Chapter 25

Show me show me show me how you do that trick, the one that makes me scream she said, the one that makes me laugh she said. Threw her arms around my neck, "Show me how you do it and I promise you I promise that I'll run away with you." – Robert Smith

S-S-S-S-S

She hadn't texted yesterday or last week. Not that he cared, but he hadn't blocked her number because it kind of helped that she still regretted what she had done to him. And her apology coming via text every Sunday at lunchtime had become a kind of passive way for him to keep track of his… ex-wife? Whatever. Seemed like Dean wasn't the only one with trouble naming relationships.

Not that they had a relationship. He just kept tabs on her. In case she decided to drug him again.

Becky Rosen née Winchester. She was batshit crazy. Dean hated her, and with every reason. Sam thought he might have hated her. Of course he hated her. Because she drugged him. And she did it to force him to marry her. She didn't skin him or anything, which really, he would have totally allowed her to do while under that potion.

That potion. God, if he ever needed proof the world was cruel, that was it. He remembered every moment from the second he laid eyes on her after the first dose. He remembered her smile, their first kiss.

And how seriously fucked up was that? He remembered kissing his stalker, and he replayed it in his head. Not because he loved her or missed her, but because the potion created this feeling of such bliss and happiness. For the first time in his life he had been completely happy. Nothing weighed on his shoulders, nothing in his head or heart but his complete and utter contentment at holding this one women in his arms.

So, yeah – the potion was well out of his system, but the memory of her expression lingered on. She felt the same way. About him, but without chemical help. That was a pretty powerful feeling. So batshit insane Becky, who was messed up six ways to Sunday was also capable of deep love.

Which was stupid. Deep ever-lasting true love didn't drug somebody. He played these thoughts through his head every Sunday when her text arrived.

'I'm sorry.' That's all it ever said. No more, no less. And he could have blocked her number, but he never did.

Where did that leave him? Crazy stalker not texting you? The normal reaction was NOT to worry about her. On the other hand, Sam was pretty far from normal; so maybe that was it. And crazy stalker girl had also put Sam's welfare and free will above her love when she declined the deal with that demon. In the back of his head, Sam was still pretty in awe that she had done that. He wasn't sure he would have done the same if he'd been in the same situation with been Jessica.

Well, back then anyway. Now, he liked to think he could walk away without much of a problem.

It was after ten, and the house was quickly shutting down. Dean was watching something stupid on TV, because he rarely watched anything of any value. Cas was most likely lying next to Dean. Or on him. Honestly, Sam had just been avoiding the house when Dean and Cas were home for the past week. Wow, that whole thing was kinda' getting out of hand. Like they needed to get their house. The light bulb situation was totally unreasonable, and frankly the smug grin Dean would get made Sam want to punch his brother in the face.

His phone shut off in his hand, and he pulled his laptop over. Pulling up Live Journal he checked for any updates. She had stopped posting her wincest, but recently her original work had been leaning toward a darker theme of forgiveness and denial. The first time he saw she'd updated, he'd felt his belly flip. It was a weird way they were connected that she didn't know about, but it was still kinda' cool. But after reading the first part, he's gut had dropped.

Her newest work was about how a girl had destroyed her relationship with her love. Duh, him. And while it never went into any of the details, she was deeply remorseful. Like on a deep level that Sam wasn't even sure he was capable of. What was that damn line that sucked the breath from him every time he read it? And yes, he reread her writing. Shut up.

"Maybe heartbreak was price she would pay for the rest of her life. It almost didn't seem like a high enough price."

That had actually scared Sam a little. He'd created his own LJ account under the name Licks4MePls and sent her a message about her writing and generally upbeat and encouraging. Okay, the name was stupid as hell, but in his defense screen names were meant to be a little dumb. Plus, he couldn't think of anything else at the time.

She had responded, and they actually emailed sometimes when she updated. There had not been an update for well over two weeks; that was unusual for her. What if she was sick or dead or possessed? Did she have a tattoo? Shit, even Dean had thought about the tattoo to protect Cas. Here Sam was, possession expert and vessel to Satan himself, not even thinking about protecting his wife. His ex-wife. His stalker ex-wife with the sparkling eyes and sweetest lips.

As an ex/annulled husband, he needed to check on her. Sure, whatever. He picked his phone up and pulled her contact up.

