"So have you figured out how to do this," Dean asked, pacing in front of the bed where the blonde was going over notes on her phone. Gwen may have a little witch in her, but she was a vampire first and foremost. Thus the reference notes—and that scared the crap out of him.

She quickly glanced up at him, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "You know, Dean, this would be a hell of a lot easier if I went– "

Her words froze him dead in his tracks, his shoulders tense.

Hell. No.

Absolutely not.

After everything, he owed it to her.

"No. It has to be me. Besides, I've been there once before. I know my way around." Sorta. "The real question is, are you going to be able to bring me back?"

"Hopefully," she replied, not sounding incredibly confident. Frickin' awesome.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hopefully is not what I wanna hear right now, Gwen."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. I said this was a risk. Look, the witch told me this potion would kill you—"

He stopped pacing, placing his hands on his hips, twisting to face her. "Wait a sec...kill me?"

Gwen rolled her eyes, shifting her shoulders in a roll. "I don't know. Maybe? She wasn't super clear on the specifics."

"Beautiful."

"The language used was somewhere between kill and coma," she shrugged and now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"Seriously, Gwen? Specific directions are kinda important, especially if you're making a pie or it's between death and comatose."

"Look, she said I shoot you with the red stuff, and that I have to give you this in three hours. No longer than the mystical three. It's like a potion Narcan," she held up a glass vial with a light blue liquid. "After what I did to her, there was no way she lied. And I didn't say who it was for, by the way. There's plenty of witches that want you dead. Can't say I blame them. I gotta admit, after everything that went down, I'm going to enjoy watching you die, Winchester."

That didn't surprise him one bit. She didn't hide her bitterness towards him. Even if they had worked together to get some sort of revenge, her anger was still palpable. Even after all of that, Gwen was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for him. For her. And he was damn grateful.

Dean flung himself on the lumpy motel bed, the springs jutting into his spine as he slid his hands behind his head. "Well, you'll get your wish, Gwen. Honestly, I can't say I blame you after...everything. Alright, even talking. Let's get this over with."

Before he could change his mind, Gwen jabbed his arm with a syringe and injected him with a liquid. It ignited a raging fire through his veins. It didn't help that Gwen was staring down at him with a wicked half-grin.

Such a BITCH.

"Dean," Gwen asked, her voice wavering, sounding farther away with every passing second, every fleeting breath. Purple hazy splotches appeared and spread, filling his vision before his eyes snapped shut. His lungs burned. The blood thundered in his ears like being trapped under pounding surf. Pain launched through him, searing into his bones, clenching his chest before it all went black.

Then nothing.

No pain.

Nothing.

Dean carefully opened his eyes and he was still in the hotel room, only now he was standing before his sprawled body. Gwen sat on the bed beside his body...and grabbed a hold of his hand, interlacing his fingers with her own. Her other palm moved to cup his cheek. Well, that left him fucking speechless. No words.

"Go get her, Dean. I have faith in you. I'll be waiting...and I promise, I'll bring you back...no matter what."

Holy crap. That he did not expect her to say. No pressure. He had to get his head on straight, taking a deep breath. Three hours, he had three short hours. Better get to it.

"Messorum evoco qui me tetigit."

The air in the room thickened, static crept up the back of his neck and caressed his spine.

"So even after I saved your ass all those years ago, you're killing yourself?"

He turned around to see a familiar pretty girl with chin-length dark brown hair. It was the Reaper he met after his car accident that led to his dad making the deal with Yellow Eyes to save his life—Tessa.

"Tessa, this isn't what you think," Dean started. "I'm not trying to off myself. I just need you to get me into Purgatory."

The Reaper stared back at him incredulously, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Dean, are you serious? I know what you're trying to do— you're going after your wife, right? I'm sorry, there's no way she's leaving– "

No.

Fuck no, he wasn't going to accept that. Dammit, he had to try. He'd come too far to stop now.

