Author's Note: First, I have to say that I do not own these characters. With that out of the way - SMUT ALERT! This chapter is filled with it so those who may be offended, avert your eyes...but more importantly, how'd you get this far? A very special thanks to LilBrokenDolly for the words of encouragement and especially for the idea. Please, read and enjoy and take a moment to review. And, without further ado...

Chapter 38

Sam lay staring at the television for several minutes before he noticed the music playing. Aerosmith was singing "Dream On" and he realized that he could no longer hear the movie. He also realized that his head was now on Meranda's stomach and vaguely wondered if maybe he'd fallen asleep. She shifted beneath him and he nuzzled his face against her, unexpectedly finding his cheek against her bare skin.

Huh…her shirt must've ridden up, Sam thought absently as he closed his eyes and savored the warm, soft smoothness of it against his face.

Her hand slowly rose from her side and came to rest on his head where she began stroking his face and hair, her touch whisper soft. He gently kissed her stomach and instantly, his senses filled with the wonderful smell of her arousal causing his hand on her thigh to squeeze in the reflex of his lust. Her fingernails slowly brushed through his hair with an intensified ardor as if his grip on her had ignited a fire inside her.

He turned, barely touching her velvety skin with his warm, moist mouth, his breath caressing her in tandem. He heard her enraptured gasp and felt her back arch, pressing her body to his mouth, her fingers tangled in his hair pulling him to her.

Sam lifted himself up and rolled onto his stomach to lie between her legs. Looking up at her, he also saw Dean kneeling beside the sofa, their mouths locked in a ravenous kiss, her other hand digging into the flesh of Dean's back.

Her hand still in his hair, she pulled Sam toward her, urging him to turn his attention back to his previous task, which he was happy to oblige.

Meranda felt Sam's hot, wet mouth against her skin as he began to work his way downward. He grasped the waist of her pajama pants and eased them down with his descent. Dean's hungry mouth and insatiable tongue against her own amplified the throbbing between her legs. As Sam's tongue began exploring her folds, she released a delighted gasp against Dean's soft, moist mouth. With one hand still in Sam's hair, she used her free hand to release Dean from his boxers. Breaking their kiss, she slowly began exploring every inch of his length with her mouth, relishing his delicious taste, magnificent shape and impressive size. She felt Dean's hand in her hair, pushing and pulling her into a pleasurable rhythm.

Sam continued exploring her sensitive skin with his warm, wet tongue, ratcheting her yearning for release up another dozen notches. Just as she found herself on the golden edge, she felt Sam shift position and in one smooth movement, she was filled with him. Instantly, she was lost in a sea of sensation. She cried out. One hand grasped at Sam's chest and arm. Her other hand firmly gripped Dean's thigh, pulling him to her in perfect rhythm with him.

As he continued thrusting, Dean looked down into her eyes. He could see the fire inside them and could feel it smoldering in his own. He felt his passion rising to a height he didn't know existed. It was as though their very essence was entwined, their souls dancing with each other. He had never felt so…complete. Suddenly, his release washed over him and he heard a loud groan escape his throat. It sounded far away and foreign.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, snapping him awake.

Dean bolted upright on the couch, looking around the room in obvious confusion. His eyes immediately began searching for Meranda and settled on her form walking toward him from the kitchen. She offered him the glass in her hand and he took it, drinking deeply from it. Catching his breath, his brow remained furrowed with his disorientation. His eyes met Meranda's and she gave him a knowing, almost wickedly seductive smile.

"Okay, what the hell was that?" Dean demanded, suddenly feeling like he was the only one who didn't know what was going on.

"I guess I forgot about that part," Meranda said, her smile fading at the displeasure in his voice.

"What part?" Dean asked, trying to not speak in the same demanding tone, but failing miserably.

Meranda took a deep breath before answering. "The dreams...because we're connected we can share dreams, each of us contributing our own wants, desires and ideas. If it's any consolation, it's strongest when we make physical contact. That's why we were all three there."

As the last sentence sank in, Dean's eyes shot to Sam who was looking back at him just as shocked as he was.

Turning his attention to Meranda, Sam asked, "So, you're saying that the three of us just had the same dream," his shock turning to awe.

