(This chapter contains M rated content.)

Rachel slowly stirred, her eyes heavy as she opened them, finding herself in the smashed up car with Sam next to her. He was unconscious. "Sam," she hoarsely whispered, her head throbbing and her body aching. She fumbled against her seat belt, pressing her fingers to Sam's neck. He was fine, but she had no idea how long he would be knocked out for. She clumsily pawed in her jean pocket, taking out her cell phone and slowly dialing Dean's number.

"Where are you guys?" Dean asked when he picked up.

"Dean," Rachel managed, her voice strained, "we need help. Sam is knocked out."

"What the hell happened?"

"Accident. We were run off the road. Mile marker 26." Rachel groaned as she tried to move her leg. "I think I broke my leg."

Dean whirled the Impala around in an erratic U turn. "Shit. Hang in there. Stay on the phone with me."

As she was about to say okay, her door swung open, and she flew out of the car in mid air. Her scream filled Dean's ear, even with the distance. "Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, slamming on the excelerator. "Cas, I need you to take the angel blade and get to Sam and Rachel now! Arioch is there!"

"Where are they?" Castiel asked.

"Mile marker 26."

Castiel disappeared with the blade, leaving Dean fuming as he tore down the road. He could hear Rachel screaming in the distance over the phone; he tossed his on the passenger's seat, flying down the highway after them.

At the scene of the accident, Rachel was trying to break out of Arioch's touch. He was using the same vessel as before. But whenever he touched her, she slowed and became weakened. She tried to fight it when her mind told her she should, but she wasn't able to. Arioch's power was far too great.

Hearing a snarl to her left, Rachel was knocked free of Arioch's grip, her conscious rapidly coming back to her. She saw Sam wrestling Arioch, which was nearly pointless as Arioch threw him down like a rag doll. Before she could aid him, she was dragged to Arioch by an invisible hand, then abruptly thrown to the ground. She looked up from the blacktop and saw Castiel wrestling against Arioch with unseen force, each cancelling out the other. Castiel grimaced as he pressed forward, nearing Arioch with the angel blade in hand.

As Castiel went to stab the vessel, Arioch exorcised himself, a blinding flash of white bursting into the air and disappearing. The vessel he used dropped to the ground, and Castiel checked the pulse, his face grim as he stood.

Sam bent down to Rachel and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. "Ow!" she cried out as she tried to put weight on her leg.

"Shit," Sam murmured, supporting her. "Cas!" Castiel came over, seeing Rachel favoring her leg. He pressed his fingers to her forehead and instantly the pain disappeared.

Rachel straightened in Sam's arms, still holding him for balance as she looked at her totaled car. Words wouldn't come, only tears as Dean slammed to a stop in the Impala in front of them. Sam stroked her hair, looking up at Dean as he approached. The two brothers shared a moment of silent communication and a confirming nod, an agreement that was easy to come to: If she wanted to, Rachel would live at the bunker for as long as she needed.

"Arioch?" Dean asked Castiel.

"Exorcised himself," Castiel grumbled.

"The vessel?"

"Gone."

Dean looked around at the mess they were going to leave behind—a body on the blacktop, a crushed car in a ditch, glass everywhere. "Let's get her home," he said quietly, heading back to the Impala. Sam guided Rachel forward, unwilling to let go of her as he climbed into the backseat with her, his arms surrounding her as she silently surrendered to him.

Less than two hours later, they were back at the bunker. Dean went straight for the fridge to withdraw a beer, offering one to Sam, who shook his head. "I'm going to get her settled," he said softly, Dean nodding in response.

Sam guided Rachel down the hall toward the bedrooms, passing the guest room and taking her straight to his room. "Wait here," he urged gently. "I'll go get your things."

Rachel's brows knit together. Even though she thought she knew what he meant, she needed confirmation. "You want me in here?"

Sam paused. "Only if you want to be."

She nodded, and he kissed her forehead, slipping out of the room and down the hall. Rachel sat on Sam's unmade bed, her head heavy and throbbing as she shrugged off his jacket. She wasn't entirely sure if she had processed what happened only hours ago, but for now, she felt a semblance of peace filtering in.

