Chapter 28

Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the attitude of your body, the soul is on its knees – Victor Hugo

S-S-S-S-S

When Sam left Dean and Cas at the bar, he'd started to call a cab until there was a very colorful curse coming from the parking lot caught his attention.

"Mother fucking sorry ass American piece of shit!" the girl kicked the tire. "Fuck you! You stupid whore of a car! Only putting out if I spend money on you!"

Sam grinned while trying to process a person with a dirtier mouth then even Bobby when he got seriously pissed. She was in her early twenties, short blond hair, and a rocking body.

"You know, my brother would drop dead right here if he heard you blaspheme American cars like that," Sam said making sure he didn't walk up to her – no need to scare the crap out of her.

"Well, if he loves pieces of crap like this, he can have it!" She kicked the tire again.

"Won't start?" Sam guessed.

"Oh, no. That was last month. This month it was a new water pump. Wait, new breaks and a water pump. New tires three months ago, and the month before that? Yeah, this son of a bitch," she kicked again. Sam wondered if you could break your toes on a tire. "this piece of shit son of a bitch decided it needed a new transmission! I should have junked it. Argh!"

Sam stepped over and saw her tire was flat. Seriously? Chick was all bent out of shape over a flat tire? That was like the first maintenance lesson you learned with cars. At least it was his. Dean taught him to drive when he was thirteen. It wouldn't do to get stuck just because you couldn't even change a tire.

Plus, Dean was very clear: If Sam couldn't change a tire he would have to turn his man card in forever. Sam had tried to point out that his man card (a) didn't exist because that was a stupid concept and (b) Sam was a man because of his DNA and no amount of stupid made up cards would change that. Dean had painted his fingernails bright red after Sam had fallen asleep that night, because if Sam wasn't going to change a tire he needed to at least have a good excuse like he'd just gotten his nails done.

"You want me to change it? Seriously, ten minutes and you're out of here," Sam offered.

"I fucking hate this damsel in distress crap. Really, I'm not a princess or anything. Yes, please?" she said with a sigh.

"Elizabeth by the way," she said holding her hand out.

"Sam," he replied as she popped her trunk. He started pulling up the floor to get the donut spare, tire iron, and jack out.

"Well Sam, does this town have anywhere to eat?" Elizabeth asked, and Sam looked up from where he was already grappling the lug-nuts off.

"Yeah, we have a couple. You're new around here?" he asked as the first one finally gave and came loose.

"Sorta'. Visited a lot when I younger with my aunt. She needed some help getting around after breaking her leg. Can't drive!" Elizabeth kicked the other tire this time. "Cars suck!"

Sam chuckled as he quickly loosened the rest before placing the jack under the support of the frame and started turning the crank.

"Wow – I thought you were bullshitting about the whole ten minute thing," Elizabeth said as the car rose up, and Sam started unscrewing the lug nuts by hand. He held them out to the outspoken young woman.

"You hold those, and I'll show you where the best diner is when you take me there for a burger," Sam winked at her before pulling the tire off. Without dropping it, he rose up and walked to the rear of the car. He placed it in the wheel well and a sudden realization settled over him. He had a date in two days with his wife. He couldn't pick up strange cussing cute co-eds.

"Yeah, sounds good. Just a word though – I'm not on the market." She raised her eyebrow.

Normally Sam would have just backed off and smiled his puppy eyed smile and spout off something cheesy like it was his loss. This time all he felt was relief.

"That's cool. I'm driving to Jefferson City Friday to spend the weekend with my wife," Sam's heart did a flip in his chest. His wife.

"And your wife is cool with you taking a girl out to eat after changing her tire?" Elizabeth didn't sound convinced.

"Honestly? We haven't been together long – we aren't even living in the same city yet. And… I wasn't even thinking, reflex I guess. For a second I was worried what would happen if you said yes," Sam pulled out his best 'ah, shucks' face. In truth, he really hadn't been thinking of it like that. Her lips quirked into an amused smile.

"Really?" Elizabeth clearly thought he was full of shit but was willing to play along.

"Wanna see our wedding picture?" Sam said as he pulled his phone out. He made sure she was watching as he hit the power button. On the lock screen was a picture of him in his suit, smiling like a fool in love. Next to him looking up at his face was Becky in her sleeveless white dress, the veil caressing over her shoulder and down the smooth lines of her perfect back. He'd put it up after asking her on a date. Or demanding a date. Whatever. There was actually a whole DVD of their wedding containing not just the video but pictures as well.

"Aww!" Elizabeth cooed instantly turning to mush. "That is so sweet! Is she pregnant? Shotgun? I mean you aren't living together so there has to be a story!"

