God give me the ability to shoot a goddamn gun? Why was it just hand-to-hand combat and a remarkable ability to quit smoking?" You turn to look at Sam. "Any ideas?"

He grins and shrugs. "Not a clue. But you can do this."

Sam is trying to teach you to shoot again, and it's going extremely slow. You don't know what the hell is going on, but there's some sort of mental block when it comes to pulling a trigger that you can't get around. Sam insists on believing in you, which is very sweet, but misguided.

"Come on," he says gently, "Do it again."

You tilt your head back and groan again. "But, Sam-"

"No buts, Y/N."

You sigh and turn back to the target, which you have hit twice in the past hour. You take a deep breath in and raise the gun, trying to aim toward that stupid, mocking red circle in the middle.

You feel heat at your back, and Sam's long arms are wrapping around you, steadying your hand. His voice is in your ear, encouraging and soft.

"Just focus, this is easy. Just relax, keep your breathing even, and squeeze the trigger when you're ready."

You follow his instructions, and manage to shoot the tree next to the one you're trying to hit. Even while you internally curse, you continue firing, knowing that Sam doesn't want you to stop. He wants it to become second nature, and you know that's a good idea, but part of you is whiny and wants to give up.

Instead, you keep working on it, wasting bullets, wincing constantly, and worrying that Sam is about to give up on you, too. He gives no indication that that's the truth, he just steps back and gives you gentle pointers, but you can't help thinking it.

He knows you can't do it, because you can't do it. This is an essential part of hunting, you know, you have to know how to do this. So stop fucking up.

xxxxx

Later, you're firing again, on your third box of ammo for the day, still beating yourself up, when you sense him. Then his arms are wrapping around you, his deep voice rumbling in your ear, sending awareness tingling through your limbs.

"Stop it, princess, you've got this," he says softly, adjusting your stance a little, using his booted foot to kick your feet closer together. "Deep breath, squeeze when I tell you to."

You nod and take a deep breath, your stomach fluttering at his proximity. Which is ridiculous, because the man has been inside you, but still. Maybe it's because he seems to know that you were berating yourself, and also seems to know exactly what to say to knock you out of the vicious cycle your mind puts you on. The gentle but firm timbre of his voice has that inner voice shutting right up.

You exhale slowly, letting his presence settle you. When he murmurs, "Now," into your ear, you squeeze the trigger, the motion almost casual. And, to your utter and complete shock, you hit the target almost dead center.

You blink, then tilt your head back and laugh. "Holy shit!"

Dean's chuckling behind you. "Told you you could do it."

You end up hitting the target several more times, even when he moves away and is just watching. By the time you call it quits and go back to the house so you can cook dinner, you're beaming with pride.

He walks hand-in-hand with you, and Winch meets the two of you halfway, padding along on the other side of Dean. It's so domestic and couple-y that you're a little dizzy, and you can't seem to wipe the smile off of your face.

"What's so funny, princess?"

You turn to beam up at him, watching his green eyes sparkle. "I'm just happy, Dean."

xxxxx

Dean walks with her back to the house, letting the sun warm his shoulders and reaching down to run a hand along Winch's big head. I'm just happy, she said. She's happy here with him. And he knows she's telling the truth, he could see it in her head when he was there. Honestly, as annoying as it was, Cass probably did Dean a favor.

Because as soon as he'd seen her when he had come to find her and Sam, he had known what she was doing. She was yelling at herself for some God forsaken reason, even though she's probably never touched a gun in her life. She was a waitress, there's no reason she should know how to shoot right off the bat.

It had seemed absolutely natural to come up behind her, adjust her stance, and tell that voice in her head to shut up. And there's no small amount of smug pride in his heart that it was his presence that had finally let her start shooting accurately.

For the first time in a while, Dean thinks about her being his soulmate. He thinks about her laughter making his heart lighter, her touch driving him crazy, and her hand in his settling some restless part of him as they approached the house. He pretty much believed Cass when he'd said that he and Y/N were soulmates, but he has a better understanding now of what that means.

