Here it is! An extra-long FINAL chapter! And don't worry, this is not the end of Dean and Melinda's saga. Or Peyton and Sam's, either. The next part of their story will be coming up soon. I want to say thank you to all the readers who have stuck around, waiting (sometimes not so patiently!) for me to wrap this story up. Thanks again for reading, and I'll see you next time! ;)

**Nothing from Charmed or Supernatural belongs to me.**

Chapter Twenty-Five

*The Honeymoon*

Sam felt disgusting as he walked into the hotel room. A freak rain shower had come along halfway into his run, after he'd puked yet again, getting him nice and chilled, soaked to the damn bone, before the sun had come back out with a vengeance. He felt grimy, greasy, maybe a little sunburnt, and let's not even mention the sweat. His hair was dripping wet, and it wasn't from the rain. And for the love of all things holy, he could smell himself, so the first thing he'd be doing was hitting the shower. Might not even take his shorts and shoes off first. He stepped into the room, hearing a moan from the bathroom. He didn't really think as he shut the door behind him, striding across the room and pushing the door to the bathroom open.

"Peyton?"

She moaned from her spot on the floor. She had one arm propped up on the toilet, holding her head in her hand. She wouldn't look at him, and he sighed as he walked over to sit on the edge of the tub. Peyton let out another moan.

"Goddamn, you stink."

Sam laughed, but that trailed off as Peyton threw up again. He reached over, taking her hair in his big hands and holding it out of her face. She was gripping the toilet, tears rolling down her cheeks. She finally collapsed against the tub, leaning over on Sam's leg. He bent, resting his forearms on his knees for a second before running a hand through Peyton's curls.

"I thought you said I stink."
"You're all I got right now."

Sam laughed, gently moving the curls out of Peyton's eyes. Peyton's dark, bloodshot, oh-so-pitiful eyes. He smiled at her, while she laid her head on his knee.

"How the fuck did you go run?"

Sam smiled, still running his fingers through Peyton's curls. Her hair was so soft.

"I forced myself."
"I think I'd rather just die. Actually, that doesn't sound like the worst thing right now."

Sam laughed to himself.

"Hey, here's an idea. Let me get a shower, and I'll—"

Peyton groaned, turning back to the toilet.

"Seriously? How long have you been in here?"
"When—oh God—when did you leave?"
"Like two hours ago."
"Hour and a half, maybe?"

Sam blew out his breath, and Peyton leaned back.

"Okay. False alarm."

She scooted back, just a little bit, then laid down on the floor. It was cool, blessedly cool, and Peyton closed her eyes as she curled up into a little ball. Sam turned the shower on, tossing his shorts to the corner of the room, away from Peyton, and he took the quickest shower he remembered ever taking, smiling when he heard Peyton get up and brush her teeth. He let the cool water run for a minute, then turned the hot water up, running a warm bath for Peyton. He leaned over, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He pulled back the shower curtain, and that was when he realized Peyton was wrapped in the sheet from the bed. He smiled at the sight of her bare back, golden even in the dim, crappy light of the bathroom. He bent, running his hand along her hairline.

"Peyton? Honey, you okay?"

She blinked her eyes open, looking pitiful, but so very beautiful. Sam kept touching her, because he honestly couldn't help it, and she slowly sat up, with his help. She let out a groan as Sam helped her to her feet, leaning into him as he held a big hand to the back of her head. He walked her over to the tub, looking into her eyes as he pulled the sheet away from her. He helped her step into the tub, looking back with surprise when she kept hold of his hand. He looked from their hands to her face, and she gave him a little smile.

"Stay with me?"

Sam smiled, nodding as she turned away from him, sitting in the tub. He blew out his breath, laying the towel from his waist on the closed toilet, then sinking in behind her. She let out a sigh, settling back against him, her head on his shoulder, and Sam sighed, too.

I love you. I love you so much.

He wanted to say it so badly. He knew he'd messed up; what kind of an idiot would pick a damn demon over Peyton? He could blame it on the demon blood addiction, but a few weeks back, he'd decided he wanted to try something crazy: taking responsibility for his own actions. He'd meant to try and take it slow with her, work to get her forgiveness, get her to trust him again, before he took her to bed. It hadn't exactly worked out that way.

Damn him and his stupid Winchester luck.

"Where are you, Sammy?"

