Chapter Sixteen - I've got something to tell you, and you're going to love it

.

This is their life, she thinks to herself when Monday comes, pushing the memories of the nightmares away. Whenever she's home, Andy gets up early to prepare Dean's healthy lunch and snacks, and their breakfast. Or better, his. She only has coffee in the morning, before which she's a sleepy hot mess who can't put two words together to make a sentence. By the time he gets home from his daily morning run, god bless his healthy and organized heart, she has enough coffee in her system to function properly, and they sit and talk for a while. Then, he kisses her goodbye and goes to that awful place he calls work.

Of course, Sandover Bridge & Iron is not a bad place. In fact, it's one hell of a multinational company, and a terrific job, especially if you happen to be Director of Sales and Marketing like Dean had been for the past three weeks. Payments and benefits were incredible, and Andy knows most people would say Dean's lucky for getting such a good job.

But they were complete opposites when it came to their jobs, being stuck in an office day in and day out, doing pretty much the same thing all day sounded like a nightmare to her, but Dean loved that place. And truth be told, they were opposites when it came to their lives as well.

If she were to be honest, it was a wonder they made it so far. He was a sucker for healthy habits like healthy food, morning runs, exercise, and a regular sleep pattern. She had awful eating habits, a terrible sleeping schedule, and hated exercise. Where he loved numbers, she loved history and ancient languages. He loved his 9 to 5 office job but she loved nothing more than travelling, working weird hours and getting knee-deep in dirty to find things that told the history of people whose lives had been lost in the sands of time. She was chaos to his organization, but somehow, they made it work.

Love, she had told someone a long time ago. What Dean and she had was love. It had to be because nothing else explained what she felt for him.

"Andy?" Dean calls, as he removes his shoes to enter their apartment.

"I'm in the kitchen!" She yells back.

"I've got something to tell you," he says walking inside. "And you're going to love it," He stops mid-sentence as he enters the kitchen. Andy is sitting on the central countertop, wearing a familiar old and loose floral dress that looks perfect on her. Her legs are crossed beneath her and in front of her is her computer, some files, and a glass of wine, meaning she'd set up work in the countertop today, and had probably been there the entire day.

Andy watches as he watches her and once their eyes meet, she smiles sheepishly. "Hi, handsome,"

"Hey, pretty girl," he kisses her briefly before she gently pushes him away. "What's up with the wine?"

"Nothing, just lots of work and a bad headache," she offers him a smile. "Now, tell me what you were gonna say," Andy asks, messing with his tie.

"I think I was hit on by a guy in the elevator today," Immediately, her loud laughter fills the kitchen. "Knew you'd love it, you hellion," He comments, shaking his head and indulging himself in half a glass of wine, even though it's Monday.

"I need details. Was he hot? What did he say?" She questions, still laughing a little.

"You know, most women would be bothered by hearing that another man hit on their husband," Dean states, taking a sip of the delicious white she picked today. Andy had a gift for choosing wines.

"I'm not most women," She replies instantly. "And I'm not blind or dumb. I know my husband is hot as fuck, so naturally, I expect other people, be they men or women, who are not blind or dumb either, to look at you, admire you, hit on you, dream of you… you know. It's normal, Dean and it doesn't surprise me," she sips her wine. "So, was he hot?"

Dean can't help but smile at her casual and blunt honesty. It was one of the things he liked the most about her. "Well, I can't say I stuck around to look and admire, but he was tall, really tall. And I can tell you that he looked right out of a magazine or one of those weird beach tv shows where everyone uses skimpy bathing suits and make out all the time,"

"Mmm. Sounds hot to me," Andy replies after trying to picture what he described.

"Hot, but not exactly original. He asked me if he knew me, cause I looked familiar," Dean completes, mimicking the guy's voice.

"Yeah, it is a lame pick-up, line," she says with a shrug. "The look on your face must've been priceless, though," she teases before a noise comes from the laptop and she focuses on the screen.

While she reads and types what's probably an email, Dean goes to their room and removes his tie and suit jacket, trying not to pay attention to the messy open luggage on the floor and the clothes scattered around. When he returns to the kitchen, her laptop is closed and Andy smiles. "I've got something for you," Jumping from the countertop, she grabs a fork from the sink and walks to the oven. "Try this,"

He opens his mouth without questions, and immediately his mouth is taken over by something that tastes so good that he can't even describe it. "Jesus Christ, Andy, this is fucking delicious!" He exclaims and a wide smile appears on her face.

"Glad you liked it, husband," She says, happy.

