You're sitting on top of the war room table, trying to stay calm as you watch Sam and Kevin carefully remove the containment spells from the stone.

For the first time since it changed Dean into a 4 year old, it's going to be free to do its thing. Dean is standing beside you, holding your hand and occasionally leaning close to kiss your brow or offer quiet words of reassurance.

There's a clock counting down in your mind. Any minute now, you're going to have to let go and just hope for the best. You've been growing steadily more anxious about this whole thing. You're pretty sure you're close to breaking Dean's hand, you're holding onto it so tightly.

You almost dying in the first attempt to fix him was bad enough. Now you're putting Dean at risk, too? For what? Is it really so bad for him to be a teenager if it means he's alive? Isn't is a bit shallow of you to be going along with this - risking his life - just to get him to the age you're used to?

Time stops for you when Sam stands and turns, giving the solemn nod that they're ready.

"Okay..." you hear Dean sigh.

You close your eyes tightly, as if you can somehow block this out.

He leans down, saying softly into your ear, "It's gonna be fine. You'll see. Ain't no way in hell I'm missing out on that nurse costume - believe that."

You laugh, even as a stray tear rolls down your face.

"Love you," he whispers, kissing your cheek before backing away slightly.

"Love you, too," you answer with a sniffle.

He waits for you to open your eyes and smiles down at you as he adds, "By the way, even if I only turn 19 this time, if I'm legal, you had so better put out for me."

You give him a challenging smile and smack his shoulder playfully.

He chuckles as he takes a few steps backward, giving you a wink before turning away. He walks over to Sam, putting his hand on his younger - but currently older - brother's shoulder.

"This thing goes south and something happens to me, you take care of her, you hear me?" He says, keeping his voice low enough that you can't make out his words.

"That agreement's been in place since you two got together," Sam assures just as quietly with a warm smile. "But you're gonna be fine. You're way too stubborn not to get through this."

"You know it!" Dean says loudly as he claps his brother on the back. "Hey, Kev?"

Kevin looks over at him, pointing to himself in surprise, as if Dean could be referring to someone else.

"Thanks for the pictures. If this thing takes another few tries, you make sure you keep that camera handy, got it? I'm sure she can make some room in that frame."

"No problem," Kevin assures. "Now, go grow up already."

Dean chuckles and nods. "Cas?"

When he looks over at Castiel, you can tell by the shift of the angel's shoulders and tilt of his head that Dean's taking advantage of Cas' prayer-hotline.

I might not remember what links us together or what all we've been through, but I've seen enough to know we're family. If I don't come through on the other side of this, I need you to watch out for them. Keep'em safe for me?

While you can't hear what Dean says, you see Castiel bow his head in agreement and Dean smile appreciatively.

Dean takes his position, seated on the floor in front of the stone.

You watch Sam carefully draw symbols on the floor around them, listen to Castiel reciting the spell in... Proto-Aramaic, maybe?

You chew your nails to the quick when the stone starts to glow.

You don't realize how fervently you're praying for Dean to get through this safely until Castiel pauses in his recitation and glances over at you. He nods to you reassuringly before going on.

Dean has just turned to you and mouthed, 'It's okay,' when the stone lets loose a blast of blinding light.

-SPN-

"Christ... What the hell did I drink?" You hear Dean groan as you fight to clear your vision, and the gruffness of his voice is somewhat promising.

"Dean?" Sam calls, and you can tell by how disoriented he sounds that he can't see yet, either.

"Sammy?" Dean answers in confusion before whining, "D'you get the license plate off the truck that ran me over?"

"Not a truck, dude. A spell," Sam chuckles. "Hey, listen... This might sound crazy, but um... how old are you?"

There's a long pause.

"Aw, hell. I'm not gonna like this, am I?" Dean huffs bitterly.

"Probably not," Sam replies.

You hold your breath, waiting for a number.

"28," Dean sighs. "Why?"

You sag in disappointment. So much for a one-and-done fix.

"Weelllll..." Sam starts reluctantly.

Dean's gasp tells you the exact moment when he's able to see.

"Holy shit!" Dean laughs in astonishment. "What... Or who the hell did I feed to you, Gigantor?"

Your vision finally starts to clear and you watch Dean sit up and take in his surroundings. He's freaking gorgeous, you note with a mental whimper. Not quite your Dean yet, but holy hell... Age and additional years of training have granted the deadly sexy masculinity that he lacked just moments prior.

