Monday gets back into the swing of hunting when she helps Krissy investigate the suspicious goings-on at Krissy's college, and Sam deals with his feels for Sarah.

"Holy—" Sam nearly arched off the bed, scrabbling in the sheets to try and hold on. His chest heaved, sweat slowly running down it. "Don't—oh God—if you don't stop I'm gonna—shit, shit!"

The dark head of silky hair spread over his thighs, tongue running up the vein on the underside of his cock as spit-slick lips moved up and down. Sam groaned, nails digging into the sheets, twisting them and making them damp. He could feel it building up inside of him and he tried to lift his hips—and his companion up but she was having none of it, forcing him to stay down on the bed and holy fuck hollowing out her cheeks and oh God—

Sarah's green-hazel eyes flicked up to meet his, her lips red and swollen. She scraped her teeth gently over the skin, and he could tell she was smiling.

Then she hollowed out her cheeks again and swallowed, and he was fucking done for.

Sam woke up to crusty boxers, ruined sheets, and a pillow that had ended up on the floor. He blinked several times, trying to even out his breathing. He hadn't had a wet dream that badly since the one about Bela (he still wasn't entirely convinced she hadn't used that African dream root on him).

He fell back against the covers, feeling guilt creep in.

Shit.

Monday woke up screaming.

"Whoa! Hey! Whoa!"

Krissy slid over, wrapping her arms around her. "You're okay. You're awake. I'm right here. It's all okay."

Monday breathed heavily, shivering. The dream had felt so real—but then, then always felt real. The fire, the smell of sulfur and brimstone, the meat hooks biting into her flesh and the touch of the demon…

At least the nightmares were fewer now, and she could actually sleep in a bed. When she'd first had them, they'd been every night, and the sexual ones had been in there as well. She'd wake up, realize she was in a bed, think Alastair was going to come in any minute, and subsequently she would go berserk.

But now the dreams were fading. They came only about once a week or so, and they were less distinct. They were no longer specific episodes from the memories—just jumbled scenes and impressions. They felt real and inescapable, but they weren't as bad as they had been.

Monday clung to that knowledge.

Krissy helped. She'd let Monday sleep in bed with her, ready to hug and comfort whenever Monday woke up like this. Monday knew it couldn't be easy, having a bedmate that shook and moaned in her sleep and woke up once a week screaming loud enough to wake the entire dorm. Luckily Krissy's dorm mates had bought the story that Monday had lost her parents in a terrible fire and was suffering PTSD.

"I'm okay," Monday said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Krissy told her. She kissed her cheek and slipped out of bed. "I have class in half an hour anyway."

Monday watched Krissy saunter around the room half-dressed. They hadn't yet discussed what they were or taken any official steps, and Monday knew it was her fault. Unless she'd been reading Krissy entirely wrong. They'd talked on the phone all the time when she'd been with Dean and Krissy had been away, and now that Monday was with Krissy they spent nearly every waking moment together. They even shared a bed. But they hadn't gone past clinging hugs and kisses on the cheek, and they certainly hadn't discussed anything.

She'd have to be the one to say something, she knew. She was the one dealing with PTSD from something someone else went through. She was the one who wasn't calling her dad. She was the one refusing to talk about things.

She just had to work through this. She'd been through worse. Hell, she'd literally raised herself. She could get through this alone, too. She'd be fine.

Just… not yet.

Sarah laid a hand on his shoulder as she handed him coffee. "Morning sunshine," she teased, moving past him. Sam tensed, taking a large gulp of the coffee and burning his tongue.

"Fuck!"

"You okay there?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, fine," Sam spluttered. The last thing he needed was Dean finding out about his thoughts concerning Sarah.

Sam couldn't decide which side of the fence he was on. On the one hand, Sarah was amazing. Perfect, even. He'd known that back when he first met her. But he'd been mourning Jess and hellbent on revenge, so he'd walked away.