"What did you put on this?" At his question, she shakes her head.

"Ah ah, you know I can't tell you my secrets. It's an old family recipe and-"

"And your great-grandma used to say the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach," He completes, reciting the words she'd told him ever since they'd met.

"And that a wise woman never spills the beans about the magic she does in the kitchen," They both recite together and by the end, she's by his side kissing him.

...

Yet again, Andrea wakes up in the middle of the night, startled and sweaty. Dean's sleeping soundly beside her, and although she'd love his arms around her, she doesn't want to disturb him, so, as quiet as possible, she gets up and goes to the bathroom, silently locking the door behind her.

Alone, she takes some deep breaths to calm herself down. Her head is aching and she feels dizzy. Then, washing her face with cold water, she tries to forget the strange images of her nightmare in which she had been talking in a strange form of Latin, using magic, to fight a man that for some unknown reason, she was sure to be a demon.

...

"Elevator guy attacked me again," Dean says, unknotting his tie before walking to Andy to kiss her.

She looks up from her computer, interested. "Really?"

"Yeah and let me tell you, he's a weird one. I mean, who goes around asking people if they believe in ghosts and vampires because he dreamt about it?" Andy stares at him for a moment, but then she starts laughing.

"Ghosts and vampires? Well, he went from the most cliche hook-up line to the most interesting one," She comments sounding impressed. "What did you tell him?"

Dean gives her a look. "I told him he overshares and that he shouldn't do it. It's none of my business what he dreams about. I don't even know him. He's probably just crazy or disturbed,"

"Or maybe he's secretly a genius with knowledge of the world that no one else has," Andy teases, but Dean doesn't miss the hidden seriousness in her tone. Before he can say anything, she talks again. "Come on, husband. Dinner's ready and getting cold in the dining room,"

Dean wakes up to an empty bed. The clock on the bedside table marks 3:27 am and upon seeing that the bathroom is empty, he gets up to see where Andy is. He finds her sitting on the floor of their living room, computer open, papers surrounding her, and a focused expression on her face as she reads the screen.

"Hey, pretty girl," He says, touching her shoulder. "You okay?"

She looks at him. "Hey. Yeah," she replies, yawning. "I had a nightmare, couldn't sleep again afterward and I decided that coming here and doing some work was better than tossing and turning,"

"Another nightmare?" She just nods and when she doesn't comment, Dean understands it's because she doesn't want to talk about it. "What are you working on?"

"Just some research," Andy says, putting the laptop on the center table so that he can see it.

"Witches, uh?" He asks, doing a quick reading. "Sounds interesting,"

"You think?" She questions with some surprise in her voice he doesn't understand.

"Are you talking about the hot witches or the creepy ones?" Dean asks with a smile, trying to ease some of her tension with his words.

Smiling, she turns her attention fully to him. "Care to explain that nomenclature?"

"Well, you know. The creepy witches are like the old lady in Snow White's movie. Ugly, wrinkled, evil. The hot ones, uh, picture Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman in Practical Magic," Andy laughs hard. "Come on, it makes sense,"

"It does, I'm just laughing at the fact that you even watched those movies,"

"You know I'm full of surprises, baby," He leans in to kiss her in a way that, along with his words, sends a hot wave to her core, and Andrea needs to pull back before he succeeds in taking her back to bed.

"Stop distracting me," she says, putting a hand on his chest. "I need to work on this,"

Sighing, Dean raises his hands. "Okay, okay. I surrender. I won't distract you anymore. Now, tell me. What kind of witches are you looking into?"

Andy looks at the computer for a moment before replying. "Uh, both, I think. I mean, it kinda depends on which culture and mythology you're looking into. Some depict them as old hags, some as beautiful young women, others even say they don't look human at all. No matter their form is, though, or their origin, witches are always a force to be reckoned with. However, if we look at reality, as history has proven, most times they're just strong women being persecuted and killed by their beliefs and their refusal to submit,"

Dean considers her words. "Strong women fighting for their beliefs? I like them already,"

"Really? So, the idea of magic doesn't make you cringe?" She finds herself asking for some unknown reason.

Her husband stares at her for a moment, studying her face. "Uh, I don't know. I mean, magic isn't exactly real. But if I have to answer, I'd say no, as long as it's used for the right reasons, like, saving the princess, helping people, instead of turning men into beasts,"

"The beauty and the beast prince had it coming," Andy complains playfully.