He frowns as he takes stock. "All right, so I've got a Sammy on steroids... The President of the high school debate team... An accountant in need of a shave... And a - well, hello, gorgeous," he greets with a grin when your eyes meet.

"Seriously?" Sam groans in disbelief. "You're not even on your feet yet this time."

"What? I'm just saying hi!" Dean insists in feigned innocence as Sam helps him up.

"I am an angel of The Lord," Castiel chimes in petulantly.

Dean frowns and turns toward him. "Say what now?"

"I am not an accountant," Cas declares, sticking out his chin. "I am an angel of The Lord."

"Of...course...you are, buddy," Dean says cautiously, as if talking to a crazy person, while plastering on a forced smile. "Sam?" He says without taking his eyes off of Castiel. "Make with the explanations, would you?"

"You touched that stone over there and it's got your age bouncing all over the place. You're supposed to be 34," Sam says in a rush, clearly tired of explaining this.

"Huh," Dean says, frowning thoughtfully. After a moment he adds with a shrug, "Okay. Well, that sucks. And...just for the record...halo-boy over here is...?"

"Really an angel," Sam assures.

Dean arches a brow and eyes Castiel appraisingly. "Wow... Great PR department upstairs. They really oversold you guys. He looks back to Sam, considering him for a moment before asking, "Sooo...my deal... I take it we, uh, pulled a rabbit outta our hat on that one?"

Sam's eyes widen and he looks to Castiel as he answers quickly, "Long story. Let's just leave it at that."

Dean frowns and eyes his brother suspiciously, but decides Sam must have a reason for not wanting to get into it.

"Fair enough," he relents.

"I'm seeing a pattern here," Kevin notes. "The older he gets, the more readily he accepts everything."

"The older he gets, the more weird shit he's seen," you offer. "This is just another day at the office."

Dean opens his mouth to agree with you, but stops abruptly. He tilts his head, his brows drawing together and eyes narrowing as he studies you curiously.

You freeze under the scrutiny of his gaze. It feels as if there's a flashing neon sign over your head that reads, 'YES. WE'RE SCREWING.'

You could explain it to him... Answer his questions... Try to resist his unavoidable attempts to get you into bed... Fall in love with him at a different stage in his life... But you feel exhausted at the prospect of starting this process all over again. You've been down this path before - except now you know that it's likely to be an emotional roller-coaster followed by him promptly forgetting you.

Hmm... Not if you can help it...

You avert your eyes and, as an afterthought, grab a rubber band off the table to pull up your hair. Maybe you can avoid having your heart twisted up with longing and love by this latest incarnation. It shouldn't be too long before your Dean is back...right? You just need to keep your mouth shut and your tresses (along with the rest of you) out of reach until then.

"We're not sure how long it'll be before you're at the right age," Sam informs Dean.

Not for the first time, you scowl and wonder whether Sam's still got a touch of that psychic mojo you've heard mentioned.

"Nothing I can do to hurry things along?" Dean asks.

"Nope," Sam replies.

"Sorta a waiting game now?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"All right. Guess that means I've got some time to kill. Where's my baby?" Dean asks expectantly.

Jarred from your thoughts, you look up in surprise at the familiar b-word. You simultaneously smirk and deflate when you realize that he's referring to the only other woman in his life.

"Your 'baby'?" Sam asks, frowning in feigned confusion. "What... you mean the Impala?" His eyes widen. "Oh. Wow. Long gone, dude. We scrapped that thing years ago."

A strangled sound escapes Dean's throat.

"Sorry, bro," Sam goes on, looking genuinely apologetic. "It got totaled on a hunt. Last I heard, they were gonna strip it for parts. What's left of it's in a junkyard in Tennessee."

Dean gasps. All the color drains from his face as he grips the table for support.

"You. Bite. Your. Tongue! I'd never allow it!" He grinds out.

Sam manages to maintain a straight, sympathetic face. The longer he keeps it up, the further Dean's bottom lip protrudes.

"Dude... Seriously?" Dean whimpers in desperation after a moment.

Unable to resist the power of that pouty bottom-lip, you sigh heavily, making your disapproval of the prank known.

Sam bursts into victorious laughter. "The look on your face, bro. Priceless!" He gloats.

"That's just cruel," you chide as he laughs at his brother's expense. Shaking your head, you turn your attention to Dean. "She's down in the garage, Dean, safe and sound," you assure.