Sam returned, carrying her filled duffel and phone charger in, shutting the door behind himself. He plugged in the charger and Rachel connected her phone, resting it on the unused nightstand next to the bed. She rifled through her bag, producing a clean pair of pajamas and underwear, pausing as she looked at Sam. "I'm going to go shower," she murmured, quietly slipping out of the room and into the bathroom across from them.

When he heard the water run, Sam sighed deeply and sat on the mattress, running a hand through his hair. The entire day had taken nearly everything from all of them; he felt it deep in his bones as he tried to stretch the kinks out. Unable to rid himself of the tension, he stood and stripped down to his boxers, pulling on a pair of lounge pants over them and flopping back onto the bed, his arms folded behind his head. He shut his eyes, listening to the muffled sounds of the shower until it turned off, a short while later hearing her gentle footsteps toward his room.

Opening his eyes, he silently observed her. She was wearing a tiny pair of blue cotton shorts and a white tank top, her dark hair damp and fragrant from her shampoo, her glasses perched near the edge of her nose. He withdrew his hands and sat up, drawing back the blankets as she moved to the empty side of the bed, sitting her glasses on the nightstand. She climbed in, and he covered her, switching off the light and nestling against her back, his arms surrounding her. They were sore from her beating on them, but he didn't care. He pressed her as close as he could get her, placing a couple tentative kisses on her neck under her wet hair. A small moan caught in her throat, and he deepened the contact of his mouth to her skin. He forced himself to stay calm, his lips hungry and desperate to taste more, to explore her entire body and lose himself in her. Still, he kept his control, his focus remaining on her comfort.

Rachel turned in Sam's embrace. She could only see part of his face in the gentle glow of the nightlight across the room. Warmth bloomed in her as she stroked his cheek, reaching her mouth to his. She whimpered softly as her lips met his, his swallowed growl only making the heat within spread. He kissed her as if it were all that was keeping him alive, knowing his touch was all that was holding her together.

Sam sank his fingers into Rachel's wet hair, tugging gently on the roots as he lifted her mouth up to his own, claiming it with quiet power and control that healed her ache, his tongue exploring with abandon. A moan caught in her throat as he placed kisses along her cheek, jaw, and down the column of her neck, leaving trails of wet heat behind.

He stopped abruptly, squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled away, panting as he caught his breath. She watched his pained expression, confused. "Sam?" she whispered, desperate to feel his mouth and touch.

"I can't, sweetheart," he whispered back. "You're too vulnerable right now." His fingertips slid through her wet hair as he held her head, his heart failing to slow as he felt her.

"Sam," she urged, taking his bare arm and pulling herself closer, "I want you to."

He shook his head. Ever the gentleman, he fought his desire to respect her emotional state. Still, she wasn't satisfied. She pushed his back onto the mattress, straddling him as she ran her fingers through his hair. "You're not taking advantage," she assured gently, shivering as she felt his member pressed against her thigh. "I promise. I need you, Sam. I need to feel whole. Please."

Sam groaned as she lowered her weight onto him, his stiffness trapped between their stomachs. He devoured her mouth, a primal need taking over as he parted her lips with his tongue, staking his claim over her with a rumble in his chest. It had been so long since he had cared for someone that he was unable to slow his pace or lighten his touch. Everything about him conveyed urgency, dominance, shelter, protection. He wouldn't leave her to question if she was safe or wanted.

He flipped her over, pressing her into the mattress with ownership. "Then you're mine," he countered above her, both tender and demanding. "And I am yours. I don't want something temporary or meaningless."

She looked up at him through glassy eyes. He was serious. "I don't either," she agreed.

"Good." He paused, a soft laugh escaping his nose. "Because it would be hard as hell to have you in arm's reach every day and to not be able to do anything about it."

Her eyes widened. "So … I can stay here?"

His brow wrinkled as he smiled and nodded. "Yes. Of course. You never have to leave, if you don't want to. Because you belong here now."