And that was it. He sat there not knowing what the hell to text. 'Hey Becky – still batshit?' or 'Hey Becks – just worried about you, because I'm batshit'? Maybe… 'Hey Becky – Dean and Cas decided to make the fandoms happy and are currently getting raunchy on the sofa downstairs.' Or the one that would under no circumstances be sent – 'Becky, I jack off thinking about kissing you.'

Dean was sure she had raped him. He had gone on and on about how chemically making him wanting sex did not equal consent. But the most she had done was take his shirt off, kissed him, and cuddled up close. She had mostly just wanted to touch him and listen to him talk about how much he loved her.

The one time he had tried to have sex with her, right after their Vegas shotgun wedding, he had been shocked. He had gone to the bathroom well after they'd fallen asleep holding tight to each other. His middle of the night wood had turned into a raging hard on, so he'd stripped down to his birthday suit and crawled back into bed with his wife.

God, he was getting hard thinking about. He'd pulled her gown up above her breasts, and pulled her panties down off her long legs. He'd left the bathroom light on so he could look his fill. The smell of her sex had filled his nose when he'd pulled the little scrap of cotton down her toned thighs. Her neatly trimmed little area begging for his attention.

Sam palmed himself through his pajamas. Damn. He had buried his face between her legs, hitching one over his shoulder, and fucking gone to town. He didn't go down on one night stands, and frankly it had been way too long since he'd enjoyed his favorite foreplay.

Becky had woken with his tongue lapping at her clit, one finger working her channel, and his name screaming off her tongue as she came. Sweet, musky, and addictive as hell. Better than demon blood – her hands in his hair, trying to pull him off, while begging him. Just flat out begging, not to stop, not to go faster. Just like a prayer. 'Oh Sam, Sam! This, Sam – please… please Sam!' At the time, he had thought it was her begging him to send her over the edge again, and he had humped his dick into the mattress and came like a stupid teenager with his first girlfriend. But she had been trying to get him out from between her legs. His sober mind knew she was trying to be virtuous. She didn't want the magically compelled sex.

His dick twitched as he pulled his pants down. God, her taste was still on his mind after all this time. When he jacked off, he thought about how much he wanted to taste her again. He wondered if things would be different now that he wasn't high as a kite with that love potion. And screw it! It was his damn head, his dick, and if he wanted to think about her while getting himself off, that was his own business.

Thinking about her lush lips skimming down his chest, flicking his nipple with her tongue before coming back up and crushing his lips. The way her body melted into him. Her hair spread over his shoulder as she laid her head on him to fall asleep holding on his waist, leg thrown over his. She was exactly his match in the sleep cuddling department. Full contact, full time.

And when he'd woken up after tasting her, hard again, he had been spooning her small body. His dick was hard against her firm ass, his fingers cupping her breast. God, her breasts where a perfect fit in his large hands. He had started roll her nipple between his fingers through the thin cotton of her nightdress. Her sleepy little breathless sounds had started his hips rocking into her bottom. She'd woken up moments later and trying to leave, but his hands had held her hips.

It briefly occurred to Sam that he might have a kink about waking women up with sex. Was that a thing? Whatever, he'd only done that to Becky, so it probably was an effect of the potion

God – the words he'd whispered into her ear. About how much he wanted to lay her out on the bed; he wanted her screaming his name. She'd let out a startled moan as her hips thrust back into his. He kept talking to her. Whispering about how good she smelled. How he wanted her sitting in his lap riding him, her breasts bouncing, head thrown back, and yelling herself hoarse.

He had come against her back moaning her name and kissing her neck. She had run into the bathroom to change her clothing and shower. He hadn't thought about it at the time, but she'd locked the door. God, even when being an evil stalker fangirl, she'd tried to be a good person.

He picked up his pace and started stripping his cock with harsh strokes. That edge of pain, of wildness and forbidden. Sam bit his lip as he came on his chest with her name swallowed under the moan.

Fucking Becky Rosen Winchester.

After cleaning himself up, he grabbed his phone.

Not sorry anymore? –S

Sam? –B

Yep –S

Of course I am. My therapist said I should leave you alone. –B

I don't like your therapist –S

You don't know him –B

Him? He was trying to get Becky to leave him alone. Asshole. What the hell did that idiot even know about their relationship? He certainly didn't know what Sam did for a living or about the demon or any of the books. Well, maybe the books.

