Title: Bobby's Daughter

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize…

Warnings: Sexual situations.

Notes: I loved how you were all like 'Darn, Sammy ruined it!' Lol. That was great! Enjoy!

Enjoy!

Later? This guy wanted later? Nope. How's that for later?

He managed to stand on the stairs and put his jeans back on before pulling me up by the waistband of my own. "Sorry, Syd," he whispered, "Family before pleasure."

For some reason that didn't offend me. Either way, he walked down the stairs and turned into the living room. I went back to my room and threw on a shirt. I winced at my wounds which I had cleaned before touching Sammy. (Can't mix blood. Not a good thing.)

I went downstairs and into the living room. "How's he doing," I asked Dean with a smile.

"Good," Dean answered. "Wounds aren't bleeding anymore."

"And you," I asked him.

"Doesn't hurt a bit," he replied with a smile before turning to Sammy. "Sam, this is Syd Singer."

"Russo," I corrected. "I don't go by my father's name."

Sam sat up and looked me up and down – getting his first impression. "As in Bobby Singer's daughter?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"We're staying here for a day or two," Dean told Sam. "Until you heal."

Sam nodded. "What did this?"

"Stupid ghost," Dean cursed. "Bitch that it was. Syd and I took care of it though."

"You hunt," the younger asked, directing the question at me.

"No; just this once."

Sam nodded as Dean interrupted, "Listen, Sammy, go back to sleep. You've been through hell dude. Almost literally." Okay, crappy joke, Dean. "Syd's tired and so am I. We'll hit the sack." I bet you're thinking about that a different way than I am. "And talk to you tomorrow, cool?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sam answered like an obedient child. He snuggled down into the couch. "Night, Syd. And thanks." He flashed me a grin before looking to his brother. "Night, dude."

Dean ruffled his brother's hair. "Night, Sammy."

Sam's sighed. "It's Sam."

"Whatever," Dean said, turning around. I walked in front of him and into the foyer. Dean flipped the light switch, putting Sam in darkness.

I walked upstairs, ignoring the Winchester. I no sooner got to the doorway of my bedroom and Dean grabbed my elbow.

"Where were we," he asked in that husky tone, pulling me flush up against him. One hand snaked around my stomach and the other went to the button on my jeans. I pushed the latter one away before attempting to get the first one.

"You were just about to head to the guest room."

He grabbed the wrist that was trying to get his hands off of me (the other one was pinned between my body and his arm) before handing it to his other hand. His empty hand went back down to the button on my jeans again.

"Not so sure about that, Sydney," he whispered, licking an 'S' on my bare shoulder blade.

"See: I was," I told him. He had two more seconds before I gave him a nice shiner. "Get off."

He left a kiss here and there all across my back. Okay, two more seconds and I might just give in. No. No. That's what he wanted. "Syd," he whispered in that voice again, "let me…" He didn't finish that thought.

I had turned and slammed him up against the hallway wall opposite my bedroom door. "Winchester, you have five seconds to get in your room before I kick your sorry ass out of my house."

"Sydney," he tried to breathe and talk at the same time since I was holding his airway closed. "Please let go."

"Why?"

"I'll have to hurt you if you don't."

I scoffed.

Then he got me. He had flipped us over so I was against the wall. He shoved me up so I had no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist. Bastard.

With one hand he pinned my hands above my head. The other he let slip up my tank top. He pushed a little harder causing me to feel the want that we had ignored when Sam called.

"Oh, shit," I cursed, head lulling back.

"Yeah, I know," he whispered, mouth coming down on my shoulder.

I let him taste my skin for a few seconds before deciding that I didn't want to sleep with the great Dean Winchester. He could take care of his want out in the Impala (a friend offered to fix it up for me, so until then it was in the driveway), because I sure as hell wasn't going to do it; and if he did it in my house: boy, he'd pay.

"Okay, D.W.," I told him, "Take care of that outside."

His tongue went a little further south, gracing the edge of my bra. "Why? You can do it for me. Pretty well, I'm guessing." I leaned back against the wall before shoving forward, causing him to lose his balance and hit the ground hard, with me on top. "Shit, Syd," he hissed when the cut on his shoulder got jerked around.

"Yeah, shit, Dean," I told him. I was about to get up when I got a very, very, very, very nasty idea.

I let my finger trace his want slowly. Just once though. This pleasure caused his back to arch.

I stood up and walked in my bedroom. Turning around in the doorway, I whispered to him, "Enjoy," and locked the door behind me.

I faintly heard the whisper, "Fuck you, Sydney."