"This is my business. Look, you do this for me, I owe you. Anytime, anywhere. I'll do anything you need when you need it as long as you get me there. You get me in there and help me or no deal," Dean demanded, his eyes steely. "I only have a little time here, Tessa. Please."

Tessa's face remained all hard lines, set firm in silent determination until eventually, she rolled her eyes, her features softening in defeat.

"Fine, but if I get in trouble for this, it's your ass." She snapped her fingers, and they instantly transported into a landscape of dense forest, freezing rivers, and harsh mountain terrains. A smoky haze choked the air mixing with the aroma of grime, rot, and blood. There was an odd feel to the place; diffused sunlight seemed to give the area a bluish hue through the gray clouds. It was chilled, damp, and all sorts of wrong. It was Purgatory.

"You have to be careful," Tessa sternly reminded him. "I can't protect you here. How long did you have when you summoned?"

Dean looked down at his watch. "Three hours."

"Of course the time would be related to the Trinity...fine, I'll be back in ninety minutes then. Right back here, Dean. Mark that tree so you can find it. Got it?" She pointed to the big, distinctly tangled tree behind her. At least it was next to the river, it would make it easier for him to find his way back. "Right here, Dean. Okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, carving a largely visible identifying mark into the bark with a knife he found randomly tossed on the ground. There were discarded weapons everywhere. Well, that was comforting.

Tessa nodded and disappeared and it was time to get moving.

He broke into a jog, making sure to avoid the roots and rocks that were tripping hazards. This was a place you didn't want to be caught on the ground. Nope. That was like opening up a buffet for baddies.

Alright, he knew her fundamentally. Abs wasn't dumb. No, she was strategic. A true warrior. She'd probably want the high ground, somewhere she couldn't be cornered. Somewhere safe. He knew there were times she had camped up in the mountains in her past when she had to go undercover. Seemed logical enough; head for the peaks.

He made his way across the terrain, snagging a machete along the route. An hour had passed before he finally came across a steep hill that had a wicked sheer cliff on one side and one way up. She could funnel the action to her and settle in. Seemed completely logical.

Three vampires stood at the cliff base. Dammit. He didn't have time for a brawl, but at the same time, he had a lot of pent up aggression. These pricks were going to be sorry and he was happy to let it out. Didn't take long for them to hear him approaching. The biggest male came directly for him, and Dean quickly slashed his head clean off while he kicked another one back before slicing the second's neck. A new one, a fourth one, blurred into view from his left. He knocked it on the back of the head with the hilt of the blade. Dean then swung around in one smooth motion, severing the head off the third.

The fourth got back up and booted him in the ribs. He stumbled back, losing the grasp on his weapon. Shit. He gained his bearings as she blurred towards him again. He ducked under her punch and kicked the legs out from under her, connecting several jabs and an uppercut, leaving his knuckles bruised and bloodied. She was laid out on the forest floor, blood mixing with dirt. While she was dazed, he managed to get a hold of the machete again. He walked back and knelt on top of her, pressing his knees into her chest. She grunted and slashed at his chest until he adjusted and pinned her arms under one leg. Her jaws snapped at him, trying with all her strength to fight his hold...until she just stopped. Spread out on the ground, she merely wiped her nose and adjusted her jaw. She hissed up at him, her deadly fangs visible, as he held the blade to her pale throat.

"Just fucking do it," she angrily spat as blood dribbled out the corner of her mouth. She lifted her head slightly so her neck was pressed against the edge, a steady stream of crimson running down the knife to the handle.

The female was wearing a tattered sleeveless white dress that was shredded to the knees, caked and stained with dirt and blood. Her endless black eyes were slit, her fangs on full display. She only stared up and blinked, taking several deep, ragged breaths as her canines retreated.

"Dean?"

There was a tremor in her voice, wiping the blood from her nose, gaping up at him from the ground. The hair rose on his back of his neck. The voice. That fucking voice. He knew that voice. Even if he was dead, he'd know that voice anywhere. It was the one that played over and over in his dreams and recently in every goddamn nightmare.

