Chrys winced when Bobby started to shout. "'Unlikely to walk again?!' Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!"

The doctor fled, and Bobby continued to shout. "I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you'd better run!"

Chrys chuckled quietly, standing behind Sam, and next to Dean. They were in Bobby's hospital room, watching him berate the doctor who had come to give him bad news. This was much more like the person she'd read about, and that the boys had told her about.

Bobby swivelled his head and turned to glare at the three of them. "You believe that yahoo?"

Chrys stepped forward and smiled. "Fuck him, Bobby. You'll be fine."

He looked at Sam. "I like her."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, me, too." Chrys's heart fluttered. "So, let me ask the million dollar question. What do we do now?"

Bobby signed. "Well… We save as many people as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It's bad. Whoever wins, heaven or hell, we're boned."

Chrys shifted uncomfortably. Heaven didn't stand a chance against Lucifer. She'd had personal conversations with the angel, she held out no hope that even the Winchesters could win.

Dean looked at Bobby. "What if we win?"

Three heads turned to look at him. He met each of their eyes individually. "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their shitty apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves."

Bobby cocked an eyebrow. "And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?"

Dean shrugged. "I got no fuckin' idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give 'em hell attitude, and I'll figure it out." He stood.

Bobby gave a reluctant chuckle. "You are nine kinds of crazy, boy."

Dean nodded as he clapped Bobby on the shoulder. "It's been said. Listen, you stay on the mend. We'll see you in a bit." He walked out.

Sam placed a hand on the small of Chrys's back, and they walked toward the door to follow.

Bobby's words stopped them. "Sam?"

Sam stopped and turned.

"I was awake. I know what I said back there. I just want you to know that… That was the demon talking. I ain't cutting you out, boy. Not ever."

Chrys smiled when Sam sighed. She knew those words had been weighing on him since he'd heard them, and it was good to know that Bobby wasn't the kind of man to back out when things got hard. "Thanks, Bobby," he said softly.

Bobby nodded. "You're welcome. I deserve a damn medal for this, but… You're welcome."

They turned again to walk out, but Bobby stopped them again. "Chrys, hang back for a sec."

Sam frowned and stayed where he was. "Go, Sam," she said softly. "I'll be fine. Just don't leave me here, or Bobby and I will be sharing a room," she joked, gently pushing him out the door. "Go."

Once Sam had left, she turned back. "What can I do you for, Bobby?"

He frowned. "What are you doing here? I never got the exact story."

She sighed and sat on his bed next to him. "That's a long story, Bobby, and all three of you guys need sleep."

"Give me the condensed version, then."

She sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. "I'm Sam's soulmate. Lucifer somehow got me more bound to Sam than normal soulmates, and I think somehow got me bound to Lucifer himself, too. I'm considered, loosely translated, 'Lucifer's brood mare.' So being away from Sam is painful for me, physically."

He examined her for a long moment, and she fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. "Whose side you on?" he asked gruffly.

"Sam's," she said without a moment's hesitation. "Sam's side, wherever he lands. I'm rooting for him to find a way to ice the devil, but either way, I'm stickin' with the taller one."

He nodded. "Good." An uncomfortable silence stretched out, and Chrys let it. She sensed that Bobby wasn't done with her, and she was content to wait.

"Look, Sam's going to need a lot of help through this," Bobby said quietly. "He fucked up, he knows it. And Dean ain't gonna go easy on him. So I don't know what kind of relationship you guys have, but if you're really his soulmate-"

She stopped him by placing her hand on his, meeting his eyes. "I will do everything in my power to make sure that Sam is okay, Bobby," she said softly. "I'm in love with him, Bobby. I'm sticking here, fighting with you guys." She smiled and stood up, stemming her tears from long years of practice. "So get used to me, Singer, you'll be seeing a lot of me."

He examined her for a minute, then, "Good," he said gruffly. "Now get outta here, I need my beauty sleep."

She grinned and leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. "Damn right," she said softly.


The men were already in the parking lot when she found them. She heard the tail end of their conversation.

"I'm just, I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?" Dean was saying.

Sam's shoulders were tense. Chrys sensed that this wasn't a conversation she was meant to hear, but she came forward anyway, placing a hand on Sam's arm as she came up next to him. "What can I do?" he asked brokenly.

Dean looked at him evenly. "Honestly, nothing. I just don't… I just don't think we can ever be what we were, you know?"

Sam nodded and looked down.

"I just don't think I can trust you."