Dean smiles, shaking his head. "Do you know how much shit I'd get from my co-workers and men in general if they knew you turned me into a Disney fan?" His wife laughs, loudly and happily, before leaning in to kiss him.

"It only means you were an awesome boyfriend, and that you're even a better husband,"

They kiss again.. until she pulls away just a little. "You should head to bed, handsome," She knows he doesn't function properly without sleep.

"You're right, but what about I make you some coffee first?"

"Coffee sounds great,"

Around midday, Andy wakes up from her nap on the couch with a headache. She takes some pills, but the pain and the weird things she'd seen in her sleep don't go away.

...

Two nights later, when Dean opens the door, Andy's standing there, biting her nails. He had called her to tell her what had happened and she'd been worried about him all day. His delay to arrive, he was over three hours late of the time he usually got home, didn't help her worry either.

"Dean! Are you okay?" She asks, instantly wrapping her arms around his waist. Her husband rests his chin on the top of her head, inhaling the floral smell of her hair for a second.

"Uh, yeah," At the weirdness in his voice, she pulls away, just enough to look at his face. "I'm okay,"

"What's wrong?"

"We have a visitor," He replies, offering her a tentative smile. She stares at him for a second before walking out the open door to the corridor.

There, she sees a very tall man, with a yellow polo t-shirt that highlights his strong arms. "Let me guess, you're the elevator guy," Andy says.

The guy smiles, and walks closer, offering a hand to her. "Uh, hi. My name's Sam Wesson. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Smith," The way he called her Mrs. Smith makes her laugh, breaking the ice.

"I don't think anyone calls me that outside of the classrooms I visit, so call me Andy, and please, come on in," She walks back inside before him, giving her husband a weird look on her way to the kitchen.

They follow her and she watches in silence as Dean grabs his cleanse juice from the fridge. He takes a sip, before looking at Sam. "Holy crap, Dude,"

"Yeah," Sam replies, sounding just as surprised as Dean, and Andy looks between the two of them, trying to understand what's happening. "I could use a beer,"

"Oh, sorry, man. I'm on the Cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house," At that, Andy rolls her eyes.

"Your carbs, you mean," She says, standing up. "There's no beer, but we do have wine. Care for a glass?"

"Sure, thank you," Andy walks out, but stops halfway to the dining room, forgetting to ask if he liked red or white. She's almost back at the kitchen door when she hears Sam speaking in a low voice.

"How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?"

As Andy appears by the door, Dean knows from the look on her face that she heard Sam. She looks straight at him.

"What the fuck is going on, Dean?"

Knowing better than to lie to her, Dean tells Andy the truth about what had happened that day. Once he's done talking, silence fills the room. There's a long moment of silence as they wait for her to say something. When she does speak, it is not what they expect.

"Should've gotten that wine," she mutters, standing up and walking out.

Sam looks at Dean, and he follows his wife. "Andy?"

From the dining room, she yells. "I said I need wine, Dean!"

Some minutes later, when she returns, the bottle is already opened and she has a full glass in her hand. Andy sits down, ignoring the looks both men are giving her as she finishes the entire glass in one gulp. She starts pouring herself another glass, and Dean opens his mouth to protest, but she raises a hand, stopping him before he even speaks. "So, you're saying ghosts are real and you two fought one?"

"Andy I know this sounds crazy, but-" Again, she raises her hand, stopping her husband.

Turning to Sam, she speaks again. "Why did you start investigating the two suicides?"

"Something felt wrong about them," Sam replies.

Andy drinks again, thinking for a moment. "Dean mentioned that you have weird dreams,"

Sam nods. "I have dreamt about vampires, reapers, ghosts, demons-"

"Demons?" She repeats, and a weird feeling starts to grow inside of her.

Sam mistakes her tone, thinking she doesn't believe him. "I know how this sounds. Like I'm a basket case or something, but I'm telling you. What Dean and I saw today was real. As real as you and me,"

Staring into his eyes, Andy questions him again. "Your dreams, how are they? Do you just see those things as a viewer of some sort or are you part of them? Like you were living them?"

Sam stares back, something weird on his face. "It's like I'm living them," Andy looks away from his face, focusing her attention back on the wine as if it were the most interesting thing in the room.

Dean studies her for a moment, but before he can say something, Sam speaks again. "And when we were fighting that ghost… It's like...we've done this before,"

Dean turns to him. "What do you mean, before? Like Shirley MacLaine before?"

Sam shakes his head. "No. I—I just can't shake this feeling like I—like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle,"

"I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way,"

"No. Well, look, it's more than that," Sam argues. "Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. I don't like my last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that...it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different," He pauses, unaware that his words are shaking Andrea to her core. "What about you? You ever feel that way?"