It seemed they were always doomed to meet when his almost-wife died.

And the fact that it happened twice in his life was a testament to how pretty fucked up his entire life was.

But he couldn't deny—Sarah was fantastic. She made him laugh, had a quick wit, was intelligent, practical and down-to-earth… if Sam were to make a list of all the traits he liked in a woman, Sarah was the only one who fit the entire bill besides Jess. And Jess, well, she was in a separate category.

And he knew Dean was pushing for it. His brother might have thought he was subtle but the fact was Dean Winchester was about as subtle as a stampeding elephant. Sam knew what those oops you and Sarah went on a hunt alone again and yeah Cas and I are tired you guys see the movie on your own moments were.

The other side of the fence, though, that was screaming pretty loudly.

He'd lost every girl he'd ever loved in one way or another. What if he lost Sarah too? And Amelia—he'd lost Amelia six months ago. Wasn't he supposed to wait for longer than that?

And then there was the part of him that said Amelia would want him to find someone else, to be happy. But what kind of selfish jerk was he, to move on so quickly and so callously?

Was he being callous?

Fuck, everything was upside down and inside out. He needed someone to talk to about this.

Dean was out of the question, seeing he was biased.

Charlie offered good advice but she was also a sneaky little thing and he didn't trust her not to blab to Dean.

Becky and Garth? Hell no.

Castiel was a good option, normally, but Cas's relationship expertise consisted of fucking Sam's big brother and being annoyingly devoted to said big brother, so no, not in this case.

Wait.

What if?

"Hey, Dean?" Sam said. "Would you guys be okay if I went on a short trip?"

"How short?" Dean asked.

"Just a couple days. I want to drive up to New York, check on things at Sonny's."

Dean gave him a suspicious look. Damn older brothers who raised you and knew your every facial expression. "Why do you want to go there?"

"I haven't seen Jody in forever," Sam said.

"You know she's engaged to Sonny, right?"

"Not like that, Dean, gross," Sam replied. "She's like a mom to me, you know that. I just want to see her and say hi, catch up—I'll let you know how Timmy and the others are doing."

Dean didn't look entirely convinced, but he shrugged and gave in. "All right. Just keep in touch."

"Thanks."

If Jody couldn't help him sort this out, nobody could.

"…and look! The Cross Country team is first, too!" Krissy said, jabbing at the yearbook. "I'm telling you, this isn't normal."

"Your college has five hundred students and is in the middle of nowhere," Monday said. "And they're in first place in every sports division and winning international science awards? Sounds like witchcraft to me."

Krissy snorted. "More like a crossroads demon. I'm guessing someone on the administrative staff, maybe a trustee."

"The demons are locked up in Hell," Monday pointed out. "And Death released all crossroad contracts."

"All right, coven it is." Krissy pulled out the student register. "Who do you think?"

"If we cross reference who's friends with who's in what sport or active in an area of the school that's successful…" Monday said, peering over Krissy's shoulder.

Krissy looked up at her. "You okay with this?"

Monday stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"With this, with hunting. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Krissy arched her eyebrows but didn't say anything, turning back to the student register.

Sam tried not to fidget in his chair. Jody narrowed her eyes at him. "Sam Winchester," she said, "What am I going to do with you?"

Sam shrugged.

Jody sighed. "Well, first off—do you like the girl?"

"Of course. I mean, she's great. She's really, really great."

"No, I mean, do you like her." Jody leaned to her left and shouted down the hallway. "Knock it off!"

Sam frowned. "I didn't hear anything."

"Exactly. Sneaky little bastards," Jody said affectionately. "What I mean, Sam, is this just lust? Because that could be it."

"No, no I…" Sam shifted in his seat. "I, um, don't really go for that."

Jody arched her eyebrows. "You're human, aren't you?"

"No, I mean—I mean I, uh, don't do the one night stands thing. Except once, that was—that was a weird weekend." Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, I like her. I really like her."