"Um, not pregnant yet," he blushed. Wow – Becky pregnant. Her belly swelling – ice cream and pickles. Did she even like pickles? That seemed like something he should know. Did she want kids? Please let her want kids.

"So, why the rush to the alter?" Elizabeth all but bounced on her toes.

"You're going to think it's stupid, but it was true love. I couldn't not marry her," Sam didn't even have to lie.

"Okay, show me the diner. I'll buy you a burger, and you can explain why the love of your life isn't here with you. This is like a true life romance!" she did a little twirl.

As he double checked the tightness of the lug-nuts, he wondered if Dean had ever done something like this to pick up a woman. His brother was kind of an asshole and heartless in his methods of hooking up with one night stands.

S-S-S-S-S

Fuck my life.

Dean had to consider that he had done something profoundly evil in a past life. There was even the remote possibility that he had done something in a future life that was so evil that his past lives were pre-paying for that shit.

He moved his hips a little while his hands gripped Cas' waist firmly. He kept trying to lock his arms so Cas wouldn't press so close against him, but it was pretty useless. Cas was an angel and freaky strength seemed to be sticking around during this slow motion fall from grace.

"Come on Dean," his wasted angel whispered in his ear. A slow roll of slim hips made Dean's gut tighten. He'd danced before; he remembered hating it. He hated standing in the middle of all these people. He hated feeling like he wasn't in charge of a situation. It wasn't a stupid control issue. It was a safety issue.

Safety Issues with Dancing:

1 - His back was exposed.

2 - His vision was limited due to not having a fucking wall at his back.

3 - The music, while shitty and auto-tuned to death, was loud enough he couldn't hear danger.

4 - Publicly defiling your dance partner was likely to get you arrested.

5 - He was hot and sweating and there was no air circulating – somebody could overheat.

6 - Erections were distracting.

7 - There were too many moving lights on the dance floor to keep an eye on anything.

8 - The lighting was too low anyway.

9 - The press of bodies meant a body count could get high fast.

Had he listed anything about getting elbowed by a stupid kid who thought this was a rave?

None of the above reasons even phased Cas. His angel was pressing that firm body right up against him, moving his body in sinful imitation of what Dean really wanted to do. In all honesty, turned Dean on more than he thought it would. Cas looked like sex on legs with his cheeks flushed, little strands of hair had succumb to the sweat at his hairline, and his pupils blown out wide.

And fuck, if Cas licked his lips again, Dean was going to teach the kids on this dance floor a real lesson in public indecency. He was fairly sure they all thought their dirty dancing grinding was scandalous. No little boy, dropping to your knees and sucking your boyfriend's dick in front of a hundred people was scandalous. And possibly illegal in this state.

"You feel so good Lumlums," Cas murmured as he planted small kisses along the hunter's neck. Cas fit their hips together in the perfect way that let Dean feel exactly how much Cas' new pants didn't hide. Jesus, Cas was going to make him come in the middle of a dance floor.

"Christ, not that one either. Cas, just no more nicknames tonight ok?" Dean kissed his angel's cheek to show he wasn't angry. The names got worse the more Cas drank, and next thing Dean would be stuck with something like 'Wifey-poo'.

"We should get naked Dean. We should be in your room naked dancing like this," Cas' voice was a low rumble that seemed to just go through Dean's body. Yeah, they should be naked. That sounded like an excellent idea.

"Naked is good," he managed to say before a moan slipped out. Teeth. Cas was using his teeth to pull on Dean's earlobe, which suddenly seemed to be connected directly to his dick. The nibbling was just on this side of painful, but it was followed with tiny hot kitten licks to sooth the abuse away.

"I thought about you earlier," the angel breathed into Dean's over sensitive ear before moving the other side and starting all over again. Cas' hands moved to the small of the hunter's back.

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked humming his approval as Cas wiggled his fingers under Dean's shirt for some skin on skin contact.

"I want to taste you here," Cas murmured as he licked his hunter's neck.

"And here," the angel thrust his hips against Dean's groin. The car was parked outside; Dean started to calculate how long it would take to get Cas out of here and into the backseat.

"And most especially here," Cas' low was so low and deep that Dean almost didn't hear it over his own gasped breath. The angel had slipped one hand down the back of Dean's jeans, slipping past the elastic of the boxer band, and traced between his cheeks with the lightest of touches before pulling out again.

"Fuck," Dean muttered as he leaned his head against Cas' shoulder. How the hell was Dean supposed to hold out when faced with something like that? Dean had never even thought to ask a girl to do it, and here was Cas bringing it up.

"I am hoping so, yes," Cas pulled him closer, their bodies still rocking and grinding. Damn it. Dean wanted those wings under his hands so fucking bad, but he also wanted to fuck Cas so fucking bad.