"Abby?"

Holy. Crap. It couldn't be...could it? Wasn't this why he was here. But, even so, he wasn't prepared to see her again.

Dean quickly rose, tucking his machete into his jacket before offering her his trembling hand. He tugged her lithe form to her feet. And then they wrapped their arms around each other. She hugged him so tight it hurt, and he didn't give a damn. Just to touch her again, really feel her body against his, to hold her— God, his brain didn't know how to fucking process or describe how it felt, except that it felt like home.

"Oh, my God," she murmured against his chest, adding something that sounded like "you idiot," ruining the moment which caused him to smile. Yeah, that was definitely her. She pulled back and held his face between her shaky hands. "How— how the hell are you here?"

Before he could answer, she twisted her head suddenly to the left and examined their surroundings. Holding a finger to her lips, she signaled to keep quiet. Taking him by the hand, she led him up the slippery hillside into a hidden cave. The entrance was a tight squeeze, and he crawled in after her on his hands and knees. With a grunt, she rolled a large boulder to block access from anything trying to come in.

Darkness engulfed them until Abby flipped on a lantern. Dean scanned the now illuminated small stone space. It was damp, freezing, with only one way in and out. There was a surprising amount of roomy headspace for which he was grateful. The only items in the room were a lantern, a cache of weapons, and a threadbare blanket on the floor. It was a far cry from comfortable. It was more like something straight out of Shawshank.

"Home sweet home," she muttered, her arms gesturing around the space. She stumbled over some loose rocks letting out some choice swears. He must have gotten her good if she was that off-balance. Dean took the blade out of his jacket and stood before her, just observing her. Goddamn, it was her. "Well, I mean, it's home for now. You have to keep moving here, you know." She walked over to him and hesitated to place her hand on his shoulder as if the touch would burn."God, Dean. I never thought I would see you again. Are you okay? Did I...hurt you?"

He'd just beaten the living crap out of her, and she was asking if he was alright? Abby stared up at him as he tilted her face with his hands, assessing the damage he had delivered. Dammit. There were a few bruises and an angry cut above her right eye that was still flowing. He tenderly stroked her skin, causing her to flinch in pain. He slipped out some choice swears at her reaction.

"Sorry, Abs. I'm gonna sound like a real asshole after all these years, but I honestly didn't realize it was you."

She snorted.

"No sweat, Dean. I'm used to it by now."

Used to it by now. That was worse than a real punch to the gut. She shouldn't feel like a daily ass-kicking was part of the norm. Not ever. Abby didn't deserve to be here, she deserved so much more.

"That's purgatory, baby," she replied sarcastically before using her bruised forearm to clean her jawline. "Truth be told, I didn't recognize you either with all the stubble and the shaggy hair."

Dean ran a hand through his messy do. "Yeah, well, I'm not going full ZZ Top, but it's been a while. Haven't thought about it to be honest. I've had other things on my mind."

She bowed her head and nodded, knowing full well the "other things" on his mind had to do with.

Abby raised her gaze, running her fingertips over his cheek and then through his strands. God, it felt so good. She smiled. Holy shit...she smiled. His chest clenched and swelled simultaneously. If he wasn't already dead, that smile would have killed him.

"God, Dean, this is probably stupidly inappropriate for me to say right now given the circumstances, but— I'm kinda digging the longish hair. It's pretty sexy."

Sexy? Well, hot freaking damn, if she liked it that much, then maybe he'd keep the look.

"Seriously, you think it's sexy, huh," he asked, one side of his mouth kicking up into a confident half-grin. "So, I come all the way here and you're just looking at me like eye candy?"

She grazed her palm against his bristling cheek and smiled. Dean nuzzled his cheek into her touch. "And with the facial hair, you've got the whole Bobby vibe going on."