"You're articulate," Jody said dryly. "All right then. So you want to date her. Take her out dancing, that kind of thing."

Sam nodded.

"Well, that makes it easier." Jody leaned back. "Ask the girl out."

"But—but—did you not," Sam waved his hands in the air and knew he looked like an idiot, but he couldn't seem to make the words connect and form complete sentences.

Jody leaned forward. "Sam," she said, her voice gentle and motherly, "You've had it hard with love. I won't pretend otherwise. But you've learned something each time, haven't you? You've grown. And you did love. You gave with all of your heart, and sometimes that's all that matters in this world."

Timmy and two other boys ran through the kitchen, laughing and chasing each other. "No running in the house!" Jody called after them, but she was smiling. "You think I waste my time with these children, wondering if I have a right after losing my husband and son?"

A teenage girl entered the kitchen, pausing when she saw Sam.

"It's all right, Double A," Jody said.

"Double A?" Sam asked.

"My legal name's Annie, but I was called Alex for a few years," the girl said. "So they call me Double A."

"I'm Sam," Sam said, standing and shaking her hand.

"Sam's an old friend," Jody explained.

"Jody's too modest," Sam said. "She's the mom I never had."

"From what Bobby tells me, that's what your brother was."

"No, see, Dean was the mom I did have," Sam joked.

Alex Annie smiled. "Jody's the best." She turned to Jody. "Should I call the boys in for dinner?"

"Sure."

Jody's eyes tracked the girl as she left the room. "Sonny and I are going to adopt her once the wedding's taken care of," she said. "We haven't told her yet—don't want to get her all excited in case something falls through."

"You seem really happy," Sam said.

"I am." Jody smiled at him. "And you should be, too."

She patted his hand. "Now c'mon and have dinner with us, and then go get your girl."

Monday examined herself carefully in the mirror.

She wasn't bad looking as far as natural features went. Sure, she was skinny, and her body had never even heard of curves, but she had a pretty face and she was proud of her breasts. No, she wasn't bad to look at, not in the slightest.

But then there were the scars.

Her wing scars were on her back, two vicious red lines that ran down either side of her spine. Her burn marks from when she was a child ran down from her elbows to the backs of her hands, and the spidery scar over her heart still glittered slivery blue like an exploding star. That was definitely her oddest scar, but it wasn't the most noticeable. That award went to the hellhound scars, four of them slashing down her face from her right temple to the left side of her chin, with four more at her throat and upper chest. She remembered Amelia telling her she was lucky the claws had missed her eyes or she'd have lost her sight for sure.

Amelia had patched up both the hellhound and the wing scars—Amelia, who was dead and gone.

Monday gripped the edges of the sink as a wave of nausea hit her. When had she been reduced to this? This—this weakling that had nightmares and was scared of the dark and going to sleep and couldn't hunt, couldn't even look her father in the eye?

A weakling that lost her two best friends and the woman who'd saved her life twice—that kind of weakling. And two of those deaths had happened in front of her.

She had a flash of Kevin's dead face, the gushing blood, and she vomited into the sink.

"Monday?"

Krissy's hands were warm at her back. "You all right?"

Monday nodded. "Uh-huh."

They locked eyes in the mirror. "I'm quite a sight, huh?" Monday said, trying to joke.

"I think you're beautiful," Krissy replied.

Monday didn't know what to say to that.

"This?" Krissy tapped the wing scars on Monday's back. "You told me you got these because you wouldn't tell Naomi where Castiel was. And these?" Krissy ran her fingers down the hellhound scars, her touch light. "You got these because you were protecting Dean from Crowley. I remember when you came in with them. We thought you were a goner.

"And this?" Krissy pressed her palm to the scar over Monday's heart. "You sacrificed your life to close the Gates of Heaven. You saved who knows how many people because of that.

"And these marks…" Krissy picked up Monday's wrists, running her thumb over the burn scars. "These were horrible people doing horrible things because they were scared and didn't like what they didn't understand.