She shut her eyes as he wiped her tear away. His husky words and gentle, supple lips over her cheek and jaw made her core ache, the promise of both physical connection, and of family, filling her with warmth and peace. "Sam," she shuddered, arching up to him, "please."

"Are you sure?" he asked in a breathy whisper in her ear.

"I'm about to get my gun if you don't do something—anything—to me right now."

With a devilish smirk, his mouth ravaged hers, one hand balancing as the other hungrily slid up the hem of her tank top. She shivered as his calloused fingers ran across the soft skin of her stomach, moaning in response as they skimmed up just under her bare chest. His mouth moved over her, suckling her neck as he closed his hand around her breast, massaging it with a grunt as she arched into his touch. Her nails dug into his skin, clinging to him as he caressed, eliciting a beautiful whimper from her.

He stripped her tank top off, pausing as he took her in. "God damn, you're beautiful," he whispered, his mouth immediately latching onto her breast as he straddled her, giving them the friction they both sought. Her hands sank into his hair, gasping as he switched sides, enthusiastically exploring her breasts. His hand fluttered down her ribcage to her hips, his curious fingers gliding across the warm flesh under the waistband of her shorts. Sam trailed his mouth down her stomach and over her ribs, gripping her as he sampled every inch of her skin. Her core ached as neared the edge of her shorts, squeezing her eyes shut as he ripped them off of her with a passionate growl.

All of her barriers removed, Sam explored Rachel's lower stomach, his tongue teasing her navel, smiling into her skin as he felt her squirm. He took hold of her slender thighs, his long fingers running over them as he parted her, his lips pressing kisses along the tender flesh inside of each. He was somewhere between caring and carnal, encouraged by the whimpered sounds she made. With a lusty groan, he moved his fingers deep into her center, watching her as he pleasured her. "Shit," he breathed in response to the image; her eyes were closed, arms surrendered in abandon above her head, her hips arching to him as she gasped and quivered, his name a string of chants on her lips. Tearing himself from the sight, his lips joined his fingers, his tongue eagerly tasting her.

"Oh fuck, Sam," Rachel gasped, her hips bucking into his face.

"Fuck yes, baby girl," he growled as he parted to catch his breath, plunging back in and bringing her over the edge with a scream she muffled into her own hand, his own hips restless as he pleasured her through her shockwaves.

"Please Sam," she begged as she descended, her voice barely above a whisper as he withdrew, "I need you."

Yanking off the remainder of his clothes, he wrapped her into his arms, guiding his stiff member slowly into her. "Shit," she hissed; he froze.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, hovering over her.

"No, just … it's …" She swallowed, trying to wet her parched throat. "It's been a while," she managed.

He kissed her tenderly. "Do you want me to stop?"

"I will murder you if you do."

Focusing on taking his time, Sam breathed heavily as he inched into her, her tightness nearly immediately doing him in. She shivered as he stretched and filled her, sinking fully into her and stilling for a few moments before slowly moving his hips. His rhythm matched her moans; she buried her face into his shoulder, his strokes faster and harder with each thrust. He was controlled chaos, primal sounds rumbling in his throat as he made friction against her, building her pleasure back up.

"Mine," he whispered into her ear as he sent her over the edge a second time, barely clinging onto sanity as he remained in her through it, reveling in her shuddered gasps and soft screams. As quickly as he could, he withdrew and added the only layer he was willing to, sinking back into her with a grunt. He wasted no time, his broad body driving her small one deep into the mattress, need taking over reason as he crept to the edge. His finger flicked over her with fervor to bring her one last wave of quivering pleasure, his teeth and lips sinking into her shoulder as he released in her in tandem, her name among heady curses shuddering from his mouth as his hips rocked into hers.

He held her, balancing his weight above her as he remained inside of her after they descended, their bodies sheen with sweat, her inner thighs damp. He gently kissed her, his lips sealing a promise of belonging over hers. "You're home," he whispered against her mouth, a rasp to his voice. "You're mine, baby girl."