"Oh, thank God," Dean sighs, clutching his chest in immense relief.

And now that you've stupidly drawn attention to yourself again, he gives you a sizzling hot smile.

"You mind leading the way there, beautiful?" He asks and bites his bottom lip as his eyes slide unhurriedly over your body.

You roll your eyes and wonder what your chances are against Dean at this age.

Sam gives you a pointed look, as if you need a tip-off that Dean's just trying to get you alone to hit on you.

Reluctantly, you slide off the table and onto your feet.

"This way," you sigh and trudge out of the room with Dean following along closely behind, undoubtedly making faces behind your back to Sam and miming how badly he wants to grab your ass.

You hear Sam give a disgusted growl and know that the gestures must have earned a bitch face.

Before you get a chance to leave the room, Kevin rushes up in front of both of you, armed with his camera phone.

"Say cheese!" He urges, and catches a picture of your incredulous look - along with the way Dean's eyes are currently locked on your ass.

-SPN-

You enter the garage and watch as Dean's eyes light up like a kid in a candy store. He drools over the other vehicles for a moment before focusing on the object of his undying affection.

"Baby! Oh, is it good to see you!" He croons as he makes his way over to her.

You laugh as he wraps his arms around the driver's side door and roof to give her a hug.

"I knew I'd never let you get scrapped," he reassures her.

"Well, I'll leave you two to get reacquainted. You can find your way back, right?" You call over your shoulder as you turn to leave.

"Whoa, there!" He calls as he races after you. "Where you off to in such a rush?"

You arch a brow as he catches your wrist, halting your escape attempt.

"Is there some reason I should be staying?"

"Yeah. I mean, we are alone," he points out with an ill-behaved little half-smile. "Don't you want to tell me now?"

"Tell you what?" You ask in feigned innocence.

"About whatever that is swirling in those pretty eyes every time you look at me," he says in a low voice and traces his fingertips down the side of your face.

"It's nothing," you insist unconvincingly.

"Nothing, huh?" He asks incredulously when you try to suppress a shiver in response to his touch. "Sure as hell don't look like 'nothing'."

"Just leave it, Dean," you sigh before cutting around him and walking away.

He stays rooted in place, staring up at the ceiling as you retreat behind him.

You're halfway to the door before he finally calls out purposefully, "Nothing Else Matters."

You nearly trip as you abruptly halt your exit.

After a few stunned seconds, you slowly turn back toward him.

"What?" You ask cautiously.

He throws a knowing smile over his shoulder.

"So, it does mean something..." he declares with a nod.

You hold your breath, trying to hide your astonishment as he turns to face you.

"Whenever I look at you, I hear 'Nothing Else Matters' playing in my head. But it ain't Metallica - it's some chick version. Something 'Naked'... Or 'Naked' something..." he mutters, snapping his fingers as if trying to will the thought to form in his mind.

"Bif Naked," you offer without hesitation and watch him with wide eyes.

"Right!" He says, pointing at you with a grin. "Bif Naked, Nothing Else Matters. So... Care to explain why you come with a soundtrack? One which, I might add, is cutting the balls off an awesome tune?"

You shake your head. "No idea," you whisper weakly.

"Aw, come on," he coaxes as he slowly closes the distance between you. "That's clearly bullshit. Why don't you want to tell me?" He asks, studying your eyes intensely.

You swallow hard and sag in defeat.

"Because you're just gonna forget me again," you mutter. "What's the point?"

"Aw, see, but that's just it, sugar..." He says softly as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. "I don't think I did. At least, not completely."

You frown at that and gaze up into his eyes, afraid to get your hopes up as he steps closer still.

"What do you mean? Do you have any memories past 28?" You ask hesitantly.

"No - and that's what makes it confusing. Last thing I remember, Sammy and I just had another run in with the Trickster and I was a few months away from punching my one-way ticket to Hell. I have no clue what happened after that. But... somehow? I know things about you that I can't explain.

"I can't tell you how we met...or anything else about us, really. Hell, to be honest, I don't even know your name," he admits as his eyes carefully take in every detail of your face. With a smirk, he reaches out and tugs on your ponytail. "But I know damned well that your hair is supposed to be down for me."

He smiles at the way your eyes widen in shock. He works the rubber band out of your hair as he continues.