They walk into the kitchen, and she lets go of him to shrug her jacket off and hang it on the back of a chair before she takes the apron off of the nail on the wall and ties it around her waist. He doesn't have anything better to do than watch her (he thinks that no matter what's going on, he'll never have anything better to do than watch her), so he sits at the table and does just that.

Being her soulmate means understanding the terror that her head provides her with sometimes. It means shielding her from it as much as he can, and helping her shield herself from it. It means protecting her from everything else, too, and making sure that she's happy and safe with him.

Being her soulmate means that his soul is the perfect mirror of hers, and that they'll fill up the places in one another they can't fill up themselves.

xxxxx

After dinner, the guys settle in to watch a movie, and you're doing dishes in the kitchen. Dean wanted to help, but you shooed him out, craving a little time alone with your thoughts.

Dinner was lovely, with his big, warm hand on your thigh. Laughing at stories of their hunts that weren't featured on the show, laughing at Bobby's stories. A night of not talking about angels and heaven and the apocalypse has been severely needed.

And Dean. Dean has been affectionate all night, a hand playing with the tips of your hair, or on your leg, or wrapped around the back of your chair. You're getting a little addicted to touchy-feely Dean, if you're being perfectly honest with yourself.

Which you're remarkably okay with. Since your honesty the night before, you're at peace with yourself. Dean hasn't said anything about it, and you're not going to bring it up if he doesn't, but somehow you're all right with that. Maybe it's just with him, because he's your soulmate, but it doesn't feel like a snub that he hasn't mentioned it, or hasn't said he loves you back. It just feels kind of… Right.

Dean Winchester has never been the most emotionally open or available man, you knew that going in. You also know that you tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, and the fact that he didn't already know that you're head over heels in love with him is a testament to how unobservant he is. So in the end, you were always going to say it first. And there was always the risk he wouldn't say it back. You're at peace with it.

You're done with the dishes, so you take the apron off and hang it on the wall. You snap your fingers for Winch to follow you and you sneak into the living room to join the guys.

Dean is on the couch, next to Sam, and Bobby is in his chair. You smile and hunch so you can make your way to Dean, then settle quickly on the floor, your back pressed to his shins. You wrap your arms around your knees so Winch can curl around you, his head resting on your bare feet. He lets out a deep, satisfied groan, and you smile and turn to the action movie the men are watching.

You feel his hand start to play with your hair, running through it gently from scalp to tips. You sigh softly and lean into his touch, which is doing a fair job of lulling you into sleep. You tilt your head into his hand, closing your eyes and letting his warmth sink into you.

xxxxx

Dean hoists her into his arms to carry her to bed when the movie ends, savoring the trusting way she rests her head on his shoulder without waking up. Her warmth against his legs was distracting as fuck through the whole movie, and he's arguing with himself as he walks up the stairs, the dog following close behind.

She's still got to be sore, leave her alone. God, she's so warm, maybe she won't mind… Just because she won't mind doesn't mean you should jump her bones, keep it in your pants. Ah, but she's so soft and pretty and she makes those noises…

He bends a little to get the door open, then walks in and lays her on the bed gently. She sighs and frowns a little, but stays asleep. He stands and looks at her for a moment, her face soft in slumber, one arm stretched toward him, her fingers brushing the denim of his jeans.

Fuck.

She's lovely, getting prettier every day, and he can't help leaning down and brushing a kiss against her lips. She responds like she does in his dreams, wantonly, one hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck, fingers spearing through the hair there. "Dean," she sighs into him, waking up enough to come up on one elbow to kiss him harder.

He smiles against her mouth. "Let me close the door, princess."

She nods sleepily and drops back down. He turns and shuts the door gently, then turns back to her. As he strips off his flannel, he realizes two things. The first is that he didn't let the dog out, so Winch is now stretched out between her and the far wall, leaving just enough space for Dean on this side of her. The second thing he realizes is that she's already deeply asleep again.

He smiles and finishes undressing, then leans down to pick her up again. When she groans, he whispers, "Grab the blankets, princess, we're going to bed."