Sam's head snapped up, and the look on his face tore at Chrys's heart. "Okay, that's my cue," she said softly. She met Dean's eyes, and while the pain there upset her greatly, her priority was Sam. "Let's go find a motel and crash, boys. Separate rooms. Let's all just take a breath, okay? Back at it tomorrow." She gave Dean a weak smile. "Go on ahead, Dean. I have some cash, we'll get a cab."

He nodded after examining her for a moment, and she thought she saw gratitude in his eyes. He got into the Impala, started her, and drove away without another word.

She turned to Sam. "Come on, Winchester, let's go get a room."

He looked down at her, seemingly not hearing her. "Chrys…" he whispered sadly.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. His arms came around her and crushed her to his chest, his chin resting on her head. "God, Chrys, I…"

"You fucked up, Sammy," she said softly, not letting go when he stiffened. "You fucked up, and Dean needs some time. Let's try to give it to him, okay?" She looked up into his eyes. "Come on, let's go get a room, Sam."

He stayed where he was for a moment, and she gently pulled his phone out of his back pocket, leaning back a little to call a cab. "It's okay, handsome," she murmured reaching up to put a hand on his face as she pressed the phone to her other ear. "I'll take care of everything."


Sam was silent the whole cab ride to the motel. The only clue she had to his shift in mood was the way he tensed when they saw the Impala in the parking lot. Dean was in the same motel. Chrys didn't say anything about it, just tugged Sam toward the room she had booked for them.

She got them in and settled. When she turned to talk to Sam, he was already at her mouth. She gasped, her mind racing to catch up with his roaming hands and his insistent lips. She gave up and just kissed him back.

He pushed her back until her knees hit the bed. She squeaked and fell back, a little overwhelmed. He should know, she thought nervously. "Sam, I-"

"I need you, Chrys," He said hotly, crawling up her body slowly. "Please, I don't understand, but I need you."

She was helpless against the begging in his eyes. Well, maybe he doesn't need to know.

So she nodded and ran her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. "Okay, Sam."

He kissed her hard, shifting to rest his weight on one arm. The other hand went to her waist, running it up her stomach, pushing her shirt up with it until he cupped her breast. She gasped at his hot moan when he realized she wasn't wearing a bra. "Jesus, Chrys, do you ever wear underwear?"

She laughed softly. "No," she said with a smirk, meeting his eyes. "That a problem, Winchester?"

Instead of answering, he bent his head to tug her nipple into his mouth. She moaned and arched her back, tunneling her fingers through his soft hair and holding his head to her. "Fuck, Sam!"

She felt him grin against her breast, then he moved over to pay her other one the same attention. She writhed beneath him, panting.

He suddenly sat up, his eyes dark and his chest heaving. "Take your clothes off, Chrys," He said roughly.

Heat spiraled through her, making her dizzy. She sat up and stripped her shirt off, never breaking their eye contact. She lay back and lifted her hips to push her long skirt off of her hips. She kicked it off and lay back on her elbows. She thought briefly about being self conscious, but ignored it. She knew she looked good naked, fuck it.

"Now you," she said softly, cocking an eyebrow.

He reached behind his head to pull his shirt off, and she inhaled sharply. Sweet Mary, mother of God. He was perfect. Every muscle in a man's stomach that made smart girls dumb was clearly defined on Sam. Every muscle moved when he reached down undo his belt buckle, and she got dizzy again.

She tore her eyes away from his incredible torso back up to his face. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the smug smirk on his face. Apparently she wasn't the only one who knew what she looked like naked. She shrugged. "You're all right," she said, letting the heat in her voice take the bite from her words.

"Well you're spectacular," he said softly, undoing his pants and pushing them down. He reached down and rustled through his pockets, coming back up with a condom in his hand. He put it between his teeth and stepped out of his jeans, crawling up the bed until he was face to face with her.

She kept her eyes on his, suddenly much more nervous than she had been. She tried to cover by leaning up to press her lips against jaw. He gave a shuddering breath and rested his weight one one arm again, letting his other hand travel down her body.

She gasped when one thick finger ran through her wet folds. She was very glad he wasn't looking at her face, worried that he would see surprise.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he muttered, leaning down lay kisses down her neck.

"Oh, God, Sam," she moaned, writing when his finger slowly sank into her. "Fuck."

"Do you like that, beautiful?" he whispered hotly in her ear, sending more heat coursing through her.

"Sam."

"Say it, beautiful, tell me you like it."

Blushing, she let her eyes fluttered closed. "Yes, I like it," she whispered.

He smiled against her ear, slipping a second finger into her. "Good girl," he whispered.

She was whimpering, her hips moving in rhythm with his hand. There was a hot, tightly sprung coil in her belly, it was coiling tighter and tighter, but it wasn't enough. "Please, Sam, please."

