Authors Note: Hey guys! Here's chapter 2, hope you like it! follow/favorite if you do, comment and let me know your thoughts, your feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks, and enjoy!

Gadreel

The Bunker; Lebanon, Kansas

As soon as Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester, his vessel, had settled the woman into one of the many rooms in this place, the Bunker, and Dean had left to do what he would with his time, Gadreel emerged from the corners of Sam's consciousness. Feeling his angelic power flood through Sam Winchesters body for the second time that night, white light briefly lit up the room as he came to the forefront of Sam's mind. Gadreel slowly walked over to the woman- to Daleney's -sleeping form, watching her countenance carefully for signs of wakefulness. Her features were beautiful, regal even. A soft jawline and elegant cheekbones framed her almond shaped eyes, which he knew were hued a vibrant amber, and straight nose, which was dotted with numerous almost unperceivable freckles. Her pink lips parted gently as she breathed softly. Her messy dark brown hair that curled around her face and onto the pillow upon which her head rested looked so soft, as if inviting him to entangle his fingers in it and feel just how giving it would be to his touch.

Internally shaking himself at getting lost in this human again, he tore his gaze away from her face and focused on her bloodstained torso. He gently rolled her soaked tank top up to fully assess the state of her laceration. Her golden tan skin was marred by large patches of dried crusted blood; several small scarlet trickles still oozed from the wound. It was worse than he had originally assumed. The cut was not wide, but it was deep, having broken her rib, which bruised the skin above it and caused slight internal bleeding. To properly heal her injuries and conserve his strength he would have to slowly heal her over time, in stages. For now he would heal the broken rib, internal bleeding and as much bruising as he could, and though it would hurt less it wouldn't eliminate all of her pain.

He brushed his fingertips down her side, a faint glow radiating in the room as the bruises turned from a deep purple, to a sickly greenish yellow, and then faded away altogether. His brow wrinkled slightly as he assessed his strength, and finding it adequate, he began healing her rib. It mended quickly, and healed nicely, but the warmth of Gadreel's healing power radiating through her body awoke her. She stirred, her lips parting in a gentle breath, her eyes opening slowly.

Gadreel stepped back, unsure of how to proceed. His first instinct was to retreat back into Sam's mind, but he realized he very much wanted to hear her voice, perhaps even speak to her. Her eyes darted around the room, clouded with pain, before locking to his gaze. Gadreel felt his breath hitch involuntarily; her eyes were so piercing, so warm.

"Am I dreaming?" she asked softly, scooting herself back to look up at him, her face so sweet and hopeful, upturned to look into his eyes.

His felt his face heat up as an unfamiliar feeling flooded through him. He did not want to lie, but he must heal himself if he was going to heal Sam Winchester and her. He stepped forward cautiously, leaning down to get closer to her.

"You're Sam….but you're not Sam," she rasped in a smooth gravelly tone. It was not a question, just a statement. There was no judgement in her voice, only curiosity and, dare he say, kindness.

Gadreel paused before speaking "Yes," he replied, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed, "you are dreaming Magdalena" To his surprise, she smiled warmly at him, the smile lighting her face up.

"It's a good dream then," she replied, running her hand down the side of her torso, wincing before examining her wound, undoubtedly surprised by the lack of pain.

"I healed you," he said softly, meeting her eyes "Not fully; I am not yet strong enough, but sufficiently so that the pain will be bearable"

Her eyes went hazy and she swayed slightly, and Gadreel he knew her consciousness was fading again. He slid a hand up her neck and behind her head to keep it from smacking the headboard if she fainted abruptly. As his hand touched her skin he felt sharp, delicious tingles erupt in his flesh, moving through his body. He closed his eyes against the onslaught, and when he snapped them open again his breathing was slightly more labored.

"Thank you," she breathed out, and Gadreel inched his face closer to hers, as if being closer to her would help, fruitlessly studying her face for answers as to why this human caused such a dramatic reaction within him. "Come back to visit me?" She asked softly, her eyes drooping.

"Yes, I will come back to you" Gadreel replied automatically, unthinkingly.

Unable to stop himself he ran the backs of his fingers over her cheekbone and down her jawline. She leaned into his touch and he felt something well inside of him that he hadn't felt for thousands of years. "Sleep now" he murmured, sending power out through his fingers to drape her in slumber.