"You survived all of this, Monday. You were strong and you stood up and you protected those you loved. You sacrificed for your family—for all of humanity. You never backed down, not once. These?" Krissy ran her fingers down the scars on Monday's face. "These are a part of who you are. They show what a hero you are. And I think they're beautiful."

Krissy's eyes were dark and soft, watching Monday, tracking her movements even as Monday leaned into her. They only stopped watching when their lips brushed together, when they slid closed.

"Is this okay?" Monday whispered.

Instead of speaking, Krissy brought her hand around to the back of Monday's head and smashed their mouths together.

Sam had to say he'd never been to a more chaotic dinner.

There were about twenty kids of varying ages at the dinner table. Ten or so were monsters of some kind, while another five were hunter's orphans, and the final handful were regular kids snatched from the jaws of juvie. Sonny sat at one end and Sam on the other, with Jody on Sonny's right side and Alex Annie on his left. Between the four of them, they managed to keep the kids under control.

Sort of.

Sam regaled Sonny and Jody with stories of what they'd been up to, careful to edit it so the worst parts were left out. He told a few embarrassing stories about Dean and Cas, like the time they'd all walked in on them in the kitchen, and listened as Jody and Sonny told him all about the crazy things the kids at the home did.

Finally, though, it was time to go.

Sam slid into the car and started it up, waving at everyone crowded on the front porch. He called Dean as he made his way out of town and began talking as soon as he heard the phone pick up.

"Hey, I'm on my way back. Sonny says you owe him a visit next, and Jody gave me cookies. Not sure if I'll let you have some or not."

"Tell Sonny I would love to meet him sometime," Sarah's voice came over the phone.

Sam nearly drove the car into a ditch. "I thought you were Dean."

"He's got his hands full, so I grabbed the phone."

"Uh… define, 'hands full'."

"Not like that," Sarah laughed. "Cas just handed him a pile of books taller than he is."

"Right." Sam grinned. "Well I started off pretty late so I'll probably have to stop by a motel on my way back, but I should be there by lunch tomorrow."

"Sounds good. I know I'll be glad to have you back. I'm the third wheel here."

"Trust me, I know how it feels. I spent three years watching them make goo-goo eyes at each other and refuse to admit anything."

"You're such a martyr." Sam could hear Sarah's grin through the phone. "Drive safely then."

"See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

Sam found himself grinning like a lunatic as he hung up the phone. Man, he had it badly.

As he drove, he sent up a quick prayer to Amelia. He hoped that she could hear him, and that she was happy. He hoped that Heaven was better now, for angels and human souls alike, and he hoped that this was something she was okay with.

But like Jody said, sometimes love was all we had to hope for in life. It was best to get it while they could.

Things had gone very, very wrong.

Krissy had insisted on handling the main part of the operation, and Monday was happy to let her. They'd identified the members of the coven, as well as when and where they were meeting. Krissy was smart and armed to the teeth. Monday was confident that they could handle this.

What neither of them had thought to even consider was the kind of ritual the coven would be performing at their meeting.

They also hadn't thought that the coven would strike first.

Fast forward a couple hours later and the result was one abducted hunter plus six witches who hadn't planned on their kidnap victim being so skilled at self-defense, and you had a school building burning down to the ground with seven college girls trapped inside.

And one girl facing the flames.

Monday tried to breathe. She wasn't a nephilim anymore, which made this more dangerous for her to attempt, but that wasn't the issue.

It was fire.

Every time she looked into the flames she could feel it on her skin—the heat of Hell, the touch of the knife, of Alastair's fingers. She could see their twisted faces in the flames: hers, Dean's, Alastair's, Castiel's, anyone who'd tortured Dean or been tortured by him in the Pit. She could hear the screams echoing in her ears.

Think. Concentrate. It wasn't real it wasn't real it wasn't real. Krissy was real. Krissy was down there, trapped, dying. She had to get to Krissy.

