In the End

God, he really hoped she knew what she was doing, because by the look on Dean's face, this could end only two ways, and both of them were very, very bad.

Crowley gave Dean probably the smuggest smile he could as he turned and followed Ali down the hall, headed towards the dungeon, disappearing before Dean turned that glare onto his brother.

"This is the dumbest thing I have ever seen the two of you come up with, and you have come up with some pretty stupid shit." Dean scolded as he walked past Sam, the map table and up into the library. Sam took a deep breath, kept his eyes on that hallway just a little longer and then turned and followed.

"Look, Dean, she's just worried about you, okay, she caved in and realized that you didn't want to do this, so she went to the next step, the only next step we had." Sam argued and Dean grabbed a beer out of the mini-fridge that he had placed by one of the book racks. "She's looking out for your safety."

"And letting the King of Douchebags do whatever he wants to her to bring it out?" Dean snapped. "Why are you not down there?"

"She asked me not to be."

"Oh yeah, because that's something you would totally do." Dean rolled his eyes, "that's like me letting Cas go into an abandoned building alone without backup, isn't going to happen, so why are you still up here and not down there with our girl?"

"She said to wait five minutes and then head down, they were discussing rules," Sam sighed, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Dean watched him expectantly, the bottle barely reaching his lips when Sam, who had basically run out of patience, turned quickly and headed off down the hall. He heard his brother place the bottle roughly down on the table.

"Now that's what I'm talking about." Dean's voice echoed from behind him.

With a deep sigh, Sam stopped at the entrance of the room, his hands clenched into fists as he looked at the man in the black tailored suit.

Crowley looked up, his hand going gently up the length of the small crop that was in his hand until his fingers drifted over the small leather piece at the end, but his eyes were locked on the man behind Sam, as Dean stepped up.

Sam could hear him breathing, Dean that is, the way he was now taking quick breaths as he watched the way the Crowley almost pet the objects on the table, until the demon picked up the cat-o-nine and fingered his way through the whip's ends. Sam heard Dean's breath hitch.

Ali stood at the far end of the table, dressed but bare-legged, one arm across her chest, one bent so she was running fingers against her lips and her eyes were locked on Sam, at least until she saw Dean.

Sam could see the shift in her, the need for Dean to be in there instead of the demon and Dean growled. A deep noise that seemed to make his whole being vibrate enough so that Sam could feel it.

Dean pushed past him, knocking into Sam as he entered the room, and the older brother stopped right in front of Crowley.

"Get out," was the only low warning that Crowley got and Sam saw the grin rise up on the demon's cheeks.

"Are you sure you can handle yourself, Squirrel? She's not a toy, you know." Crowley warned, but Dean's eyes went up to Ali.

"Trust me, I know just how to handle her." It sounded just as seductive as the words themselves and Ali shivered. "Now," Dean drew in a breath, puffing his chest up, "get out."

"As you wish," Crowley smirked, stuffing his hands in his pockets before he turned to Ali, "if you need anything, Pet, just call."

"She's not going to need anything from you," Dean snarked and Crowley looked him over again.

"No, I suspect she'll be well satisfied," he quipped and walked out of the room to stand just behind Sam.

Dean clenched his fist, but Sam could only see his back as he breathed. Ali didn't smile, in fact she didn't move, she just stood there, looking him over, head to toe before Dean raised a hand and squeezed his fingers.

The cabinets to the dungeon room slammed closed.

Sam swallowed, like there was a stone stuck in his throat and he raised his hand to the door, breathing in the best he could as his heart skipped.

God, did he hope she knew what she was doing.

Turning his back to the door, he leaned against it, hands tented over his nose as he waited in silence, to the point that Crowley got bored and left, probably actually telling him he was leaving, but Sam couldn't remember.

Time ticked by. There was no noise from behind the wall, which Sam found odd because with Dean and Ali, there was always noise. The seconds were endless and Sam found himself pacing, even ready to knock the damn thing down but that was when he heard it.

DEAN screamed.

Rushing at the door, Sam found that he could open it without issue and he moved so fast that it knocked against the wall. He expected something, but not this.

Standing in the middle of the room, one hand out on the "whipping post" in the middle was Dean, trapped in a blazing sigil, his eyes black as night as he stared at Ali. His eyes moved to Sam as the blue glowing flames grew higher before they suddenly went out and Dean was falling to his knees.

He never hit the floor.

Sam was wrapped around him, holding him up, slowly bringing him down to rest as Ali walked over, grabbed the small glass bottle that swirled with red dust, almost like a hurricane in a bottle experiment. She sighed, set it on the table and kneeled down in front of Dean, putting her hands on his face to make sure that he was okay.

That was when Sam noticed it.

Her clothes were in a pile in the corner, yet she was wearing Dean's maroon button-up, and Dean was completely dressed.

"What the hell happened in here?" Sam questioned and Dean smiled, laughed actually, and Ali BLUSHED.

Ever observant, Sam noticed the tickler on the floor and the crop, and… well there were several other toys laying around and his eyes snapped up to Ali.

"I never touched her," Dean whispered and closed his eyes, slumping against his brother, exhaustion taking over.

"What did you do?" Sam's voice was soft, caring and Ali took in a deep breath.

"I told you," she said shyly and looked away. Sam brought his fingers up to her chin and turned her gently to face him, the worried crease of his brow gave him just the edge he needed to get her to talk. "Not my first rodeo."

"Ali," his voice was breathless.

"Can we go upstairs now?" She begged and Sam nodded.

"Yeah."

With Dean asleep on the bed, Sam turned to Ali, as she stood in the doorway staring at Dean, the bottle in her hand.

Sam walked over, slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her towards him while they headed in the direction of his room. Once there, Sam placed the bottle on the dresser and pulled her down on his lap.

"What happened in there?" He questioned, gently.

"I…" Ali stopped, not that she was ever embarrassed before but he watched as the words just didn't want to come out.

"Hey," Sam cupped her face with his palms, fingers dancing over her cheeks and through her hair. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me."

"Can you…" She closed her eyes against the warmth of him.

"What, Ali, what do you need?" he wanted to take care of her, needed to take care of her.

"Touch me," she sighed, letting go of something as her body pressed against him. "Sam, I need you to touch me, anywhere, everywhere… I just…"

"Shh," he whispered as his lips brushed hers and she let out a low, barely-there moan, "I got you, always."

Whatever happened in there wasn't something she was going to let go of easily, but in the end it all worked, at least for that part of the spell. Right now, all he cared about was taking care of her, and the light touches he cascaded over her body.

Light enough… until she needed more.