"I know what you sound like when you whisper 'good night' and I know that you snore." He chuckles at the indignant look you give in response. "Don't worry. It's only loud enough for it to be adorable," he assures. "I know your nose crinkles when I make you laugh and that your sides are ticklish. I know how unbelievably sexy you are in white cotton bras and panties, and I know that your knees get weak when I kiss you like this..."

He leans in slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours and cradling your face in his hands. You whimper a little as your heart starts to race. He presses those full lips to yours softly at first, leaving you desperate for more. When you sigh and part your lips, he groans in approval and takes the invitation to deepen the kiss.

Just as he predicted, you lean against him for support as your knees turned to Jello.

It's almost perfect now. His hands are large and rough, his touches sure against your skin. His shoulders are wide and strong enough to carry the weight of the world. His chest is hard muscle beneath your roving hands, the increase in mass giving his presence a solidity it had recently sorely lacked. The haunted look in his gaze is still easily hidden at this age, he's not quite right yet, but with your eyes closed, you can pretend he's back to the man you love.

Besides, hey, he's remembering things about you. That excuses at least one sweaty romp, right?

Right?

After a long moment (yet entirely too soon), he pulls away slowly. His eyes are still closed when you gaze up at him. He's swaying slightly, looking positively intoxicated by your kiss.

"Dean? You with me, babe?" You ask softly while stroking the back of his neck.

Without opening his eyes, he leans into your touch and whispers your name reverently in reply.

Your heart swells at the sound.

"You remembered," you say in amazement.

All right - him remembering your name after one kiss has to be worth a week of guilt-free nookie. It just has to be.

You watch in wonder as his heavy lids slide open to reveal adoration in his stormy green eyes.

"I remember more..." He breathes, and you realize this latest spell is working erratically - restoring his memories in random order and faster than his age. Thank God for HUGE favors. He's recalling your time together before the memories of Hell can resurface and potentially debilitate him.

"Tell me what you remember," you whisper back.

He lifts you up in response, guiding you to wrap your legs around his hips. He smiles, sharing his memories between searing kisses.

"You and me... Sunset after a hunt... Parked on a cliff looking out at the ocean... That girly-ass song playing 'cause I caved and let you pick the music..."

You laugh against his lips and drape your arms around his shoulders. "Oh, as I recall, I more than made it up to you."

He grins and nods. "Damned straight, you did. Probably why I can't get it outta my head. I think the rest went something like this..." He says, walking toward the Impala with the clear intent of sitting you on the hood.

You immediately struggle to get down.

"Wait! Wait!" You squeak as you wriggle out of his grasp.

"What? Why? Shit, I'm sorry. I mean, I thought...you know...that we..." he tries, his features twisted in a mixture of confusion and remorse as he worries that he's misread the situation somehow.

"Huh?" You ask, just as confused. "Oh! No," you laugh when you catch on. "You thought right. We did. We do. We ARE. But..."

His mouth drops open and eyebrow arches skyward as you unzip your jeans and slide them slowly down your hips.

"There are these metal buttons on my back pockets," you explain. "They'll scratch the paint."

"Holy. Shit." He breathes in awe, watching the denim drag down your legs until you're free of the material. "That is the sexiest thing a woman has ever said to me."

You laugh as he eagerly pulls your body flush with his, loving the pure sex in his gaze as he slides your shirt up and off. He doesn't wait for you to pull off his t-shirts. He's in too much of a hurry for skin on skin and you have to agree with him there.

When you're finally pressed against his bare chest and stomach, with his bare arms wrapped around you, with only your bra separating the two of you, you can't help but grin.

"Now, where were we?" You ask.

"I think we were right about...here," he says as he lifts you up and sets you on the hood of the Impala.

"And that means you should be right here," you remind, pulling him closer until his hips are settled between your thighs.

"Damn, baby," he purrs in his roughest, sexiest tone, biting his bottom lip and tracing his fingertips down your throat. "Want you so bad...feel like I ain't had it in forever. Got me horny as a damned teenager for you."

You laugh low at that, nipping his jaw and running your hand over the front of his jeans before whispering in his ear, "Hmm...and just as hard for me as you were at 17, too."

Dean busts out laughing. "Wait, you mean you let me have this fine ass when I was only 17? Corrupting the morals of a minor, huh?" He bites his bottom lip while shaking his head and fighting a smile. "Why you dirty, kinky, cradle-robbing, little..."

"I didn't let you have anything," you cut in with a smirk. "Didn't stop you from trying to change my mind, though."