Hands held in front of her face, Monday ran into the building.

The fire roared around her, heat bathing her body and making it hard to breathe. She could hear faint screams and began making her way through, down to the basement. Someone ran at her, screeching something, and Monday chanted and waved her hand to make the girl fling herself to the side. Witches? Monday could deal with witches.

By the time she reached the basement she was certain the entire building was engulfed in flames. She wondered if the fire department was there. The room she was in had been set up as a makeshift coven house, with symbols on the walls and drawn on the floor and small bowls of incense and oil.

And there, in the center of the room—

Monday ran to Krissy, carefully hoisting her up. "Fuck, you're heavy," she grumbled.

"Fuck you," Krissy replied, her voice thick and slow like molasses. Her head rolled around onto Monday's shoulder.

"What did they give you?" Monday asked, struggling to carry the other girl and walk at the same time.

"Dunno," Krissy murmured. "Tasted… sweet."

"Uh-huh." Monday managed to make it to the stairs. Now she'd have to walk back through the inferno. The thought made her want to vomit. But she had to keep Krissy safe. She couldn't fly out, and whatever extra strength she'd once had was gone, but she could do this. She had to do this.

One step. Alastair laughed at her from the center of the flames.

Second step. Dean begged for Sam to save him.

Third step. Her own screams echoed back at her.

Through shadow and smoke, she had to climb. She held onto Krissy as tightly as she could, the other girl passing in and out of consciousness, slurring out a few words here and there that Monday couldn't hear over the roar and cackle of the flames.

You couldn't save your mother, someone—maybe Alastair, maybe Dean, maybe herself—whispered.

You couldn't save Castiel.

You couldn't save Amelia.

Weakest link. Worthless child. Castoff. Abomination. Halfling.

She'd reached the top of the stairs. She just had to get to the front door.

Nobody wants you. You belong here. You're just like us. Pathetic. You belong to the darkness. Just give in. Feel it. Embrace it.

She collapsed halfway across the building, hacking and coughing. "Krissy," she whispered. Her voice sounded strange, dry and raspy, like it didn't belong to her. "Wake up. You—you have to walk, I can't carry you."

Krissy didn't respond. Monday shook her. "No. No, don't you leave me. I'm supposed to save you. It's supposed to be different this time."

A section of the building fell in, sending wood and metal and sparks flying everywhere. Monday bent double, shielding Krissy from the debris. Her tears evaporated as soon as she shed them, and she could hardly breathe for coughing.

There were crashing sounds in the distance. More of the building was coming down.

"Dean!" She screamed. She clutched desperately at Krissy. "Dean! Castiel! Dean!"

A gigantic shape emerged from the smoke and flame. It was just like the end of her better dreams, the ones where she got to the part where Castiel cut through Hell to get to her.

The figure seemed so alien, so huge and terrifying, and she knew this was how Dean had felt when the Angel of Thursday had come to save him.

"Castiel," she whispered, gazing up at the strange creature.

She passed out, still sheltering Krissy.

Dean reached over Cas to grab the phone. "Move it, assbutt," he said affectionately.

"That's my line," Cas mumbled sleepily.

"Hello?" Dean said. He frowned. "Yes, this is he. Yeah, I'm listed as her emergency contact. Blood relative? No, I was a friend of her dad's, she's orphaned." He sat up straight. "What?"

Cas sat up as well, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Anyone else with her? Yeah, a blonde girl, blue eyed, same age. What? Fuck yes it's my business, that's my fucking daughter. Yes, I'm on my way right now." Dean hung up the phone. "C'mon, we gotta go."

"What happened?" Cas asked, watching as Dean scrambled out of bed.

"There was a fire at Krissy's school. Both Krissy and Monday are in the hospital."

Once he heard that, Cas was out of bed and moving faster than Dean.