Almost instantly her eyes fell and she lost consciousness again. She looked so peaceful, so calm. He didn't want to leave, but he couldn't stay; there was much work to be done. Though he tried viciously to deny it, her presence made him feel, made him question as he hadn't in a very long time. And possibly most dangerous of all, what welled inside of him strongest was the one thing that could spell disaster for both himself and all those around him.

She made him feel, for the first time in countless millennia, hope.

Sam

Sam ran his hands through his long brown hair, briefly closing his eyes as a wave of exhaustion fell over him. The hunt today had really drained him, and as much as he tried to hide it from Dean, he knew, and felt, that he wasn't back up to speed yet. He just wanted to get back into the flow of things, of hunting, and for Dean to stop looking at him like he was gonna break apart any second. He sighed, running a hand over his weary face and into his hair, pushing it back from his eyes, and sank down into a chair next to the bed that he and Dean had settled Daleney into, allotting her one of the bunkers numerous vacant rooms to stay in. Her room was along the same hallway as his and Dean's rooms, located between the brothers rooms but situated slightly closer to Sam's. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd wanted to do that, but it had felt more right than anything had in a while, even more than he himself had, so he didn't think on it too much.

Daleney was fast asleep, curled onto her uninjured side, her features peaceful and calm. Careful to be quiet, Sam opened the first aid kit Dean had placed on her night stand, before going out on a beer run, and removed a few alcohol swabbing pads to clean her wound and fresh gauze to bandage it. He peeled her shirt up to where the shifter had stabbed her, wincing at the large patches of dried blood marring her golden tan skin. He gently peeled off the makeshift bandage Dean had put on earlier, when they'd run out of first aid supplies on the road, and surveyed her wound.

It was a dark line of red, stark against the flat, toned planes of her torso. Thankfully it wasn't too deep, no stiches needed, but it was bleeding profusely, having severed a line of muscle running horizontally along her ribs. She was lucky the cut was so shallow; it was unusual for a stab wound to not reach past the wall of muscle under the skin, especially with a torso wound. He had seen countless ribs serrated and even broken by stab wounds. Hell he'd felt a few ribs break in the large number of stab wounds he himself had received. She was either lucky, or had someone upstairs on her side. Sam's lips twitched caustically as he reminded himself there was no one left upstairs. He pushed those thoughts aside to focus on patching her up; this wound wouldn't heal on its own. Sam prepped the alcohol swab and gently dabbed it onto the cut, knowing it would smart like hell if she were awake.

Sure enough, after a few seconds of swabbing Daleney's eyes flew open and with a hiss of pain she attempted to sit up, dragging herself back towards the headboard, while her eyes darted around the room in confused panic. "Where am I, what is this place?" she asked in a low voice.

Sam dropped the swab and as he put his hands up to show that he meant no harm, he replied, "Daleney its okay, you're safe, it's me Sam, remember? You're at the bunker, the place where me and my brother live. We brought you here so you could heal, with no cops poking around to ask questions. We figured one member of your family in the hospital is enough to raise suspicion, two in one night would definitely get you an unwelcome investigation"

Seemingly satisfied with his reply, but still cautious, she nodded and relaxed a small measure and scooted forward again, placing her torso under Sam's hands. The corner of his mouth twitched as a brief surge of warmth coiled in his chest, a warmth, a hope, he quickly tried to suppress. Better he didn't get his expectations up. People around him usually ended up dead, or worse; he'd learned that lesson over and over, a lesson which was always taught the hard way.

And yet…as she allowed him to continue bandaging her, her skin felt warm to his touch and impossibly soft under his fingers. He felt her pulse fluttering through her veins, and as his eyes met her bright amber ones he felt a heat of a very different kind burn through him.

"How bad is the damage?" she asked, surveying his face carefully, as if looking for something.

"Well, the up side is that it could've been worse, the down side is that you might be sore for awhile" Sam said as he unwrapped a fresh alcohol swab. Before he continued cleaning her wound he searched her amber eyed gaze, "This may sting", he murmured apologetically before pressing the swab into the cut. Sam winced for her, since he knew it must burn like hell, but to her credit her only visible responses were her breath hitching in her throat and her jaw clenching as pain undoubtedly ripped through her.

"At least it's not a splash of whiskey, right" he said with a strained smile, trying feebly to make her feel better.