Thoroughly amused, he licks his lips and unhooks your bra. "Ah, I wouldn't have known what to do with you at that age, any way."

"You were convinced otherwise, I assure you."

"Oh, I just bet I was," he chuckles and slides the straps of your bra down your arms. His lips pucker and he lets out a low "ooh" of approval as your breasts are revealed to him.

"And how about now? You know what to do with me at this age?" You taunt breathily.

Dean groans and presses his body flush with yours. "Baby, I am very much looking forward to answering that question."

He crushes his mouth against yours, kissing you more roughly than he ever has before. It's all teeth and tongue and desperation and urgency. You moan in surprise as you eagerly match his frenzied desire. His hands seem to be everywhere at once, gripping your shoulders and pinching your nipples and kneading your breasts. You hang on for the ride, running your hands greedily over his warm, hard body.

He pulls away enough to stare down into your eyes intensely. Never breaking eye contact, and with deliberate movements, he reaches down and tears your panties apart, one side at a time, before tugging them off between your legs. Something about the controlled strength of the action - the way the muscles of his chest and arms tense and jerk - paired with the sound of shredding material drives you crazy.

"Jesus Christ," you groan through clenched teeth in response.

Dean chuckles triumphantly before reclaiming your lips with his own. You put an end to that chuckling with one hand, sliding it down his bottom abs and into his jeans, getting a firm grip on his cock and giving him a long stroke.

"Ungh... baby," he moans and leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours as his eyes roll closed.

You watch the way his features twist in pleasure as you move your hand up and down his length, the way his breath hitches and he hisses when you quicken the pace.

With considerable effort, he manages to get his brain to function again. He snatches your wrist, giving you a playfully disapproving scowl as he extracts your hand from his pants.

You give him your most innocent smile and watch him bring your fingers to his lips and nip them.

"You keep that up, you're gonna put a stop to things before the real fun's even started," he warns.

You reach down and unbuckle his belt, leaning forward and kissing your way along his jaw to his ear.

"Then let's get to the real fun already, shall we?" You whisper and savor the hiss he gives when you suck on his earlobe.

You make short work of the button and zipper on his jeans. You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, start to slide them down over the curve of his fantastic ass, but he shakes his hips and legs impatiently, causing the material to quickly slide to the floor. You laugh as he kicks aside the heap of boxers and denim, but he swallows that laughter with a heated kiss.

"You ready for me, baby?" He growls against your mouth before letting his fingers slip between your thighs. You moan and let your head fall back as he strokes you. "Ooh, yeah, you're soaked for me. You missed me baby?"

"God, yes," you answer emphatically.

"You want me inside you?""

"Just as much as you want to be inside of me," you counter with a sly smile.

"Don't you know it," he answers with a smirk.

He reaches down between the two of you and lets just the tip of his cock slide inside. You moan and wriggle, trying to hurry him along. He waits though, until he's got his hands on your ass, each hand gripping a cheek.

You call out his name when, in one motion, he thrusts forward and pulls your body hard against him.

Both of you pause with eyes closed to take in the sensation. He nuzzles his face against yours, kissing your cheek and brow.

"Know what this feels like for me, baby?" He purrs in your ear.

You let out a 'hmm?' in reply.

"Feels like coming home."

"Mmm...welcome home," you sigh contentedly.

You can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses you, but it is quickly forgotten when he starts to move. Again, it's rougher than usual - fast and almost violent in its desperation. His fingertips sink into your skin, gripping hard enough to leave bruises. He gets a handful of your hair and pulls back on it hard enough to wrench your neck.

He nips at your throat and groans loudly in approval when you follow his lead and bite his shoulder back just as hard. His skin is instantly covered in goosebumps in response, his nipples hardening in overwhelming arousal.

In the back of your mind, you vaguely wonder about this glaring difference in his preferences. Sure, he's liked it hard and fast, but never to this level. He's always shied away from pushing things this far before. It occurs to you that the only difference between the man currently between your thighs and the man you're used to is a 40 year stint in Hell. The things he'd done and endured there had apparently curbed his appetite for pleasure mixed with pain.

You wonder if it's because he's usually afraid of hurting you... If he really wants it this way, but holds back. Hmm... You'll have to test that theory when he's back to normal.

You shove the thoughts aside and focus on the here and now. Because, here and now, the act of raking your nails down his thickly-muscled back is enough to draw a sound from Dean that you've never heard before - a long, keening cry that echoes off the walls of the garage and makes your knees quake.