His eyes went round. Bobby? Seriously?

As horrifying as that statement was to him, she found it equally hilarious. She snorted and started to chuckle, and dammit if that didn't do something to him. To hear her—to listen to that laugh coming from her again… Man, he really turned her into a puss after all those years.

"Well, in that case, Abs, I will be shaving and getting a haircut as soon as we get back."

Dean realized it as soon as the words left came out; he had said we. Them. Together. They both were going back. She was going to be at home again in the next couple of hours. Well, it wouldn't be exactly her, but it would be Abby. He had to keep that part a secret until he got her to where he was meeting Tessa. He couldn't afford Abs inevitable freak out.

He leaned into the hand still splayed against his cheek. It was so solid, and she was real. Even battered and dirty beyond belief, she was just fucking perfect.

He couldn't stop staring at her. "God, you're beautiful."

Abby rolled her eyes. She was adorable when she was sassy. "Oh, that's a good one, Dean. You sure you can see clearly? Did I hit you that hard?"

"I mean it. I may lie about a lot of things, but I would never lie about that." He gingerly lifted her chin with his right hand, running his left through her unkempt dark hair, moving closer until his cheek was against her own. Even beneath the salt and earthiness of the sweat and grime, Dean could still make out the distinct scent of sage and cinnamon that was somehow always around her. He was taking her in with every sense that he could.

Dean backed away, leaning his forehead against hers, his hands on her arms just above her elbows. He could feel Abby's breath on his lips, taste them with each steady, deep inhale. And he suddenly couldn't remember where he was, or why he was there. All he could do was focus on her. Her little breaths were coming out more rapidly as his fingers ran up and down her bicep. How her eyes fluttered shut and her body shuddered from his touch. He was drunk on her already, and she's the only person that held that sort of power over him.

"You got me good, Winchester. But, you know, you also killed my only allies here. Turns out, being associated with the Winchesters in a realm of monsters they've killed isn't such a great thing. Now, how in the hell are you— "

Before he could stop himself, Dean lowered his head and kissed her. There was nothing gentle or calm about his intent. No, he was staking a claim. After what happened during their last meeting in that damn speakeasy, he had to prove to Abby that he still wanted her. He needed to erase all doubt. He needed her to believe it. To believe in him.

The last thing he expected was to feel like he was making out with a goddamn statue. Her jaw stayed set in a tight line. It was like a first surprise kiss between clumsy teenagers rather than their thousandth. She stood in shock, frozen, before abruptly pushing him away, leaving a small gap separating them, leaving him wide-eyed and speechless.

Abby pushed him away...

"Wait." Abby's gaze frantically shifted focus between his lips and his eyes. Her hands shook against his chest, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I'm...I'm sorry, Dean—I'm...I'm not trying to be defensive or weird here. I'm really not. Shit. It's just—no one has touched me like that in a long time. I just— I just need a minute."

Oh. Shit. His stomach sank. For some reason, this was something Dean's dumb ass never expected; that she would be changed. Which was fucking stupid because how could Abby be the same after what she'd gone through?

The sudden realization struck like lightning of just how, even in the short months Abby had been there, purgatory had broken her. The longer he watched her, Dean could see subtle changes. Her firm body showed signs of injuries in various stages of healing. There were deep, dark purplish circles beneath her eyes. And those eyes—those were different. There was something that made them fortified steel, and so damn dark they could easily be mistaken for a demon. The light that used to be there was...gone. That alone scared the living crap out of him. God, it must have been pure hell, and all he was doing was selfishly trying to go back to where they were before.

After everything they'd gone through since then, their lives only months before seemed like a whole other lifetime. Hell, it probably felt even longer for Abs. There was no denying that their time apart had irreparably changed them both. The hard truth was there was no going back, not to the way it was before. It would never be the same. And it was clear she was in shock and needed time. Unfortunately for Dean, time was in short supply and any amount of time had him flirting with a bad ending. Fuck it. He was willing to take the risk for just one more damn moment. No risk, no reward.