When Sam entered the motel room, he pulled out his phone. Twenty missed calls? What the hell?

He pressed 'redial' and put the phone to his ear.

Sammy?

"Dean? Twenty missed calls? What the hell?"

Monday's in the hospital. Cas and I are going to pick her up. We left Sarah to hold down the fort.

"Hospital? Is she okay?"

We don't know. There was a fire.

"Was it a hunt?"

We don't know! She's unconscious, they haven't had a chance to talk to her.

"How'd they know to call you?"

Krissy's there too. She's out too but the school has me listed as her emergency contact.

"I'm sure they're going to be okay," Sam said. "Remember how many times we've ended up in the hospital for things."

Yeah, I know.

"Keep me posted."

You got it.

"And drive safely."

That's what I've got Cas here for. Freakin' police officer.

Sam chuckled. "Okay."

Dean hung up and Sam sighed, sitting down on the bed. He was certain Krissy and Monday were okay. They were smart girls, both trained by hunters, and they'd come through worse and been fine. But Dean was probably going to worry his way to an early grave over them.

He'd just finished getting ready for bed when he saw that he had a voicemail. Dean had probably called while he was in the shower.

Sam pressed play on the voicemail and flopped down onto the bed.

Sam…

That was not Dean.

This is… probably a really stupid idea, but—couldn't do it in person and, and I thought why the hell not? Y'know? And so—so here we are.

That was Sarah. That was Sarah… moaning. And breathing like she'd just run a marathon.

Can you tell what I'm doing? Sarah's breathing was choppy and he could hear the bed moving underneath her. Didn't—didn't want to get rejected by you again but then I thought, fuck it— She laughed. I've had a few drinks. Dean and Cas left, so I hit the vodka. Here in this big place all alone, Sam. Just thinking of you. Pretending it's you. Want you so bad, want to—

The voicemail cut off after that, but Sam was already moving.

Who needed sleep, anyway?

The world came into focus slowly, by bits and pieces. It wasn't like when she'd died and come back, going from bright light to hey whoa breathing again. This was like emerging from the bottom of the ocean, the water slowly thinning and the light growing, making shapes and sounds identifiable.

"Hey, baby girl."

Monday turned her head, blinking at the harsh light. She ached all over. "Dean?" It hurt to talk and she winced.

Dean smiled down at her, reaching over to smooth her hair away from her face. "Yeah. You've been out for a while. Don't try to talk too much; you've got some smoke damage. Paramedics said you're lucky it wasn't worse."

"Krissy?" Monday asked.

"Up and about, in a manner of speaking," Dean said. "She had some kind of sedative in her but she had less smoke damage than you. Neither of you got burned, which was the hospital's first concern."

"Other… girls…" Monday managed.

"They found six more bodies," Dean said. "You two were the only survivors. What happened?"

Monday tapped her chest.

"You?"

Monday tugged on her earlobe. "Sounds like?" Dean hazarded.

Monday held two fingers close together.

"Close," Dean said. "You, sounds like… like you? They were witches?"

Monday nodded.

"They nabbed Krissy, didn't they."

Monday nodded.

Dean grinned. "And you got her out."

Monday nodded again. It was making her head hurt.

"Here, have some water." Dean helped her to sit up and handed her a cup of water to drink from. "You gotta stop getting yourself into these things, baby girl. Nearly gave me a heart attack."

Monday rolled her eyes.

"Hey." Dean took her hand in his. "We've missed you back home. And I know—I know you needed to work some things out. Probably should have started working out some of those things sooner. But we're still family. And that means we're there for each other. And not just when the bullets are flying, either. When we're scared and scarred and angry and lost, too. You understand that?"

Monday nodded, tears slowly sliding down her face. She'd missed Dean. She'd missed Castiel. She'd missed her family.

"Now, you don't have to talk right away. But I'm here when you're ready. I'm not going anywhere." Dean reached behind him. "Oh. And there was a little bit of confusion with the hospital, so I went ahead and called Charlie. She fixed some things up for us."