His fingers picked up their pace and he smiled against her ear again. "Please what, beautiful? Tell me what you want, beautiful, and I can give it to you."

She whimpered, suddenly shy again. If you had spoken up…

She shook her thoughts away internally, and met his eyes. She'd always been a "face it head on" kind of girl, anyway. "Fuck me, Sam, please," she begged softly, relishing the way his already dark eyes darkened at her words.

Then he grinned. "Good girl."

He slipped his fingers out of her, and she whined in the back of her throat at the loss. She watched as he sat back, ripping the foil packet with his teeth and rolling the condom on.

Chrys tried hard to keep a poker face when her eyes landed on his cock. Sweet Jesus. He was huge there, just like he was huge everywhere else. That is not gonna fit. The truth was on the tip of her tongue again, a trickle of fear dampening the heat in her belly.

She didn't get the chance before he moved quickly, kneeling between her legs. "I swear, Chrys, it will be different next time," he promised roughly as he put his big hands under her knees and pulled her closer. "I just can't tonight, God, I need you so much, beautiful."

His words both soothed and scared her more. But the naked need in his face killed the words she had been about to speak. She needed so much to be there for him, in whatever way he needed her. "It's okay, Sammy, it's okay."

He nodded and lined himself up with her entrance, the tip of his cock slipping through her hot folds. Her eyes fell shut and she sighed deeply.

"Look at me, beautiful," he said softly.

She wouldn't be able to shield her emotions from him if she looked at him. "Just fuck me, Sam, God."

He growled and gripped her legs tighter. He entered her slowly, both of them gasping. Chrys had never felt anything like it, she was being…. Stretched. Filled.

Just before he was buried in her completely, she felt a twinge of pain, and couldn't keep the wince off of her face. He stilled in her. "Chrys?"

"I'm fine, Sam," she said softly.

"This isn't going to be gentle, beautiful," he hushed. "You need to tell me if you're in pain."

She shook her head. "It's okay, Sam."

"Look at me, Chrys."

She gathered herself for a moment, then tilted her head up to look at him, trying to put the get the heat back into her eyes. "Sam. For fuck's sake, just do something."

He examined her face for another moment, then nodded. "Fine, beautiful."

He moved out of her, and she barely got a moan out before he was filling her again. He set a punishing pace, leaned back and slamming into her. It wasn't long before the heat was back for real. Chrys didn't know what the hell she was doing, but she listened to her body and moved her hips in rhythm with his, gasping in unison with him when new sensations wracked her body.

The coil was back, tighter and tighter until she was writhing again. "Fuck, Sam!"

He moved quickly again, moving to rest his body over hers. One of his hand moved down, and his finger started its dance on her clit again. He leaned down and bit her neck, and she cried out when he sucked hard, knowing he was marking her. She was so close, and even if she was fuzzy on exactly what it was she was close to, she knew she wanted it, and she knew Sam could get her there.

"Do you want to come, beautiful?" He rasped into her ear, his fingers increasing their pressure.

"Yes, Sam, please!"

"Then do it," he growled.

Chrys's world shattered, and she tilted her head back and screamed as she came. "Sam!"

His rhythm became erratic, and she gasped when he bit her neck again, moaning into her as he came and she calmed down.

After a moment, he gave a shuddering breath and rolled onto his back, hooking an arm arm around her to to pull her with him. She settled herself on his chest, smiling down at him. "Hi," she said softly, her shyness returning.

He chuckled, and she felt the rumble in his chest. "Hey, beautiful." He moved his hand up to brush her hair away from her face. His hand moved behind her head and wrapped her hair in his hand, pulling it up to drape over her shoulder and spill onto his chest. "Have I ever told you that I love your hair?"

She shook her head, entranced. "No, you haven't."

"Well, I do," he whispered, running his hand through the black, wavy locks.

She blushed and sat up. "I'm gonna go clean up, and you aren't invited."

Before he could respond, she jumped up and moved quickly into the bathroom. She spun and locked the door, then set her back against it and slid down to the floor. She buried her head in her hands and let the tears come, thanking the powers that be that she knew how to cry without making a sound.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.


Sam frowned, surprise pinning him to the bed. Um… What just happened?

He reviewed what had happened, and could find nothing wrong. It had been great, earth shattering sex, and he knew she had come. A woman didn't scream like that if she wasn't orgasming.

He heard the shower start and stood up, pulling the condom off, tying it, and tossing it into the trash.

He would wonder for years why he didn't see the traces of blood on it.


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