Like she had read his mind, Abs purposely stepped forward, now close enough where Dean could feel her breath on his skin again. Her fingertips skimmed up the fabric of his jacket before setting them on his shoulders. Abby peered upwards through her full dark lashes, her midnight irises meeting his before her eyes fluttered shut. She ran one caressing hand over his shoulder, curling at the nape of his neck, and pulled him closer, enticing him down to her as her fingers stroked his hair. His lips brushed hers as delicately as possible even though he desperately wanted to kiss her hard. But he couldn't take it if she pulled away again. No way was he going to risk that happening. He couldn't take it if she did. His thumb stroked her cheek as his other hand tangled in her mess of jet-black hair.

With a sigh and a faint whimper, Dean sensed her body melt into him. He took that as a sign. He leaned in, deepening the kiss, the tip of his tongue breaking the seam of her lips. And, goddamn, at the feel of her tongue, the taste of her, all gentle thoughtfulness went right out the damn window. His hands greedily skimmed down her bare arms causing goosebumps to spread over her skin. They roamed over her body as they kissed and kissed., getting reacquainted with all the dips and swells he had memorized. When he got to her hips, he lifted her, pressing her against him. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him so close there wasn't any space between their bodies. He laid his soul bare, everything he felt for into every gesture. Every hard caress of her curves. Every demanding press of his lips. Every sweep of his tongue with her own. Actions were saying what their words couldn't. They were always better at that than speaking. But one thing was still clear, as clear as the day they'd met. He was hers. She was his. That's all there was to it.

And for the first time since her death, that jagged gap in his chest began to stitch back together. All the careful control over the pain that Dean buried in hunting and liquor disappeared in her arms. Nothing else mattered except they were together again. All he wanted was to keep his promise to hold her and protect her forever. That was the plan. There was no possible way in eternal hell that he was quitting on her this time around. No fucking way.

With a sense of urgency, like time was running out, things escalated pretty quickly. Abby wiggled out of his arms and onto her feet, shuffling his jacket and flannel off. Her hands weren't being gentle. She knew what she wanted and what she was doing. God, Dean loved it when she got all frisky and handsy with him. She pushed him up against the stone wall with a knowing grin and he immediately knew what she was up to. So when she kissed him again, he flipped their position with her back flush against the stone wall. And there they were, just like their first time so many years ago, only instead of a wall, there had been a very special tree.

He lifted her slightly, pressing into her until their chests and hips smashed against one another. She curled one slender leg up around his hips. And then their hands were everywhere. Their lips devoured each other. Abby was making those sweet feminine moans against his mouth that he had missed so damn much, and he was taking them all in as his hips rolled against her. Dean's jaw clenched and he swallowed a groan as her hands found their way up to his shirt, skimming over his chest before sweeping down his stomach to his jeans. His hand slid up under her scrunched up bottom of her dress, sliding up the soft, bare skin of her stomach and then higher to her breast. Her hips drove against his, she whispered his name and goddamn...

His chest and stomach tightened—and, fuck him, that wasn't the only part of Dean that was tight and there was no doubt Abby could feel how hard he was against her. And, dammit, all he wanted to do was strip her down and fuck her right there. To lose himself in her, both literally and figuratively.

Now. Right now. Like yesterday.

And Dean felt no shame in that at all. Didn't matter if it wasn't the right time or place, he fucking needed her. He needed to feel anything other than the crippling misery he'd been living with top-side. And he knew she needed it too, and that was something he could definitely do with her. For her. He picked her up with every intention of laying her down right there on the tattered blanket, but something in the back of his mind told him to peek at his watch.

Only an hour left...and it had taken almost an hour to get to...

Shit. Fuck. Crap. Damn.

Time was his enemy. Their enemy. So caught up in her, Dean completely forgot why the hell he traveled to Purgatory in the first place.