He smiled, moving a hand to her hair.

"I'm here."

Peyton sighed, leaning back into him, letting her arms come up and float on the water. Sam made her smile when he reached his arms out, linking hands with her under the water. Peyton let out another sigh, keeping hold of Sam's hands. He moved closer to her, wrapping his long body around her, making her eyes drift shut.

"How you feeling, Peyt?"

She made a little noise, and he smiled. He moved, pressing a kiss to her temple, and Peyton leaned back into it. She let go of his hands, leaning up to grip the edge of the tub. Sam sat up, afraid she might be sick again, caught completely off-guard when she turned around, water splashing over the side of the tub as she wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his neck. Sam let out a breath as Peyton relaxed a bit, bringing her knees up around his hips, and Sam put his arms around her, leaning back as she snuggled in closer.

"That's better."

She breathed the words into his neck, and Sam just tightened his grip on her, moving a hand up to tangle in her hair. They stayed like that, Sam just holding her, until the water turned cold.

She'd fallen asleep again in the bathtub, all snuggled up to Sam's warm body. She slept through him letting the water drain out, lifting her in his arms, carrying her back to the bed. And when she finally did wake up, it was dark outside. And miracle of miracles, her hangover seemed to have all but disappeared. She stretched her arms and legs, feeling a crack deep in her spine, and she let out a breath. She also realized that she was still all snuggled up with Sam. She was on her stomach, practically on top of him, using his chest as a pillow. He had one hand in her hair, the other loose around her waist. Their legs were tangled together, and Peyton let out a breath as Sam mumbled in his sleep. He shifted in the bed, tightening his hold on her.

My God, she'd forgotten about this. Sam Winchester was a cuddler. His arms and legs were so damn long, and everywhere all at once. He was like an octopus. Once he had you wrapped up, effectively trapping you, there was no getting out.

Christ, she'd missed him.

Peyton moved closer, letting out a breath when Sam tightened his hold on her again. Her face was in his neck, and she let out a shuddering sigh. Sam whispered her name, but she couldn't look at him. If he was awake… She shook her head as she pressed her lips to his warm skin, feeling a shudder go through him.

"Peyton."

She let out a moan when she heard him say her name, in that tone. She lifted her face, eyes closed, covering Sam's lips with her own. His hands were in her hair as she moved to straddle his stomach, bracing her hands on his wide, muscled chest. Everywhere she touched, muscles bunched under her fingers, pulling tight as Sam sucked in a breath. Every exhalation was her name, breathy and barely audible. His hands slid down to grip her hips, and Peyton lifted her mouth from his to let out a long, drawn-out moan. Something sounding like his name kept falling from her lips, and Sam sat up, pulling her against his chest, flipping their positions and effortlessly sliding into her. Peyton's hands tightened on his arms, her nails digging into his biceps, and Sam hissed out a breath. He rolled his hips as Peyton gasped, arching up off the bed, seeking him, any way to get closer. He slid his hands through the sheets, across the mattress until he found her hands. She gripped him back with all her might, and as Sam tried to bite back a moan, the words he'd been trying to hold back came spilling out.

"Christ, Peyton, I love you. God, I love you so much."

She just shattered, coming apart, falling to pieces beneath him. He bent to press his lips to hers, swallowing the harsh sounds she was making, and she ripped her hands from his to tangle in his hair, holding his head in place, keeping his lips locked with hers. His release came almost without warning, ripping through him hard, leaving him breathless, and he took his mouth away from hers as he let out a silent scream through clenched teeth before he collapsed onto her. He was panting like a damn dog, his face in her neck. A fine sheen of sweat covered both of their bodies, but Sam couldn't move. He never wanted to move. Sleep snuck in on him, taking him away before he could hear Peyton's whispered words.

"I love you too, Sam. Damn you, I love you, too."

Melinda smiled as she shifted on the lounge chair. It had been two days since the wedding, and she was loving every minute of this little vacation/honeymoon. She wore a bright red bikini, for the sole reason that wearing red put a fire in Dean's eyes that sent shivers all up and down her spine. There was a floppy hat on her head, big sunglasses on her face, and the sun was shining down on her. Everything was perfect. She felt someone come up behind her, and she opened her eyes to see her husband setting a margarita down beside her, his wedding ring glittering in the sunshine. She smiled, pushing her hat back to look up at him. He bent to kiss her, his lips lingering on hers in a way that made her entire body relax. He pulled back with a smile, knowing exactly the effect that kiss had on her.