Her jaw unclenched slightly and Sam took that as progress, "I take it you know from experience" she said in a slightly strained voice. Sam felt his brow wrinkle with the weight of unpleasant memories, "Yeah," he murmured, clearing his throat, "a lot of motel room stitch up sessions." He paused, remembering all the times Dean had sewn him up, and he had sewn Dean up; remembering the pain of stitching up deep cuts with no anesthesia, of joints being popped back into their respective sockets without warning.

Clearing his throat and pushing those memories out of his mind, Sam sneaked a peak at her, glad to see her face soften a bit. "Almost done," he said, unwrapping a fresh pad of gauze and pressing it to the wound, securing it with tape. He tried to not let his fingers linger on her warm skin as he pressed down on the tape, ensuring that it was bandaged tightly.

"All done," Sam said, drawing his gaze away from her stomach to meet her eyes. She met his eyes with a warm smile, but she seemed weary, probably from blood loss, but also from something else he was sure had reflected in his own countenance; pain, soul deep pain.

"Was that your first kill?" Sam asked softly, suspecting that that was what was weighing on her.

She looked down at her arms folded in her lap, absently tracing the elegant cursive script tattooed on the inside of her left wrist, but Sam saw the wet glisten of tears starting to form in her eyes as she replied, "Yeah," she paused to clear her throat before continuing, "I guess driving a knife through the heart of something that looks like your sister can really take a toll on a person. I bet there's no therapy you can get for that kind of mental scarring" She said with a dark laugh.

"Hey, it's okay," Sam said, "my first hunt was traumatic, to say the least. I still have nightmares about it and it was a very long time ago" Sam paused, remembering how his hands shook as he tried to keep his hold on the shot gun he held in his small hands, sweat dripping down his neck and pooling on his palms. He had been so determined to not disappoint his father John, to make him proud, but his first kill had always sat wrong with him. Perhaps because some small part of him he knew it would only be the first drops of the oceans of blood that would end up on his hands.

The feeling of Daleney's small, slender fingers brushing over the back of his hand broke him out of his reverie. As she interlaced her fingers with his, meeting his eyes with a small smile, she said, "Then I guess we're both messed up," her smile widened a bit, "but at least we're not alone"

Sam allowed a small measure of promise to blossom in his chest at her words. No he was not alone, not anymore. And even if it didn't last, he was damn sure he was grateful for it now. He had a foreboding feeling he might need someone to lean on. But he had to ask himself, could Daleney handle the weight of his burdens?

Daleney

Sam's huge hand felt warm underneath her fingers, and as she traced the pattern his veins made against his skin she continued, "I'm glad I'm not alone tonight"

She peeked up at him and was glad to see his face soften with warmth at her words. He was so handsome with that strong jawline, long hair, and those hazel eyes. Abruptly she remembered the white glow that had emitted from those same eyes earlier that night. She must've imagined it, she'd never been stabbed before, who knew what the brain went through when an injury like that was sustained. Still she made a mental note to talk to Dean about it.

He smiled softly, almost shyly, and said, "You should rest," he absently ran a hand through his hair, she liked when he did that, "try to get as much sleep as you can. You can sleep in my room, I'll take the room right next to you"

"Are you sure it's okay that I sleep in here? I can move, it's totally-" she started, but he interrupted with a squeeze of the hand he still held in his, and a warm grin, "Yes I'm sure", Sam said as he draped a blanket over her, "Sleep tight, I'll be right next door if you can't sleep"

As he leaned over her to turn out the light on the bedside table Daleney could almost feel the heat of his body, smell the deep, clean scent of his skin. It had been a long time since she'd been this close to a nice, handsome guy. With all the shifts she was working at the bar and the voodoo shop, a nice date was hard to come by. And with her last relationship having ended so badly she hadn't been about to walk, arms open, into a binding, all strings attached, relationship.

Sighing out a thanks that quickly turned to a long yawn, she stretched her arms above her head. She didn't miss Sam scanning his eyes down her body, and she briefly flushed with warmth under his gaze. His own face colored slightly, and he kept his eyes on his hands as he muttered a goodnight and left the room.

He really was cute, and so big! The way he tended to her wounds told her he was gentle and kind and he could care for her. She felt safe here, with him. She felt sleep pulling at the corners of her eyes again, and gave herself to it with a smile.

As she drifted off, she began to dream.