It took every shred of Dean's will-power to pull back, gently unwrapping her leg and setting her down on her feet, her back still against the wall. He leaned forward, his hands on the wall near Abby's hips, resting his forehead against hers as he fought to get control of his breathing. If he hadn't stopped kissing her right then, he wouldn't have stopped. And it was tough to stop when she was not wearing anything under that thin dress. Damn hard. Besides, there would be plenty of time for the fun of the sexy kind later. Once they got back, Abby could do whatever the hell she wanted with him. He was completely hers to the core. Heart. Mind. Soul. Body. Oh yeah, most definitely body.

But he had to pump the brakes and her wide eyes gaped at him like he'd lost his fucking mind. There had to be some truth to that. He gathered his discarded flannel and jacket, picking up the machete and piecing himself back together before he came back over to her.

Her eyes were glistening. Her shoulders slouched. Her jaw clenched.

Dean swore under his breath.

"You shouldn't have come here," she whispered, her voice breaking, her hand lightly clasping his throat, as teardrops slipped down her cheek.

Crap. Her walls were back up. Dean pulled her to him, as his arms protectively surrounded Abby before tenderly pressed his lips to her forehead

"Come on, Abs, you're actually surprised? Yeah, well, you know that wasn't going to happen. I wasn't just going to sit on my ass and leave you stuck here. I love you, remember?" That was the honest-to-God truth, and he felt like he hadn't said that nearly enough when she was alive. She shuddered against him, her arms snaking around his midsection, and she was hugging him back.

He pulled back and took her hand, guiding her toward the cave entrance. "And, just so we're clear, God knows I didn't want to stop just now. I know you could feel that I was ready to go. The things you do to me are...believe me, I want you, and I'm just as frustrated...like a cold shower for an hour frustrated. But, babe, we've gotta go."

"No. Wait." She yanked her arm away, her brows knitted. "We need to talk first. Go? Go where? I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on?"

God, they didn't have time for twenty questions. "Okay, the short version. Newsflash, you're dead and are in Purgatory."

"Yeah, I'm keenly aware, Dean. I'm supposed to be here. I'm a monster, remember?"

"You're not a monster, Abby."

She snickered. "My genetics and pointy fangs suggest otherwise."

"So are you sayin' you wanna stay here?" A muscle in his jaw twitched. There he was trying to save her cute little firm ass, and they still ended up arguing over the dumbest points. Was she tapping her damn foot? Was it even worse that he missed that and it sorta turned him on?

"Do you think I want to be here?" Abby crossed her arms defensively over her chest. She was getting obstinate. Dean took her hands in his, his thumbs delicately stroking the backs, trying to calm her down.

"Then come home with me, Abs."

She tilted her head, looking at him like he'd grown a second head. "But how? I heard my body went up in smoke, and you know without that— "

His eyes glanced down to his watch again. The panic rose in his throat.

"We searched the lore, and there's a way you can come back, but I don't have time to explain. We have to go. Now. You're just going to have to trust me. But you have to come with me right now. Okay?"

No answer. She stood there motionless, his hands still holding hers. She pulled back, her whole body tense. Her eyes searched his and he was barely keeping it together. Tears formed that he was not going to let fall. Not when there was still hope and they were so close.

"Babe?" No answer. Her eyes lowered to the ground.

"Abby?" Silence. There was a heavy sick feeling in his stomach as he watched her tense shoulders.

"Abigail...please?" His voice came out soft, hoarse, and wavering.

It had to be the desperation in the way Dean asked that got to her. Maybe it was how his voice shook or how his eyes watered. He wasn't one to beg. Hell, he could count on one hand how many times he had in his life. But there he was openly pleading with her, and he wasn't a damn bit ashamed. Abby peered up at him with those familiar dark eyes, and he knew her answer. He'd won. Abby sighed and willingly took his hand. Relief swept through him and he could breathe again.

He crushed her to his side, kissing her temple. "That's my girl."