Shouldn't you ask me if I want to be left alone? –S

There was no response. Sam waited a few minutes before deciding to go grab a beer. Ew, Cas and Dean were cuddling on the sofa. They needed their own house - maybe even their own county. He wanted Dean to be happy, and Cas was perfect for him, but there was just TMI with the light bulbs. He did not need to know every time Cas got off. Just… Ew. We could barely make eye contact with either of them lately without his cheeks flaming bright red and Dean oh so helpfully pointing it out.

He snuck past them and went back upstairs. She still had not replied. Damn it.

Becky? –S

Who is this? –B

It's Sam. –S

No, it's not. I don't know why you took his phone, but please leave me alone. You don't even know how cruel it is to tease me like this. I am trying to get over that part of my life. –B

Oh. Sam hadn't thought about it like that. While he was fantasizing about Becky riding him to save a couple of horses, she was trying to forget him.

It is Sam. You had white roses, your wedding band was a plain gold one, and you tweeted walking out of the chapel after marrying me. You hog tied me to a bed and I secretly thought it was a little hot. –S

Oh –B

Oh? –S

I'm sorry –B

You okay? –S

Of course. –B

She was lying. Sam had no idea how he knew, but she was. And he couldn't even figure out why he cared.

Without pausing to consider the wisdom of it, he dialed her number.

"- Hello?" came the hesitate voice from the other end. Yeah, she'd been crying.

"Come on Becks, don't cry," he spoke softly, like they didn't have this messed up history.

"Why are you calling me Sam?" she asked quietly, clearly trying to control the quiver in her voice.

"I – I'm not sure honestly," Sam knew it sounded lame. "Where are you?"

"My bedroom?" It was said like a question.

"I mean, what city," Sam clarified.

"Oh. I'm in Jefferson City, Missouri staying with my cousin for a while. I got a job, and he needed a roommate," Becky said, clearly more comfortable with that.

"Yeah, that's not that far – like four hours," Sam said as he mentally laid a route out.

"Only you would think four hours wasn't far away," she let a little laugh escape.

"Well, you know me –," Sam said.

"Yeah. Um. I never actually… I am so sorry Sam. I really am. I feel so awful. I messed up so bad, and everything that happened. I never should have even gone through with it. And I just – I feel like I… God I am so sorry. It was bad enough that I kissed you, but then everything else that we did. I just can't believe I did that. I feel so dirty and like I should go turn myself in to the police or something. That's why I'm seeing my therapist – Dr. Katz."

"I'm not sure you remember…" Sam tried to interject while she was still in full-apology mode. It didn't work so well.

"Oh I do. I took full advantage of your state. And I am so sorry Sam. I just can't even believe I did that. Those things were wrong and it wasn't – I stole your freedom and your ability to say no. Sam, I all but raped you. And I just can't…" She broke off in full blown sobs. Well hell. In his mind she had always been merciless crazy Becky with the smoking hot ass. He'd never even thought about how the fall-out from that shit had affected her. But – she'd made the right choices in the end. And she'd killed to save him.

Not a whole hell of a lot of people he knew could say somebody had killed to save them. Well, yes – okay he actually knew a lot of people who killed to save people. And they actually did it a lot. Fuck, his best friends, family, and role models were all serial killers, but Becky was a normal girl who had made her first kill to save him. That was a big fucking deal.

"Hey, Becks?" Sam asked when her diatribe finally tapered off.

"Yeah, I'm so-" she started again with a sniffle.

"Wanna' go out to dinner on Friday?" he blurted out.

Complete silence. Sam didn't even hear her breathing. Shit, did his phone drop the call? Glancing down he saw it was almost full bars and still connected to the call.

"Why?" she blurted out. "I mean, why would you even want to see me again?"

"I dunno', but I just really think we should have dinner on Friday, that's all," God, Dean was going to fucking go nuts. Sam might actually be nuts. This was the girl who had drugged him and wrote fiction about him fucking his brother. And who looked at him like he hung the moon, and killed a demon, and refused to run to safety, and lied her way into getting another demon into a devil trap she set on fire, and who made the sweetest sounds when she came, and tasted like heaven. And who had been apologizing for months and months and was even looking for help to deal with her guilt over her actions.