"Thought you might could use a drink."
"I might could use a little something else, you know."

Dean laughed, moving to stand in front of her, lifting his shirt over his head, making the muscles in his stomach, back, and arms do very interesting things. There were hickeys all over his chest and abdomen, places where Melinda couldn't help but stake her claim. Her body looked quite similar, as though a greedy Dean couldn't help but mark up every bit of skin he could. Melinda swallowed, taking a long sip of her margarita. She set it back down with a hiss. Dean smiled.

"Good?"
"Little heavy on the tequila there, babe."
"But that's how you like it."
"I know. I just wasn't expecting it. Come sit with me. We can watch the waves."

She smiled up at him, and he bent to where they were face-to-face.

"If I were to sit with you, we wouldn't watch anything."
"Exactly. We could use this chair for something much more enjoyable than laying out."

Dean smiled, standing back to his full height.

"I distinctly remember something about you needing to get a tan, so I was not to bother you unless it was to bring you a drink."
"I changed my mind. Come on, Dean!"

He laughed, enjoying this little moment of pure teasing.

"I think I'm going for a swim. Gotta stay in shape, you know."
"God, you're such an asshole."

Dean threw his head back laughing as Melinda flopped back on the chair. He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"You could always join me, you know."
"I've got to get some color on this pasty white skin. Remember?"

He laughed again as she crossed her arms over her chest. He walked off, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that was telling him to go back, give in to her, do all the things he wanted to do to her out in the sunshine. But he knew, if he could only be patient, the result would be … Incredible wasn't a good enough word. He glanced back as Melinda flipped over, getting some sun on her back. The margarita was half-empty, half the salt gone from around the rim. That led him to imagine Melinda licking it off, which led to him imagining Melinda licking other things…

He groaned as he dove headfirst into the blessedly cold water.

She let him swim for an hour, while she sipped her margarita and flipped through magazines. Well, she tried to flip through magazines, but when Dean Winchester was diving, swimming around like he was freakin' Michael Phelps, looking over at her, smiling while water glistened in his hair and dripped down his chest… Well, no one could blame her for the blatant eye-fucking she was doing. After that hour was up, she smiled, laying the magazine aside and removing her hat and sunglasses.

Two can play at this game.

Dean looked over to her, stopping what he was doing as she shook out her hair, wavy blonde bouncing around her shoulders. She gave him a smile as he jogged up the beach, dripping water everywhere. He smiled back, lifting a towel to wipe at his face.

"What's up?"

Melinda glanced out at the water.

"Oh, I'm thinking about going for a swim. Care to join me?"

Dean's grin spread across his face.

"I don't know. I've been going pretty hard here for, like, an hour."

Melinda pushed her bottom lip out, a move that made Dean want to grab her, pull her to him, and suck on that lip. He bit his instead, until Melinda shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, well. Maybe next time, then."

She turned, walking towards the water, and Dean's mouth dried up when her hands drifted back, tugging on the strings of her bikini top. She untied the one around her back, reaching up to undo the one around her neck when Dean found his voice, and she stopped.

"Mel, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

She grinned, letting the smile fall as she turned back to face him, her face entirely innocent.

"What?"
"You can't take your top off."
"Why not? Because of all the people?"

Melinda gestured with one arm, using the other to keep her top in place. She stepped closer to him as he crowded her, biting back her smile.

"Listen. I am on a practically deserted island with my husband, on our honeymoon. The closest person around is … A very long way from here."

She stepped even closer, looking up at him as he swallowed, hard.

"And I've never been skinny dipping."

She turned, walking away from him, and she only used a little bit of magic when she let go of her top, causing it to float back and wrap around his face. Dean clutched the material in his fist, watching as she wiggled out of her bottoms, then dropped it, leaving his swim trunks behind as he ran up on her, making her laugh as he lifted her into his arms, diving with her under the water.

They got out of the water after the sting ray swam by. Melinda was on Dean's back, peering over his shoulder as he laughed. They hurried up the beach when the thunder sounded, gathering up their things, barely making it inside before the flood came. It rained the rest of that day, and Melinda cooked supper, lasagna that Dean nearly made himself sick on. And when dinner was over, the kitchen all cleaned up, Dean walked over, taking the wine glass out of her hand, leading her out onto the porch. She smiled.