She dreamt about Sam, smiling down at her, stroking her hair. They were in a small park, filled with leafy trees and blooming flowers, complete with several families milling about in the late afternoon sun. She and Sam were sitting together on a big fluffy blanket nestled into the green grass. Sam sat with his long legs stretched out before him, leaning back on his hands. She sat close to him, her legs across his lap, her torso settled into the crook of his arm. It felt so right to be here with him like this, grinning at each other like two teenagers on their first date.

The sun played in his blue-green eyes as he brushed an unruly curl behind her ear. He skimmed his fingers down her cheek and slowly drew his hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer to him. His eyes fell from her eyes to her lips, and back again as he whispered, "You are so beautiful…" She could tell he wanted to kiss her, and suddenly realized she very much wanted to kiss him too.

Sam leaned further in, their foreheads almost touching, and her hand automatically went to his chest, to draw up those firm planes and curl around his shoulder. "Kiss me…" she said, her voice barely above a whisper, not sure if her words were a question or a demand. As his lips drew mere millimeters away from hers, she realized it was definitely a demand; she yearned to feel his lips moving against hers. The thought sent a delicious shiver of excitement through her, and his fingers brushing the back of her neck prolonged the tingles.

Just as she felt the barest brush of his lips against hers, promising to bloom into a sweet, searing kiss, the dream changed.

She was back in the bunker, in Sam's room, settled into his warm cozy bed. Soft, inky darkness made cast the room into shadow. The open door let in soft light from the hallway, allowing her to distinguish the features of the figure in front of her. It was Sam; he sat on the edge of her bed, but something was off about him. He was Sam, but he wasn't Sam. Recognition fired in her brain as his demeanor clicked with memories in the back of her mind.

"You came back" She said, a smile on her lips.

His own lips quirked into a soft smile, "I did" he trailed off, and looked down, almost guilty, "I couldn't stay away" he said as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

He seemed to be unconsciously leaning towards her, his eyes studying her face with a focused attention that made her blush

"There's something about you…I can't seem to control myself…" He trailed off as he slowly raised his hand, as if any sudden movements would spook her, and trailed the backs of his fingers along her cheekbones. The touch was so light she barely felt it, but as she leaned into his touch, he got bolder, moving his fingers to her jawline. As she felt his touch feather across her skin, it sent incredible shivers shooting down her spine.

"You don't have to control yourself" she said, her voice unconsciously soft, as if she were now the one that might scare him off. He leaned in further, and as his fingers twined in her hair he let out a soft groan.

"I would like to…I'm not sure how to proceed…I've never done this…May I…" his words trailed off as gaze broke from her eyes to her lips and down to his lap as he colored slightly.

"Kiss me?" She questioned softly, lifting his face back up to hers "Would you like to kiss me?"

His heated gaze met hers and a responding flare of warmth roared to life deep within her body, "Yes I would like that very much" he answered, his own voice soft and husky.

She tilted her face up to his ever so slightly, and in answer his fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her lips towards his. Her breath sped up as he took control and pulled her flush against his torso. He cradled her face with both his hands, as his thumbs brushed over her lips his eyes took in her eyes feature up close.

"Please…" she breathed out, desperate for his mouth moving over hers.

"Anything you wish" he replied, and he truly seemed to mean it. He would do anything for her, she could sense it. And right now, she was about to get exactly what she wanted. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her breath hitched. She could feel his hot breaths fanning over lips, could feel his hands in her hair pulling her closer.

She felt his lips brush just over hers…..

And she jolted out of sleep, her body tight with tension and brimming with unsated pleasure. Her hair stuck to her neck as small beads of sweat pooled down her shoulders. She huffed out a shaky breath, struggling to collect herself, and pushed her hair off her neck. Two wet dreams of Sam in one night? It really had been too long…

She felt the sharp pang of coiled up lust in her body and swiped the sheets off her heated skin. As she did, Sam's musky, delicious scent blossomed from the covers, permeating her already foggy brain with fresh arousal. How was she face him with these steamy dreams in the back of her mind? He was the epitome of everything she found sexy about a man, and somehow she found it even more erotic that she was having dreams about him while sleeping in his bed. At the rate her brain was dredging up fantasies, she would be getting no sleep.

Oh boy, She thought, falling back into the sheets, tomorrow is gonna be a long day….