"I do," she replies quietly, much to their surprise.

"What do you mean, Andy?"

"I mean he's not the only one who feels like that. I've been feeling the same way these past few days," She turns to Dean and carries on. "Also, I think I'm having the same kind of weird and vivid dreams he's having,"

"What? Why haven't you told me?" Dean demands.

"Because I didn't think it was important. Not until you told me about his dreams. Now, with everything you two said, it definitely seems something is wrong here,"

Something that looks like relief appears in Sam's eyes as he questions Andy about her dreams. "What are your dreams about?"

"I think I also dreamt about demons, ghosts, and something that looked like zombies, and I was also fighting them, but there was something else. I was fighting them with spells and… magic,"

"Spells and magic?" Sam asks. "Are you sure?"

Before she can reply, Dean speaks. "That's why you've been researching witches these past few days?" The look in her eyes answers his question before her nod, and he can't believe she didn't say anything to him.

Feeling the tension between them, Sam jumps in, changing the subject. "What about you, Dean? Don't you feel like you were destined for something else?"

Looking away from Andy with an expression that promised they would talk about this later, Dean looks at Sam.

"I don't believe in destiny. I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though,"

"All right, so, what do we do now?" Sam asks.

"We do what I do best, Sammy. Research,"

Andy watches in silence as they talk, set up their computers, and start talking about the Sandover company and about ghosts. For a moment she just sits there, feeling strange, either because of the entire conversation or because of the amount of wine she drank. Finally, she's had enough, and standing up, she sets the glass on the sink. "I'm gonna head up to bed,"

Dean and Sam look up at her. "Don't you want to give us a hand?" Sam questions.

"You seem to have it handled," she replies with a small smile, before going to the bedroom.

...

Just as she is undressing, Dean enters the room, closing the door behind him. They don't say anything for a few minutes. "You should've told me, Andy,"

She looks at him. "Really? And what was I going to say? That I was dreaming about being a freaking witch fighting demons and ghosts? Or that I've been feeling like this isn't really my life, and our marriage and our whole lives don't feel real? Uh? How could I talk to you, when I couldn't even think straight?"

Seeing unfamiliar despair in her green eyes, Dean closes the distance between them, to take her hands in his. "Andy, you're my wife. You can say anything to me, and we'll try to work it out. That's how a marriage is supposed to be,"

Looking at him, she shakes her head, as a sad smile appears on her face. "What if we're not married at all? What if this is just a crazy, twisted version of that Nicholas Cage Christmas movie, where he dreams that he's married and has a family, only to wake up alone in an empty apartment?" Just as he's about to argue, her eyes go wide and she lets go of his hands. "Or what if it's even worse? I mean, Sam saw himself fighting all sorts of evil creatures, and most witches are villains. What if I'm one of the bad guys you're supposed to fight? What if I'm evil?"

Again, he takes her hands. "Andy, look at me. Whatever is happening, we'll figure it out, together, alright? And if by any chance your dreams turn out to be true, and you're indeed a witch, and our marriage isn't true, it won't change how I feel about you, do you hear me? It's real for me and I know that there is not a single bad thing in you. You're a good person and I love you, okay?"

Tears are shining in her eyes when she looks up at him. "Even if I'm a witch?" She whispers.

"Even if you start wearing a pointy hat, with black dresses and gothic make-up, using a cauldron to cook," He pauses, pulling her into his arms. "Besides, I think being able to use magic and change things with spells is really cool. Also, don't forget how you told me that witches aren't just bad in mythology. Ok?"

Nodding, she leans her head in his chest, enjoying the warmth of his arms wrapped around her.

"I should go check on Sam," Dean says after a moment. Andy straightens up and looks at him, nodding. "Wanna help? I'm sure we could use your archaeological skills to figure this out,"

"I want to, but I think I need to rest a little. I drank too much and I have this headache that doesn't stop," He stares at her worriedly for a moment. "I'm fine, don't worry," Andy says, trying to ease his mind. "I'll be here if you two need me, ok?"

"Alright, but call me if you need anything. I'll leave the door open," With that, he presses a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Andy,"

"I love you too, Dean,"

...

Dean and Sam spent most of the night researching and watching videos on how to kill a ghost. In the morning, they leave to buy some stuff, and upon returning, Dean explains everything to Andy, from the videos, to the things they bought and to the plan they have. When night falls and they're sure the company building is empty, the three of them go there to hunt down the ghost of no one other than P T Sandover, founder of the company.