"Oh." Becky finally said.

"So, yes? No?" Sam started fidgeting. He was actually nervous, and he hadn't been nervous around girls since high school.

"I don't think so Sam," she said quietly. Shit! She was dating somebody? Or she didn't like him anymore. That fucking Dr. Katz. Sam pulled his laptop over and started searching for that quack doctor.

"Why not?" he all but snarled. "Are you seeing somebody?"

"No," she said it so softly Sam wasn't sure if she was telling the truth.

"If you're seeing that psycho shrink of yours Becks, I swear I'm going to gank him," Sam's voice rose.

"Sam, he's older than my father. No. I'm not seeing anybody. I just don't even understand why you called," she replied and Sam took a deep breath. What. The. Fuck. What was going on with him?

"Look, unless you actively hate me now, I'm coming to take you to dinner on Friday. We can go get Chinese, ok?" He remembered her ordering some in Vegas.

"I don't hate you, of course not-"

"Then 7, okay? Text me the address to pick you up, alright?"

"Um, yeah. Okay," she sounded a little like a truck that hit her. Sam felt more than a little smug about that.

"See you Friday Becks – sleep tight," he said with a grin and hung up after her confused little night-night Sam.

A minute later Sam was pacing his room. What the hell. Seriously, he wasn't even sure what had just happened. He never had to force a girl into a date like that, and he never thought he would want a date with his #1 fangirl! Becky Rosen. Winchester.

Well, Sam was anything but normal. His girlfriends were either burned on the ceiling, evil with addicting demon blood, or died in other various twisted ways. And he'd been a vessel for the source of evil AND pissed off Heaven and Hell. Plus, he was technically a serial killer and had been on the FBIs most wanted list. So, trying to get a date with his ex-stalker was actually pretty normal considering his track record.

Plus, he had a feeling Becky wouldn't blink twice at bloody pants or living in the bunker. Not that he was thinking about forever, but still.

S-S-S-S-S

This was Dean's least favorite part of hunting. You would think it was getting the snot kicked out of him or witches. While witches sucked and he seriously hated them, at least they weren't bone meltingly dull.

"Cutie?" Cas asked.

"Like an orange or a baby? No." Dean replied shifting in his seat again.

He and Cas sat in the car watching an old building. They were waiting for signs that the local demon that had been harvesting virgins had returned. It seemed to show up every full moon. Tonight was the night before the full moon, but you never knew when demons would show up.

"Sugar Daddy?"

"Dude! Do you even know what that means?" Dean looked at his angel and knew from the look on his face he didn't. "Just, no. Not that one – you know you don't have to have a nickname for me, right?"

"So you have stated before. Stud?"

"Pass," was all Dean said as he swallowed the weary sigh he felt bubble up.

"Cowboy?" Cas asked.

"That's not awful, but it doesn't really sound like a pet name. Sounds like a job, ya' know?" Dean explained while looking out the window. So boring.

"I only have four more: Cuddlebug, Honey Bunny, Muffin, or Romeo." Cas turned and looked expectantly at Dean.

"No, absolutely not, that's a breakfast food, and I knew a guy named Romeo so that would be fucked up," Dean winked. "How about staying away from food in general?"

"That sounds like a reasonable request," Cas said before lapsing into a comfortable silence.

Well, comfortable for the angel anyway. Dean was restless. He wanted to talk about those pictures. Fuck! He wanted to talk about his feelings about the pictures – He might as well sit here and start planning the flowers and color scheme for his wedding. Jesus, when did he become a girl like Sam?

Dean kept stealing glances at his angel and running through various ways to start the conversation he needed to have. Things would have been simpler if Cas had been acting like guilty, like he knew he'd been wrong to start that shit. But he was just sitting there like nothing in the world was wrong.

Shake it off Winchester. Man up and ask your angel what he was doing sending you photos like that.

Cas, No more sexy pictures – I like them. That sounded stupid.

Dude, you broke your promise! – Only, Cas hadn't promised to not send photos. In fact, Dean was having trouble remembering exactly what Cas had promised.

So, when we agreed to back off, what did you say exactly? I wasn't paying attention - That had the potential for an argument that would end in Dean being the asshole. It was true of course, but still.