He handed Monday a legal document. Most of it was in tiny writing and she didn't bother reading it, but she could understand the heading just fine.

Proof of Adoption

And on the bottom, she could make out her name—plus a new addition.

Monday Evans Winchester

Monday burst into tears, and let Dean wrap his arms around her.

She'd missed his hugs.

Sam made his way down the entrance steps, gazing around the bunker. Most of the lights were out or dimmed, which was appropriate for four in the morning. He tossed the keys and his bag onto a table. He'd been raring to go when he'd set out but that was before hours of driving, and Sarah was probably asleep by now, not expecting him until morning.

There was the click of a gun behind his head.

"Don't. Move."

He turned. "Hello to you too, Sarah."

She was wearing an oversized gray t-shirt and blue satin underwear, her hair disheveled. She must've heard him come in and had grabbed the gun, just in case.

"I didn't expect you until morning," she admitted, setting the gun on the table. "Dean said he'd call and tell you what was up."

"Yeah, he called." Sam tried to keep his voice even. "I got an interesting voicemail earlier."

"Oh?" He couldn't tell if Sarah was being coy or was genuinely nervous.

"Yeah. Made me skip on the sleep and drive right back here."

"Did it now?"

She was definitely playing coy now, taking tiny steps back from him. He took a few steps forward. "Care to explain?"

"What's there to explain?" She asked, taking a few more steps back. "I took a gamble."

Sam advanced until Sarah was backed up against the wall. "You think it paid off?"

"I hope so." Sarah smiled, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "So, Sam?" She spread her legs a little bit. "What are you going to do about it?"

What he was going to do about it, as it turned out, was fuck her against the wall.

Castiel was about to enter the room but paused, seeing that Dean and Monday were still talking.

"The worst part was that—that sometimes I was myself. I wasn't being you on the rack, I was being me on the rack. So when Alastair took me to see my dad, I wasn't Dean seeing John, it was me seeing you. And I—I know it's stupid but I was ashamed because those were your memories, not mine. I felt like I was violating you somehow."

Castiel knocked lightly on the doorframe as he entered. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, you're fine," Monday said. There were tear tracks running down her face but she smiled at him.

"I just checked on Krissy," Castiel told them. "She's all set to be checked out."

"The doc said he wanted to give Monday one last check up before he gave her the go ahead," Dean said. "But hopefully she'll be out of here by the end of the day." Dean looked over at Monday. "Then how about the four of us head back to the bunker?"

Monday nodded and Dean squeezed her hand. "Good." He stood up and kissed her on the forehead, then turned to Cas. "And now, I need a strong cup of coffee."

"We need to clean up before the others get back," Sarah said.

Sam wondered how she was capable of stringing together cohesive sentences when he still couldn't make any sound other than a groan. At least they'd managed to make it to the bed for round two. He turned his head and met her gaze, smiling at her. Sam reached out, running his fingers over the curve of her shoulder, down her side to her hip, feeling the smooth skin.

"You okay?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah," he replied. A part of him wasn't okay, just like a part of him hadn't been okay after Jess, but he could live with that. These things, he'd learned, took time. Which was ironic, considering they didn't have a lot of it.

He pulled her into him, making her giggle when he found a ticklish spot. "We have to pick up," Sarah said, trying to fight him.

"Sleep first," Sam told her, laughing as she slapped at him playfully.

"Fine. But only for a little bit."

Sarah curled up into him, letting him wrap his arms around her and pull them both into sleep.

Dean stared at the trail of clothes on the floor. "Oh, he is so dead," he vowed. "So very dead."

"After the kitchen debacle? I think this is payback," Monday replied.

"I was wondering how long it would take Sam and Sarah to get together," Cas commented.

"You know what this means, right?" Dean said.

"Um… no?" Monday said.

Dean rubbed his hands together. "Prank war."