"Have we come to watch the rain?"

Lightning flashed then, making Melinda move closer to Dean, who smiled as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

"We could, if you wanted. Or …"

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. He walked a little ways, stopping around the corner of the porch, where she gasped.

"Or I could make love to my wife, out here in the rain."

A blanket was spread out close to the house. Candles of all shapes and sizes had been placed around, bathing the porch in gentle, flickering light. The rain steadily fell, thunder crashed. Melinda met his eyes again, letting out a breath.

"Oh, Dean."

He smiled at her, gently pushing her forward as she stepped over to the blanket. He stepped behind her, running his hands from her shoulders down her arms.

"What do you think?"

His voice was gentle, quiet, and she felt him breathing against her neck. A shudder went through her, and Dean smiled as he turned his nose to her hair.

"It's perfect."
"You're perfect."

She slid her eyes shut as he pressed his lips to her neck. Melinda let out a breath as she let a hand come up, sliding her fingers through his hair. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her to him, pressing her back against his chest. She let out a moan, turning around to catch Dean's mouth with her own. His hands came up into her hair, fingers ghosting across the tattoo on the back of her neck, just to remind her that he never forgot about it, and her knees buckled. She fell against him, literally, and he caught her. Like it was nothing at all, his hands were splayed across her back, holding her upright. She felt him smile against her mouth as one of his hands drifted lower, and she gasped as he laid his palm against her hip.

"Dean! Oh—oh God."

He kept on smiling, kept kissing her, and she felt herself being lowered onto the blanket. She went with it because she trusted him, and when he'd laid her down, he sat up on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head. He groaned, because she was immediately sitting up, her mouth and tongue all over his chest.

"Damn, Mel."

He groaned again, running his fingers through her hair. She went up on her knees right beside him, and he, in one swift move, removed the little sundress she'd slipped on before she cooked for him. He let out another moan when he realized she hadn't bothered to slip on a bra, and his mouth went straight there. Melinda bit her lip and whimpered, and Dean pulled back, looking down at her with a smile.

"You don't have to be so quiet, honey. The rain'll drown you out."
"What, so nobody can hear us? Oh God, right there."

Dean met her mouth again, reaching down to slide a hand beneath her panties. She was clawing at his arms, his shoulders, and he fixed his mouth at her throat. He knew he'd leave another mark on her skin, but damn it, he couldn't help himself. Thing was, they'd gotten to a point of unspoken understanding, where when he'd leave a mark against her skin, she'd find some way to repay him. If anyone could see them, the bruises all over the both of them… Dean just shook his head. No one could understand.

Melinda kept biting her lip, her hips canting up of their own volition, until Dean let out a ragged sigh, rocking back to undo his jeans. Melinda sat up, swatting his hands away to do it herself. Dean was panting, hands gripping whatever he could hold onto, which happened to be a table on the porch. He was leaning back against it, his head falling back as harsh breaths heaved out of his chest, as Melinda slowly, slowly slid the zipper of his jeans down, tooth by tooth. She'd noticed, as soon as she'd taken hold of his jeans, that Dean had gone commando after their little afternoon romp. When the zipper was down, Melinda snaked a hand inside, barely brushing her fingertips over his length.

"Goddamn it, Mel. You're driving me—shit. Oh, shit. Mel."

As her mouth closed around him, Dean squeezed his eyes shut, moaning something he meant to be her name, but turned out to be unintelligible. He tangled one hand in her hair, because he couldn't help but touch her, and when she let out a hum, Dean let out a strangled-sounding laugh.

"No. No, just—fuck. Mel, baby, stop."

She smiled as she looked up at him, keeping one hand wrapped around him, slowly dragging her fist up and down.

"You didn't want me to stop this afternoon. In the ocean, remember?"
"Of course I—fuck, Melinda. That was different."

He was panting, sweat glittering on his chest in the candlelight, and she smiled as she moved up to kiss his mouth, these sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, as she kept stroking him. As thunder crashed around them, he finally reached down, his hand shaking, and pulled her fist from him.

"Baby, you got to stop."

He leaned down, resting his forehead on hers, breathing like a damn freight train, and Melinda just smiled. Her hands came up to gently rub his face.

"Easy, honey. Just take it easy."