I have an idea! Why don't we go over the exact terms again? Just for fun – That might work if Cas were stupid. Which, unfortunately, he wasn't.

He was screwed. He remembered agreeing to kiss Cas sometimes. Sweet kisses. And he remembered feeling like he had won, but Cas had agreed awfully easily in hindsight.

"Dean, just ask. Whatever you are thinking about is causing you to be restless. It is distracting," Cas said not taking his eyes off the warehouse.

"Right. I thought we were on the same page! And then you sent me all those pictures – which by the way babe, super-hot – but we agreed damn it!" Dean felt lost.

"Did you enjoy them?" the angel asked; his smile showed how badly he wanted Dean's approval.

"They were great Cas – Happy Anniversary to you too," Dean winked at his boyfriend/partner/boy toy.

"Did you keep them?" Cas asked looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Of course I did!" Dean exclaimed. Like he would be deleting the best spank material he'd ever seen.

"Have you looked at them again," Cas was weirdly excited about those pictures. Dean had to think for a second if he was missing anything in this conversation.

"Yeah, I may have glanced a time or two," Dean hedged.

"Would you like more? I can take more. I found it very liberating to photograph myself when I was aroused. I understand why the pizza man did not mind the cameras filming him during sex. We could do that together if you wish," Cas' smile was bordering on a leer. Holy Shit. His angel was thinking about making actual porn now. With him. And fuck if Dean's cock didn't think that was an excellent idea.

"We agreed no sex remember – and those photos were over the line babe," Dean said as his dick tried to stage a revolt and take over his mouth. Could a penis actually possess a person and force them to say things?

"Actually, no; we agreed to no making out, no sexual touching, and no dating other people until a solution or of resolution is found," Cas repeated the agreement much to Dean's relief. Fuck.

"I think we should add no photos. Taking naked pictures of yourself surely isn't going to help you with the Grace supply thing, right?"

"I don't feel any different today, so I don't think you're correct. But if you would rather I not do that again until this situation is sorted out, I will agree to your new condition. Of course, you will have to make a concession as well," Cas offered.

"Like what?" Dean was damned if he wouldn't get all the fine print this time.

"Nothing too onerous. I would simply like to have the no sexual touching thing defined. Am I allowed to hug you? Can we hold hands?" Cas asked.

"Of course we can do that stuff," Dean had to remind himself over and over again that no matter how hot Cas was in bed, he was still new to this.

"So, it is more like no sexual touching 'below the belt'," Cas used the stupid air quotes. "And in exchange, I agree to not send naked pictures via text messaging."

"Yeah, that sounds about right, only you have to agree to no naked pictures via text OR email. And no printing them out. You know what, no pictures at all." Dean couldn't remember the last time he had worked this hard to deny himself sexually.

"As you wish. No pictures, except of animals doing cute things," Cas bargained.

"Okay, but no animal sex Cas – okay? Absolutely no animal sex pictures. Okay? Agreed?" Dean felt panic rise in his chest. Cas could be kinda' weird sometimes, and Dean's dick would fall off and run away if he started getting horse cock in his inbox.

"Agreed. Is this the time we kiss to seal the new agreement?" Cas smiled at him and maybe it was the moonlight, but Dean felt himself smiling in return. This angel was just perfect in about every single way Dean could think of.

"Ah…" Dean rubbed the back of his neck before nodding.

Cas looked around the front seat and said, "I think we should sit in the back."

"No way man. The back seat is just asking for trouble," Dean shook his head.

"Hmm," Cas looked between them and bit his lip while thinking. Damn it – Dean was in so much trouble.

"Come here," Dean put his hand on the back of Cas' neck and pulled him into a closed mouth kiss. Before Dean could start to pull away, Cas let out a little whimper in the back of his throat. It sounded needy and went straight through Dean.

Dean twisted in his seat and wrapped another arm around the angel, pulling him closer. Cas moved his body as close as the confines of the Impala would allow and rested his hands on Dean's chest as he leaned his body weight on the hunter.

"Baby," was all Dean could get out. Cas' flicked his tongue out and slowly licked the seam of Dean's lips. Instead of opening his mouth and plundering his angel's sweet mouth, Dean kissed his way across Cas' jawline until he could nip at the angel's earlobe. Cas' fingers dug into Dean's shirt.