"You like that, baby?" You breathe in his ear with a throaty laugh before dipping your tongue inside, tracing the curves of cartilage.

He whimpers and presses closer to your mouth, urging you on.

That answers your question.

His movements become steadily more erratic as you launch a full assault with nails and teeth. You lean down and capture his nipple with your mouth, sucking and nipping until he's thrusting frantically and screaming your name.

He's close. But, aside from your name, he's too far gone to even speak. This is definitely new.

You take up his normal dialogue, intrigued by the role reversal, "That's it baby. You gonna come for me? Come on, you can let it go. Feel so damned hot inside me. So thick and hard. Damn, baby. You're gonna get me off so good. Harder, Dean. Faster. That's right. Come for me."

He follows your urging, slamming into you hard enough to seriously test the Impala's shocks.

With one final shout, he slips over the edge. His sweat-slick body trembles and stiffens, he presses his mouth to your temple and gasps in ecstasy.

You moan and grind down against him, chasing your own release. It doesn't take long - the feeling of him coming always drives you wild. He crushes his mouth to yours as you finish, swallowing your cries and moaning in appreciation of them.

And before either of you has even finished trembling or groaning, it happens.

White light erupts from him, leaving you thankful that your eyes had already been closed.

You feel the change in him instantly. He's even more solid, his body somehow more steady than it had been just seconds ago.

He breaks your kiss and you blink rapidly, desperate to clear the lingering white-spots from your vision.

"Baby?" He asks in uncertainty.

"It's me, Dean," you answer with a smile of relief. Even if you can't see him clearly yet, his voice is just right. Gravelly and weary.

He's back.

"What the hell just happened?" He asks, still sounding disoriented. "I mean...I can guess at least part of it..." He jokes as he reaches down and squeezes your bare ass.

You smile up at him as you can finally focus on his wonderfully familiar features.

"I'll tell you in a minute. Right now? Shut the hell up and kiss me," you order.

Dean arches a brow and smirks. "Yes, ma'am," he chuckles.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, kissing him eagerly, even as joyful laughter bubbles from your lips.

You're not paying attention to time, but it's probably less than two minutes later when you hear it. The door to the garage bursts open. Two sets of boots head toward you in a rush.

One set of boots abruptly halts their approach, squeaking on the tile floor.

"UGH! Damn it, Dean!" Sam cries in disgust, his voice muffled as he undoubtedly covers his face.

Dean grudgingly takes his lips from yours and looks over his shoulder at his brother.

"Sammy," he greets with a smug smile. "What'd I do?" He asks innocently, effortlessly using his entirely-nude body to block yours from view.

"It's more like what you're still doing. Would you mind putting some clothes on?" Sam asks in exasperation.

"Why yes, as a matter of fact, I would mind," Dean answers dryly.

"How'd you even have time to get naked, any way? Let alone be doing...that already?! You just changed back like three of minutes ago!" Sam gripes while making his way over to the tangle of Dean's jeans and boxers.

"Changed...back?" Dean repeats curiously, turning his attention back to you. He ignores the heap of clothing Sam tosses onto the floor at his feet.

"You were affected by a powerful relic. It has altered your age numerous times in the past week," Castiel chimes in.

"Oh, really?" Dean says, giving you a suspicious smirk. "And exactly how old was I a few minutes ago?"

You smile up at him sheepishly.

"28," Sam answers before he catches on. You can hear the amusement in his voice a beat later when he adds, "And apparently very persuasive."

"Clearly," he agrees, shifting his hips to remind you precisely how caught-in-the-act you are.

You shrug innocently. "You remembered my name. And 'Nothing Else Matters'."

Dean chuckles and nods. "So this was - what? A celebratory reenactment?" His eye wander to your lips. The corner of his mouth curving upwards in mischievous half-smile as he adds roughly, "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"Ooookay. On that note, we'll be leaving," Sam announces. "Glad you're back to normal, Dean. Come on, Cas," he urges, catching the angel by the elbow and dragging him towards the door.

You and Dean laugh as they go. The door is barely closed behind them before Dean's urging you to lay back on the hood...

The end. :) Soooo what d'you think? Should I write more for Supernatural? Sorry for the delay in wrapping this one up. Real life doesn't agree with me that I should be allowed to spend all my time writing fan-fiction (damn it!)