Dean groaned again, and Melinda caught his lips in an easy kiss. He kissed from her mouth to her cheek, whispering in her ear.

"Lay back."

She did, feeling his strong hands behind her, lowering her back to the blanket. She opened her eyes to see him above her, smiling as he bent to brush her lips with his. She took in a long, slow gasp as he slowly slid inside her.

"Dean."

Thunder rumbled loud enough to shake the house, but neither one of them noticed. The wind blew in a different direction, sending rain under the porch awning, making Melinda close her eyes as she felt the drops on her face. She reached up, wrapping her arms around Dean's neck as he leaned closer, pressing his lips to hers. She moaned out his name, feeling her skin warm, and she tightened her grip on him.

"Oh my—oh, god."

Dean laid his lips on her neck as her body tightened almost painfully, as she dug her nails into his shoulders. She let out a scream that was muffled by the thunder that roared through the sky. Her arms loosened around him, but he kept moving, kept thrusting into her, slow and deep, and she felt herself begin to climb again.

"Oh my… Dean."

His name was on her lips as she hit that peak again, her eyes squeezed shut, whimpering into his shoulder. Her arms slid from around him, the breath pouring from her chest. Still, he never stopped moving. She felt it begin again, that seemingly endless climb, and she realized those desperate, keening cries she kept hearing were coming from her lips. Dean said her name, in a harsh, gravelly voice, and she knew that this time would be it. She lifted her arms, even though they felt like they were filled with lead, and she looped them around his neck, her breath coming in sharp pants. She dug her nails into his shoulder blades as a fierce cry ripped through her, and Dean groaned out her name until, finally, his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of her.

Dean listened to the candles hiss as raindrops continued to fall on them, extinguishing their lights. He opened his eyes, watching as the porch grew darker and darker, matching the inky blackness around them. He let out a rumbled breath, stretching out.

"Mel? Honey, we should get inside."

He picked himself up on his arms, still shaky, mind you, looking down at her. He smiled, letting out a quiet laugh. She was sound asleep, cuddled up beneath him, in the warmth of his body, and she let out a sound when the cool breeze from the ocean rolled over them, sending raindrops with it. Dean sighed, getting to his feet, staggering just a little. He made sure his knees were as steady as they could be, and he bent down, gathering Melinda into his arms. He blew out the rest of the candles and carried Melinda inside, laying her in the big bed that was still unmade from their … endeavors the night before. She rolled onto her side when he laid her down, and she murmured his name in her sleep, reaching out across the bed. He smiled, lying beside her.

"I'm right here, baby. Right here."

She let out a sigh of what had to be contentment as he pulled her to him, and she curled up, using his chest as a pillow. He kept hold of her hand, tightening his grip on her when the thunder rolled outside and she moved closer to him.

Peyton woke up with the sun shining on her face. She knew before she even opened her eyes that Sam was gone. She sat up, blinking as she pulled the sheet around her, suddenly cold without Sam's warmth, pushing her hair back from her face. His bag was gone, the few things he'd had laying around weren't anymore. She glanced at the table across from her, saw her dress laying across the chair. But what made her smile was the flannel button-up neatly folded on the table.

When they were together, Peyton was forever stealing Sam's shirts. She would sleep in them, wear nothing but them to make him crazy. She crawled out of the bed and went to the table, sliding the shirt on. It swallowed her small frame, and it smelled just like him. She started to turn away, but she noticed a letter, with her name at the top in Sam's neat handwriting. She picked it up, dropping back to the bed as she read it.

Peyton,

By the time you wake up to read this, I'll be gone. I thought it might be better this way, even though I'm kicking myself in the ass as I write this. I want you to know that I don't regret anything that happened between us these past few days. I love you, and being with you is always what I want to do.

I know I've got so much that I need to make up for. I've got a lot that I wish I could change, but I know I can't. What's done is done, and now I need to work on getting your forgiveness for that. I know you wouldn't let me say it in person, but I need to tell you that I am so sorry for all I put you through. If I could go back… But I know I can't.

Peyton, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. And just like always, I screwed it up. What I'm asking of you is impossible, and I completely understand if you don't want the same things. But if you'll just give me a chance, I promise I won't let you down again. You mean everything to me, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to show that to you, if you'll only let me.

