Dean stands up, wiping his hands on a grease rag. "Why? So you can yell at me some more?" He asks, turning his back to me and walking over to a tool box. I follow.

"I'm sorry for that, " I answer calmly. I hadn't come out to argue. I truthfully want to get past this predicament. "I'm actually grateful you were worried and I am totally thankful that you are okay."

Turning his attention to me, Dean folds his arms and says, "Well, you couldn't tell by the way you acted, Nicole." I sigh, knowing he only uses my whole name if he is pissed or frightened. And, I can tell this time he is pissed.

"I really don't want to fight, Dean. Okay, yes I'll admit I could've handled that differently but I hadn't heard from you in three weeks. I thought you had left for good. I messaged both you and Sam and never got an answer. I thought you were tired of me and you didn't want to tell me and Sam didn't know how to tell me so you were ignoring me," I tell him honestly.

His eyes take on a softer expression and his shoulders slump.

"I was arrested for-" he begins but I interrupt.

"I know. Sam explained it to me."

Dean chuckles, "Good ole Sammy, huh?"

I smile. "Yea, good ole Sammy trying to fix us because we don't know how to." I walk up to him and put my hands on his arms. "Dean, I just wanted to help you with everything Jo told you. But you pulled away from me and then left. I thought you were through with me, with us."

"Baby, it had nothing to do with that; not in the slightest. I promise," Dean begins, trying to explain his actions toward me before he and his brother disappeared for three weeks. "I had stuff to work through on my own. Believe me, if I thought you could've helped, I would have let you. See, when Jo told me that Dad was the reason she lost her father at such a young age, it hit me hard. "
"You have feelings for her, don't you?" I ask, literally feeling my heart breaking. "You want to try a relationship with her because you feel guilty about what your dad did. So you're going to make it up to her by giving her what she wants, you."
"God, no, Nic! I don't see her that way. Never have. I've told you that. But guilt, I don't know if that's what I feel. It wasn't me that used her father. But I do know what it feels like to know you are the reason someone is dead.

"A year ago, I almost died. I had a heart attack after being electrocuted killing a demon. I was dying, my heart was severely damaged. Doc only gave me a month to live. Sam heard about a preacher who supposedly performed miracles. The miracles came from a reaper that was being summoned by the preacher's wife. The reaper was finding people and killing them and sending their lives to the people this so-called faith healer chooses to heal. Whatever is wrong with the diseased person, the minute they are healed someone dies of the exact same thing. I'm the reason Marshall Hall, a 27 -year-old athlete just keels over? From a heart attack at the same exact moment I was healed. It wasn't coincidence."

"Dean, that wasn't your fault either," I tell him. "That was the preacher's wife's doing. She was the one who summoned the reaper. All those deaths are on her." I bend down to look into his eyes when he hangs his head. I wanted to maintain eye contact so he could see what I was saying was the truth. "Hey, just think of all the ones you saved by being able to stop the reaper from taking more souls for her to keep up the facade. You are a good man, Dean Winchester."

A small smile crosses his lips before he raises his head and looks at me. "How mad are you going to be when I tell you we went back to the Roadhouse?"

"What? Why?"

"I had to go back, Nic. I had to apologize to Ellen. I just couldn't not do that," he explains. "Even after all that, she's helped us with tracking down others like Sammy. She's given is advice on hunts when we were stumped on cases. She's the one who told Sammy not to trust Gordon. And she was right."

"I understand," I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck. His encircle my waist.

"Are we good babe?" I asked him, which earns me a full smile.

"Yea, we're good," he whispers as he lowers his head and his lips meet mine.

That night, after almost a month of sleeping alone, Dean joins me in bed and I snuggle up to his side, placing my head on his chest. "G'night Dean."

"Night, Nic." I am almost out when I feel his lips touch my hair.

Later that night, or really early morning, I am awakened by someone whispering my name. I open my eyes and turn my head to see Sam kneeling by the bed, a look of terror on his face. Dean is above me, snoring lowly.

"What is it, Sam?" I whisper, trying to not to wake my boyfriend.

"I need to talk to you."

Untangling my legs from Dean's and wriggling out of his grasp is a task but I am finally able to do it; thankful that I had went to sleep fully clothed since Sam is right there when I stand up.

He grabs my wrist and drags me out of the room and downstairs. In the kitchen he let me go and starts pacing.

"Sam! What's wrong?" His behavior is beginning to worry me.

"I had another vision, Nic. It's bad."

"Okay," I tell him. "Let's sit down and try to figure it out." I pull a chair out from the table and sit down, him mimicking me.

"What did you see, Sam?"

"Dean," he says.

"You saw your brother?" I ask, confused. Why seeing his brother in a vision was bad is being my comprehension.

"It wasn't just him," Sam says, running his fingers through his hair. "It's what he was doing."

"And what's that?" I reluctantly ask, letting ideas of Dean with other women run through my mind. To me, right now, that's the worse he can do. And I really don't think I want to hear that Sam saw a vision of it since so far all of Sam's vision have come true.

"Nic, I think he shoots an innocent man."