"Dean – more," Cas begged in a half broken voice. Dean awkwardly reached under his seat and pulled the bar that let the seat slide all the way back. He pulled Cas into his lap as far as he possibly could; Dean was sure the wheel was digging into the small of Cas' back, but it didn't seem to put a damper on the kiss.

Cas allowed his body to be moved by the hunter and damn if the willingness to submit didn't make Dean fucking hot. All that badass soldier doing exactly what Dean wanted, fluid movements, compliance, and obeying Dean's every whim. Fuck, he could make Cas slow down and just kiss. Not like kissing was actually making out, right?

"Back seat, but remember – nothing below the waist, ok?" Dean growled as Cas quickly nodded. Dean opened the door and got out with Cas scrambling over the seat and getting out on the same side. Before Dean could even open the back door, Cas had the hunter pinned against the car.

The strangled moan Cas let loose as he pressed himself flush against Dean tore through the night.

"Quiet Cas, we're looking for that demon man," Dean knew as soon as he said it Cas probably had it covered.

"Nothing in a few square miles of us except a man walking a dog. The man wants to go back inside and the dog wants to find the bitch in heat that he's caught wind of," Cas whispered against Dean's neck before kissing the skin.

"Ah," was all Dean managed. Fuck. Their groins were pressing together, each circling and grinding.

"Baby, we can't do this…" Dean begged as Cas brought his arms around the hunter's neck.

"It is a hug. A modified hug, combined with a kiss, and no hands below the waist," Cas reasoned.

Dean let out an unbelieving snort before grabbing Cas' arms and pulling them around and holding them pinned at the small of his back.

"Just to make sure you follow the rules," Dean explained before he pressed his lips against his angel's. "Fuck you taste good – missed this."

Cas thrust his hips and Dean could feel the full hard length straining against his hip. He tightened his hold on Cas, wrists and moaned. His traitorous pelvis rolled against the hard line of Cas' cock, bringing Dean's already half hard dick to full attention.

With a quick twist, Cas freed himself and grabbed the sides of Dean shirt and started to pull.

"No babe," Dean mumbled as he grabbed his angel's arms again and flipped them around; Cas now had his arms pinned behind his body and pressed against the car.

Their lips collided with hungry kisses; each demanding more and more from the other as the night got colder. Cas' body arched into Dean in a sinuous roll causing the hunter to gasp.

"Shit Cas – Fuck," was all he could get out before he started flat out rocking his fully clothed cock against the angel's.

S-S-S-S-S-S

"Aren't supposed to do this," Dean growled. Cas heard the beginnings of anger in Dean's voice. Not anger at Cas, but fury as himself for being weak and giving in. The guilt would make Cas' plans harder. So Cas pulled back.

He pulled his wrists free and placed a hand on either of Dean's shoulders as he took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the hunter's shoulder in a sign of contrition.

"I am sorry. I got carried away and violated our agreement," Cas took all the blame on himself. He felt it was more mutual agreement to violate the agreement, but pointing that out would not serve his greater cause.

Everything was about Cas' end goal of victory over Dean's insistence that being apart would return Cas to the Host in full. The photos? He had toyed with different approaches and found the same flaw in each one. Dean would not look at the photos due to his resolve to 'help' Cas. Therefore, Cas had simply provided a secondary bit of information to overwhelm the first issue with a second and more immediate problem.

Dean had forgotten an anniversary. Every man knew that was about the worst thing ever; there had been no way Dean would turn down Cas' gift of photos in that context. It had worked like a charm. And the coda to that little plan was this – there was no anniversary, and Dean would never know because he couldn't admit to Cas that he had no clue. Elegant and simple with very few variables. It had worked perfectly.

S-S-S-S-S-S

AN –

Opening quote: The Cure "Just Like Heaven". I always wondered what the trick he wanted to see that made her laugh AND scream was. ;)

Dr. Katz – Extra rock salt for you if you got the reference.

Sammy and Becky – Not your usual ship I'm sure, but sometimes it's fun to see what happens on another cruise line. I can cut it short if you, the dear reader, really dislike it. Just know, it's an entertaining little side story while our main two lover boys get their collective shit together ;)

Thoughts?