"Come on," Dean grabbed his angel's hand and went back to the table. He motioned the waitress to bring the bill, paid up, and all but dragged his angel out to the car. Cas clung to him like they were attached at the hip. In reality, Cas was attached to Dean's neck. There were going to be some very pretty marks in the morning.

Dean had taken to parking at the far end of a parking lot. His baby was huge, and the stupid parking spaces were too small; Cars in general were too small today. He hated buffing scratches or hammering out dings. Seemed better to just stay as far away from asshole Prius' as he could. And of course, it meant they had a little bit privacy away from most of the other vehicles.

He opened the back door and pulled Cas in after him. After settling the angel on his lap, Dean started shaking his head. This was a bad bad idea. He was tempting himself so freaking much. All he had to do was pull their pants down, prep Cas, and… Dean's head was spinning with lust. He hadn't been inside anyone in a very long time.

"There are so many things I think about," Cas' blue eyes never left Dean's face. Dean wasn't even sure if Cas knew he was moving his hips in tight little motions.

"Tell me more," Dean whispered into the quiet of the car.

"I want to bend you over and kiss down your back," Cas started kissing down Dean's neck as he rested his nimble hands at Dean's waist to push aside the now wrinkled black shirt.

"When I imagined you like that, all I could think about was how you would look with your cheeks spread apart for me. I wondered if you would like to have my tongue there, licking and caressing your hole. Did you know the anus is very sensitive?" Cas bit Dean's shoulder through his thin shirt. One hand sat on Dean's hip rubbing circles while the other kept pushing the cotton higher.

"Do you want to do that Cas? And don't use the word anus – call it ass, k?" Dean threaded his hands through his angel's short black hair, tugging a little until he heard a small groan in response.

"You want me to talk dirty to you without using correct terminology?" Cas asked. Was it any wonder Dean loved this amazing angel? He was – Jesus! Cas pinched the hunter's nipple and rolled it.

"Yeah baby, talk dirty," Dean's voice was husky as he struggled to keep his control. On the one hand, he could bury himself in Cas; on the other, that might make Cas stop talking. The voice that always sounded like it had been worn out screaming in ecstasy the night before was amazingly hot when he was talking about all the things he wanted.

"I want to kneel behind you while you are bent over and fuck your ass with my tongue. I want to jack you off while a finger slips in your thoroughly ravished hole," Cas leaned back and looked Dean straight in the eye. "I want to wreck you Dean. Completely."

"The things I think about us doing – I want to tie you up, then I want you to tie me up," Cas closed his eyes and started going to fucking town rocking on Dean's lap. All the hunter could do at that point was grasp the angel's hips.

"I want to suck you off and taste your come as you scream my name," Cas licked his lips and brought his hand to Dean's cheek, softly cupping the strong jaw bone. Dean closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

"Dean, I want you to strip me naked and lick every single bit," Cas brought his finger to Dean's lips and pushed in. Dean took the hint and started sucking, rolling his tongue around the soft skin. "I want to feel that mouth sucking my cock, my balls. I want your tongue buried in my ass before I open myself up on your fingers."

The hunter was pretty sure all the air had been sucked out of the car. He canted his hips so Cas' every roll and thrust rubbed his cock. Dean was so damn close to coming. Where the hell had his angel gotten such a filthy mouth? And where had he been hiding it? The finger in his mouth became two and started a steady but slow in and out rhythm.

"Dean, I want you between my legs, spreading me out, pounding into my body until we both come, and then I want to hold you close. I want our legs to get tangled up as I lay my head on your chest, listening to the beat of your heart. I want you to hold me." There were no words for how intensely Dean felt those words piece through the lust. Cas wanted to make love. Sweet naughty pornographic love.

"And then," Cas' fingers speed up as his hips gained speed as well, "I want to do it all again, but this time I want you to ride my cock. Dean, I want you in every possible way. I love you. I want to give you every pleasure it is humanly possible to have," Cas' breathing had gotten heavier and his voice was a low grumble.

"Fuck, love you Cas" Dean grabbed the angel's hips and set his own brutal pace. Less than a minute later, Dean heard Cas moan low as his orgasm overtook him. Never one to let left behind Dean buried his face in the solid chest in front of him and came as well.

"I love you too, Peanut," Dean heard as his world tried to right itself. There were very few times in his life were Dean had admitted defeat – he was a fighter. But this much was clear: Dean Winchester was not going to win this agreement or bet or whatever. If Cas had been more sober, the hunter was pretty sure his angel would have noticed Dean's surrender.

Well, time to regroup. He hadn't given in yet – maybe there was still a chance to see those impressively splendid wings.

"Not a Peanut either baby," Dean whispered with a grin. Okay, Peanut wasn't so bad, but still – no.