Dean had to make a conscious effort not to punch Sam. He couldn't have even explained why other than the fact that Sam's "let's meet this thing head-on" attitude had just gotten under his skin one time too many. Instead, without a word, Dean stood, handed her the glass and walked to her bedroom.

Meranda and Sam watched him go and as he rounded the corner into her room, they looked at each other. The concern in her eyes kept Sam from offering the half-shrug and eye roll that he felt on the verge of giving. Instead, he stretched and yawned before looking back down the hallway and then at her again. It was clear to Meranda that Sam was going to be a spectator and not a participant in this turn of events.

Without waiting for his advice, Meranda put the glass on the coffee table and started toward her bedroom. She didn't have to look back to know that Sam was in the same position on the couch and had no intention of following her.

When she entered the room, she found Dean on her bed, his back to her. She quietly closed the door and stood looking at him. Her eyes had settled on the back of his head and she began taking in every tiny aspect of the things that were him – the shine of his soft hair, the clean line of it at the scruff of his neck, the smooth curves of his ear, neck and shoulder and the way these flowed seamlessly into each other, the lines of the muscles of his back and side that were visible even through his shirt, the curve of his perfect hip and ass that flowed down into his beautifully chiseled legs. He was a vision of perfection.

She knew without "looking" that inside, he was a mess. He'd been overloaded in the last day or two with an enormous amount of information, some of it welcomed and some of it not so much, but he'd come to accept it for the most part on his own terms. And now this. She hoped with everything she had that this wasn't the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back while simultaneously cursing herself for not thinking to say something to him before it happened.

He shifted on the bed, breaking her out of her self-deprecating trance. She quietly walked to the bed and climbed up, settling in just inches from him, but without touching him. She laid still and quiet, listening to his breathing and, with a little boost of energy, to his heart beat which was thankfully calm.

She reached out and hesitantly touched his arm. When she visibly saw him relax, even if just a little, a small wave of relief flowed through her.

"I'm sorry," she said, just above a whisper. "I swear I didn't keep this from you on purpose. Please, understand that these things about me...it's easy for me to forget that they're...different. They're part of what makes me...well, me, but I wouldn't have wanted you to find out like this. Especially since it upset you."

Dean didn't respond right away. He lay there, going over it in his mind and questioning whether or not his knee-jerk reaction to get pissed off had been the right route to take. A little warning would have been nice, but what would it have changed other than knowing there was a possibility? Had he enjoyed the dream? Fuckin'-A right he had! Was he pissed off because of it? Not so much because of the dream, but more so because he'd felt left out of the loop somehow...like when he woke up, everyone else knew what had happened which had put the experience a little higher than normal on the humiliation scale.

But Sammy hadn't known. The look on his face had said as much. Sam had just been more ready to accept it than Dean had been...which had angered him even more.

Suddenly, Dean felt like a complete and total ass.

He put his hand on hers and from behind him, he heard a heavy sigh of relief.

"Is there anything else you can think of that I might need to know?" Dean asked, his voice resonating in the quiet room.

She thought long and hard before answering.

"Honestly? I can't think of anything, but that doesn't mean that there's not because I didn't think of this. There is something though I guess I need to ask you. Is there something you want to tell me?"

This prompted Dean to roll over onto his back and look at her, his brow creased with curiosity.

"Like what?"

"Well, you know how I said that we each contribute our own wants and desires into the dream?"

"Yeah," Dean answered wondering where this was going.

Meranda hoped that she wasn't going to regret proceeding with this, but it had been in the forefront of her mind since she woke and she didn't think keeping it from him was the wisest decision considering what had brought them to this point.

"Um...hmmm...well, in that dream, you...and I...uh..." she stammered.

Dean was beginning to wonder if they'd really shared the same dream because he knew what they did and it wasn't anything they hadn't done before and certainly nothing to warrant the awkwardness or inhibition he saw in her eyes.

"Well, our souls kinda...connected," she finally continued. "That wasn't me...not the mutual part. I can't impose my will like that."

Dean wasn't sure how to answer. His plan earlier had been to tell her of his feelings, his desire to make their connection mutual and much more. He'd avoided it simply by chance and now here it was in front of him. Looks like they'd both been given information in a way the other hadn't quite planned.