"Mmm, 'kay, Dean," she agrees sleepily, looking over and flipping the covers over. He slowly lets her stand, then pulls her shirt over her head and her sweats down her legs. She lets him, using his shoulder as support to step out of her pants. Then he scoops her back into his arms and slips her into the bed, joining her immediately after.

He savors the way she curls into him, burying her face in his chest and tangling her legs with his. He puts one arm under her head and the other around her waist, pulling her tight against him and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"'Night, princess," he husks softly.

"Night, Dean. Love you," she mumbles, already mostly asleep.

And, just like they did the first time, the words make his heart beat faster.

xxxxx

You're watching Dean stand in front of the bakery section of the grocery store with a fond smile on your face and a very serious look on his. Pie, apparently, is damn near life or death business.

"Dean," you say softly, going up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "I'm going to look around elsewhere. Come find me when you're done."

He turns those serious green eyes to you, and they always make something inside you flutter wildly. "Are you sure you're gonna be all right?"

You nod and smile. "Yes, Dean, it's a supermarket, I can handle it."

He frowns. "Y/N, I mean-"

Your hand on his arm stops his words. "I know, Dean, but if I need you, I'll call out, okay?"

He finally nods, then turns back to look at the pies again.

You smile and wander away, pushing the shopping cart in front of you happily. When you announced this morning that a trip to the grocery store was mandatory today, it wasn't even an option for Dean to stay behind. He just nodded and grabbed his jacket, then led you out of the house with his hand on your back.

You're chewing your lip as you walk down the aisle, trying to remember everything you have to do this week so you can cook accordingly. Your foreknowledge has given everyone a lot more time than expected, since you already know who the bad guys are, you already know how to kill them. It means that everyone is at home a lot more, so more cooking needs to be done.

You're staring at the pasta selections when a tap on the arm has you turning.

A man about your height stands there, sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. An uneasy smile stretches your lips. "Can I help you?"

He's staring at you a little. "I'm sorry," he says in a deep baritone as he raises two fingers to your forehead.

You don't even have time to scream when the world goes dark around you.

xxxxx

Dean is frowning as he walks down the last aisle he saw her in again, pie all but forgotten in his hand. Worry is starting to make his steps faster, more insistent. Where the fuck is she? Never letting her out of my sight again.

His phone rings, and he ignores it, still looking for her. "Y/N? Princess?" he's asking, walking along the aisles, searching for the sundress she's wearing today, her hair pulled up and away from her face. "Princess?"

His phone rings again, and he pulls it out of his jacket pocket, irritated. It's an unknown number, and he almost doesn't answer it, but she'll be irritated if she's just stepped outside or something and he ignores someone who needs help. So Dean flips the phone open and presses it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Dean," Zachariah's smarmy voice says, and Dean feels his limbs go cold and hears the pie smash to the floor. "Long time, no see."

"Zachariah," he snarls, already pulling his keys out and running toward the exit.

"We have your little lady friend here, Dean," Zachariah continues, "She's… Lovely, you know. I can see why you'd keep her."

"You touch a hair on your head, and I'm gonna keep my promise to stab you in the face sooner rather than later."

Zachariah chuckles. "Oh, she's safe, Dean. And I'm perfectly willing to give her back! You just have to meet some… Conditions."

Dean's practically growling as he tries to keep his temper cool. He starts Baby and swings her out of the parking lot. "Let me guess. I agree to be an angel condom, you let her go."

"See, I knew you weren't as dumb as you look," the angel says approvingly. "What do you say, Dean? Say yes now, and she walks."

Dean thought about it for a long time, trying to decide what to do, what would save her, keep them from hurting her.

"Dean. I need an answer. Now."

xxxxx

Hi everyone! Here's my notes:
I don't own Supernatural or the characters. (heartbroken)
Reviews, comments, and kudos give me the warm fuzzies and keep me going.
If there are any mistakes in continuity, canon, or geography, blame me.

**I promise there won'the be this many cliffhangers normally. This chapter just got real long, specifically splitting it up into two made more sense. 3 I'm sorry! (Isn't actually sorry)