S-S-S-S-S

"Fuck!" Sam screamed as he threw his phone across the room. Dean just looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. When Sam had gotten home from the diner earlier tonight, his brother and Cas had been sitting on the sofa wrapped around each other whispering sweet nothing or something. Sam had wondered how long they'd stayed at the bar after he left, because it was still kind of early.

"Get your period early?" Dean asked with his best fake sympathy smile.

Sam had eaten with Elizabeth and seriously liked her. He thought she would be an excellent blind date for Charlie when she came to visit. The second Elizabeth dropped him off, Sam had dialed Becky's number to ask about the address and tell her about his night.

"Gimme' Charlie's new number," Sam ignored his brother's dumbass comment. Fuck fuck fuck!

"Whatever princess. Hey – when you get done talking about your nails, ask Charlie when she'd headed this way?" Dean said as he texted the number. Dean was way less dickish now that he and Cas were… whatever. They were weird about labels. They both agreed they were something, but the name of that something was up in the air. Whatever.

"Will do - Thanks," Sam grunted as his phone beeped. He walked out the door and started pacing the junk yard as Charlie's number rang.

"What's up buttercup?" she answered. "Long time no talk."

"Can you trace a disconnected number and get a current billing address? And a current work address maybe? Actually any information about possible locations would help," he asked without any preamble.

"Does Hermione kick ass? Of course. Ghostie? Ghoul? Gross Gob-spitting baddie?" Charlie asked with her fingers flying over the keys if the clicking in the background could be trusted.

"My wife," Sam growled.

There was such complete silence that Sam added "Ex-wife. Sort of. And she's standing me up for a date on Friday."

"You understand you owe me a few drinks and a really in depth detailed story for this, right?" the red haired hacker was grinning. Sam could hear the grin in her voice.

"Whatever you want. I even have a smoking hot blonde to set you up with. I need to know where she will be Friday night," Sam started pacing the driveway. Damn it Becky.

"I can't promise she'll be at home," Charlie hedged.

"I know. I'm planning on showing up tomorrow. She promised me a date, and she is damn well going to be wined and dined," he growled as he kicked a pinecone into the darkness.

"Okay, stalker much?" the hacker wasn't typing now. Crap.

"Charlie, please?" Sam knew he was really good at begging; he also really hated doing it. It felt like such a demeaning way to win your argument. Like your actual well rationed arguments weren't enough to move someone to your point of view, so you emotionally trick them into it.

"You have droopy eyes don't you? Crap Sam, not the droopy eyes!" Charlie complained, but the typing started back up.

"I can send a picture of them if it helps?" Sam offered as he kicked a tire. Huh. Maybe Elizabeth had been on to something with this tire kicking and aggression thing. Could be why Dean tended to beat the hell out of stuff in the junk yard when he was pissed.

"God no! I'll text you the info tonight," Charlie exclaimed.

"Rebecca 'Becky' Rosen, 867-5309."

"Thanks peaches. Didn't even need the name, or number really. I have your marriage license and an annulment that was filed exactly eight days later in Nevada State Court. But that's cute that you thought I did. And…. Done."

"What? Already?" His phone gave the chime that announced new email.

"You call the best you get the best. And the best is fast!" Never let it be said his friend was uncomfortable expressing her thoughts on herself, awesomeness, and how closely the two were connected.

"Thanks Charlie – you have no idea," Sam said. Becky was going to swept the fuck off her feet and she was going to love it.

"No, but I'm going to next time we break bread!" Charlie snickered.

"Yep – see ya'" Sam signed off.

He pulled the email up and smirked.

Becks, you don't stand a Winchester up, Sam thought as he started planning a date out with his ex-stalker/kidnapper/wife/fangirl. Whatever, Dean and Cas were right for once. Labels were over-rated.

S-S-S-S-S

AN:

Okay, Elizabeth isn't a Mary Sue. Supernatural kills all the females they cast so I didn't have anybody to use. Seriously, women are stronger than that SPN!

Las Vegas – The Little White Wedding Chapel *happy sigh* They offer a package including a DVD video and pictures. I am aware they did not use the actual chapel as the location, but my husband and I renewed our vows at the drive thru there in a convertible VW Beatle in 2009. It was so awesomely cheesy; and I cried! I can't believe I was that sappy!

867-5309 – Tommy Tutone

Interesting facts about that splendid song:

It's the fourth most common 7 digit password

In 2009, the 1-800 version of the number was leased for $25 MILLION.

In 1982, a radio station obtained the number from a local woman and got 22,000 calls in four days.

THANK YOU Indigomyst00!

Also, we're rolling pretty close to our heroes finally getting some ;)