Sam goes one way, and Andy stays with Dean, trying to hold the shotgun as he showed her. After walking through the dark hallways for a while, upon hearing a weird sound, she holds tight to Dean's arm. "Dean, I don't like this," Andy whispers, looking around.

"It's okay if you want to go back to the car," He whispers back.

"I'm not leaving you here alone. I'm just saying I don't like this, that's all," She replies.

Finally, they reach a room filled with mementos from Sandover's life. "Check that wall, while I check this one. Look for anything-"

"Anything with genetic material on it, got it," She completes, finishing his sentence.

A couple of minutes later, Sam appears, and he has blood on his face.

"Whoa. That's a lot of blood," Dean comments.

"Yeah, I know,"

"What happened?" Andy asks.

"Sandover just made another victim," Sam replies. "Did you find anything?"

Just as Andy's shaking her head, Dean points at something on the opposite wall, where a glass case is, protecting a pair of gloves.

"P. T. Sandover's gloves," Sam reads the display.

"Yeah, how much you wanna bet there's a little smidge of DNA in there? You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair or two? Something,"

"So you ready?" Sam asks Dean.

He looks at his wife for a moment, before turning to Sam. "I have no idea,"

"Me neither," When they reach for the iron poker and the salt, Andy puts the gun up. "Go for it," Sam encourages.

Just as Dean smashes the glass, their breaths become visible as the temperature drops. Sandover's ghost appears behind Dean, flinging him into the wall. Andy screams and tries to use the gun, but the ghost flings her next and she hits the wall hard. For a second, she watches as Sam and Dean fight the ghost using the salt and then the poker as if they'd done it before, but suddenly the ghost manages to trick them and throwing Sam to the wall, he reaches for Dean, and just as despair fills Andy, something else awakens inside of her.

"Andy! The gloves!" Sam screams from where he is, holding a lighter. She looks at the gloves not far from her, and another quick look at Dean is all it takes to make that something inside of her explode. Instantly, the gloves catch fire, and along with them, Sandover's ghost.

Before she can realize what happened, pain engulfs her entire body, and when she opens her eyes, she's no longer with Dean and Sam, but in a warehouse.

It takes Andrea a long moment to come back to herself, between the pain and the confusion from having a different life thrown at her and then just as easily ripped away.

"Do you understand now?" Zachariah asks, appearing in front of her. "How Dean feels about you?"

Andrea moves to look at him, but an unbearable pain in her wrists makes her look down, and the sight of her hands makes her sick. The burns are deeper and worse and she can't move without feeling them.

"That's what happens when you use magic while wearing those cuffs," The angel comments, walking closer. "I must say I'm impressed you managed it,"

"How can I be sure you're not lying?" She asks, ignoring his words about her injuries. "As far as I know, all that was nothing but a dream,"

"You're right, that could've been just a dream, but deep down you know it wasn't. You saw it. You felt it. Such emotions cannot be fabricated,"

"Are you finished?" She says after a moment. Exhausted, and ready to pass out, Andrea's lost the will to argue and bitch at the angel, just wanting this all to be over.

The angel studies her face for a while before replying. "Not yet. Are we clear on what we discussed?" He asks back. "You need to be a good girl, and play your part. Just do as you're told and no one will get hurt. Bottom line, use your magic, help the Winchesters, kill as many demons as you wish, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. Got it?"

Looking at him with pure hatred in her eyes, Andrea nods. "I get it,"

"I'll be watching you, witch," With that final warning, Zachariah touches her forehead, and she blacks out.

...

Andrea wakes up in the backseat of a car. It only takes her a moment to know Zachariah didn't bother to heal her. Just as she realizes where she is, she hears a familiar voice.

"We gotta find Andy, Sam," Dean says worriedly.

Struggling, she opens the door. "I'm right here," Andy says breathlessly.

As Sam and Dean walk to her, they see how her clothes are bloody and dirty, just like her face, and how she looks terrible.

"Zachariah did this?" Dean asks, touching her knee, and when their eyes meet, Andrea feels something weird inside of her, as images of the two of them together as husband and wife come to her mind.

Andy just nods, looking away from him. Dean, on the other hand, keeps staring at her, being assaulted by the memories of the fake life Zachariah created.

"Let's find somewhere to stop and take care of your wounds, okay?" Sam says, breaking the silence and the weird looks between them.

"Okay," She replies.

"Sounds good, Sammy. I'll drive,"