God, you're beautiful when you sleep. You're beautiful all the time, but there's just something about you when you're sleeping. You're relaxed, no worries, what I hope are pleasant dreams playing through your mind. As selfish as this sounds, I hope you dream of me. And I hope they're good, happy dreams.

I hate to leave you, but I know I have to. It's better this way. It has to be better this way, because it hurts so damn much. I'm not going to call you, even though I want to more than you know. I'm going to leave my phone on, and if you want, you can give me a call. I don't want to pressure you in any way. We can take this at your pace, however you want. Take all the time you need. I don't mind waiting, as long as it takes. I love you.

Sam

Tears rolled down Peyton's face, and a sob escaped her mouth as she laid the paper down. She propped her elbows on the table, holding her head in her hands, and she cried. She cried for what seemed like forever, until she was exhausted again. She gathered up her things, trusting that Sam had checked out of the room, and she closed her eyes, teleporting out of the motel to her apartment, where she simply climbed in her bed, pulling the covers over her head, shutting out everything except her mind, which was raging with only one thing.

Sam.

Five days after their wedding, Melinda was lying on her stomach on a towel, raking her fingers through the sand slowly, carving ridges, then filling them back up with sand. Dean was beside her, lying on his back, one hand tangled with hers. She'd taken her top off again, making him laugh and pull her to him, and she'd laid on top of him for what seemed like hours. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses, and she was fairly sure he was asleep.

She turned her head to the other side, catching a glimpse of him and smiling. He was so damn good-looking, and he was all hers. There were times she still couldn't believe it, times when he would walk in and catch her just staring at her rings. And there were times when she'd catch him rubbing his thumb over his ring, twisting it around. She took in a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh.

"What are you thinking about?"

Melinda smiled, a shiver running down her spine as she heard his deep, rumbly, sleep-heavy voice.

"You. How lucky I got. How if this is a dream, I don't ever want to wake up."

Dean smiled.

"I know how you feel. Come here."

He tugged on her hand and she crawled over, settling back on top of him. She laid her head on his chest and he ran his fingers up and down her spine. She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke softly.

"If I had any energy at all, I'd make a move on you right now."

Melinda let out a laugh, moving to prop her head on her hand as she looked at him. He hadn't bothered to shave that morning, because truth be told, they were both exhausted. She liked him like that, though, with a little stubble, making his almost-too-pretty face look just a bit edgier. She leaned up and kissed his chin.

"If I had any energy at all, I might let you."

He laughed, tightening his arms around her as she lay her head back on his chest. After a while, Melinda rolled off of him, lying on her back, and Dean flipped to his stomach. He was not trying to tan, and he'd beat the hell out of anyone who insinuated that he was. Rather, he was spending time with his wife as she was laying out. Truth be told, they were both simply too tired to do anything else.

Dean woke up when the sun was going down. He slipped the sunglasses off his face, letting out a yawn.

"Baby, we need to get up."

He looked over, seeing Melinda sound asleep beside him. He smiled, propping himself up on his arms, just looking at her. Her hair was fanned out around her head, shades brighter than it had been when they got to the island. She was tan, her golden skin making her hair seem even more blonde. Dean leaned over, gently pressing his mouth to hers until he felt her stir. He pulled back, running a hand over her cheek, and she smiled sleepily up at him.

"Hey, you."

Dean smiled.

"Hey back. It's late."

Melinda looked around, saw the sun sinking lower in the sky.

"We've been out here all day."

She yawned as she said it, going to sit up. Dean followed her, then pulled her against his chest. She laid her head on his shoulder, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Dean smiled, resting his head against hers.

"I wanted to do this, you know."
"What?"

She settled into his arms as he ran a hand through her hair.

"Watch the sun go down with you."

Dean smiled, tilting her chin up to him, where he could kiss her lips.

"Me, too."

She settled back against him, into the safe, warm circle of his arms. He ran his fingers through her hair as they watched the sun dip into the water, then disappear below it. Their time on the island was coming to an end, and soon they'd have to go back to the real world. They'd soon have to face the music, put a stop to the Apocalypse they'd unwittingly started.

But, for now, they could sit on the beach as it became bathed in darkness, until Melinda started to shiver and Dean helped her up, moving them inside. They had two more days of freedom, two days to pretend there was nothing in the world but the two of them, two days to lay around, relax, and make love to each other.

And that's exactly what they did.