Written by: gooberlanes13

Edited by: KariGorsuch

"Yeah, I don't know what happened, but I'm driving." I smirked, tightening my grip on the steering wheel as I patted the passenger seat beside me.

Bri hesitated, stiff and uncertain, before letting out a quiet groan and sliding into the seat. She shifted slightly, adjusting herself as her eyes lingered on the house, her expression unreadable.

"...Whenever you're ready."

I fired up the Mustang, the engine rumbling to life as the F-350 backed out of the way. With the Impala close behind, I led us out of the driveway and onto the open road.

Bri sat motionless beside me, her head pressed against the window, eyes distant—firm but fractured. The car was quiet, apart from the steady purr of the engine and the hum of the tires against the pavement. As we crossed out of Jackson County and onto the freeway, I caught the faint sound of her sniffles.

Over time, her movements slowed, her breathing evened out, and little by little, the tension in her body eased. She drifted off, lost to exhaustion.

Glancing at the Impala's headlights in the rearview mirror, I shifted gears, letting the road carry us further away from the little farm house.

After a couple of hours on the road, I pulled into a gas station, the Impala rolling up beside us. Shifting the Mustang into neutral, I let the engine cut out.

I stole a glance at Bri—still asleep, her breathing steady but her face drawn even in rest. Quietly, I slipped out of the driver's seat, set the gas pump in place, and made my way over to where Sam and Dean were waiting by the Impala.

"She needs a drink," I muttered, rubbing a hand over my face.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well, join the club."

Sam ignored him, his focus locked on Bri. "How is she?" His voice was low, careful.

The three of us instinctively glanced toward the Mustang's passenger window, watching her sleep.

"She's not okay," I admitted, shoving my hands into my pockets. "She hasn't said a damn thing since we left. And she was out cold the second we crossed the state line."

Dean let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "That bad, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah. That bad."

Dean scoffed, earning sharp looks from both Sam and me. He huffed but didn't argue, instead shifting the gas pump into the Impala. Catching our stares, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"You said she needs a drink," he said, nodding toward me. "There's a bar over there..." He jerked his thumb past the Mustang, and I followed his gaze to a small, dimly lit bar tucked into the corner of the parking lot. "Might not be the worst idea. We could all use something."

His eyes met mine, lingering just a second too long. Heat crept up my neck, but I shook it off with a small nod.

"I'll see what she wants to do."

With that, I turned away, stepping over the curb just as the gas pump clicked loudly. Inside the Mustang, Bri jolted awake, her head snapping up in alarm. I knocked lightly on the window, waiting as she blinked away the fog of sleep before reluctantly rolling it down.

"How you feeling, sunshine?" I asked, keeping my voice light.

I smirked at Bri's half-asleep state before pulling the gas pump out of the tank and placing it back on the receiver.

"Shitty," she grumbled, letting her head rest lazily against the weather stripping of the window. Her tired eyes met mine as I lingered between her window and the pump. "What...?"

"There's a bar over there," I said, nodding across the parking lot. I watched as her gaze followed my gesture, hesitation flickering across her face. "I know it's not ideal, but you could probably use a drink. We don't have to go crazy," I added with a smirk, catching the way her brows twitched. "Just one drink, then we'll find a hotel in town and hit the road tomorrow—"

"Sounds perfect," Dean cut in, stepping over the curb.

Bri snapped a glare at him, her exhaustion doing nothing to dull the sharpness in her eyes.

"Listen," Dean continued, unfazed, "at the very least... just come sit with us."

I glanced between the two of them, biting my lower lip in anticipation.

"Sam's in," I murmured, nudging her shoulder.

She groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes before muttering something under her breath.

"I'll take that as a yes," I smirked.

Dean and I pulled both cars from the gas station pumps to the bar parking lot, and after more tugging than expected, I finally got Bri inside. We slid into a booth tucked away in the far corner.

Across from me, Bri exhaled sharply, eyes locked onto mine with a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

"Why?" she asked flatly, her voice low and edged with irritation.

"You need something, and hours of driving—or sleeping—" I paused, catching her eyes for a brief moment, "—will just give you more time to stew."

Bri held my gaze for a second longer before sighing, silently accepting the terms I laid out.

Sam slid a glass of water in front of her as he took the seat beside her, while Dean plopped a beer down in front of me before settling in across from her.

"She can't drink that," Bri pointed out, eyeing the beer with a skeptical look.

Dean just shrugged. "Doesn't mean she can't hold onto it for appearances."

I smirked, adjusting the bandages around my throat before realizing my voice felt stronger than before. Without much thought, I started tugging them off. "That's better."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, yeah, great. But are you at least gonna sip that, or should I just drink for two?" He barely clinked his glass against mine before downing half of it. "If not, I guess I'll have to make up for your lack of bad decisions tonight. But hey, at least one of us will remember how charming I am."

I chuckled as he knocked back the rest and casually slid my beer in front of himself with a satisfied exhale. "Good call, Eve," he muttered with a smirk.

I shot him a small smile but kept my focus on Bri, watching her carefully.

"See? I know you better than you think." I shot back, keeping my focus on Bri instead of acknowledging Dean.

"Bri..." I pushed gently, leaning onto the table.

Her eyes met mine reluctantly, and the weight of her pain hit me instantly—loss, rejection. A whisper crawled through my mind like an echo of something unspoken: I'm not welcome here.

I shifted slightly, frowning as I studied my best friend.

"...What happened?" I asked, voice softer now, pressing my elbows onto the polished wood. Dean and I exchanged a glance as the tension between Bri and Sam became more obvious.

"You don't have to talk about it," I added quickly, raising my hands in mock surrender. "But I can't help if you don't tell me."

Bri let out a sharp sigh, her glare fixed on the untouched glass of water in front of her. Her fingers curled slightly against the table as if trying to ground herself. Then, without a word, she flicked her gaze up to Sam.

He cleared his throat, and instantly, both Dean and I zeroed in on him.

Before I could react, a sudden warmth pressed against my left thigh, making my breath hitch slightly. I turned just enough to catch Dean's smug smirk as his grip tightened. My eyes narrowed, but I let out a slow breath and shifted my attention back to Sam.

"What happened?" I repeated, ignoring Dean's antics.

Sam exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening for a second before he finally spoke. "Long story short," he muttered, casting a quick glance at Bri, who hadn't blinked once. "They wanted her to marry someone. She said no—so they kicked her out."

"That's pretty forward," Bri smirked, shooting Sam a half-hearted glare.

"Wait," I cut in, drawing everyone's attention. "They did this in front of you?" I nodded toward Sam, who just gave a small shrug before downing the rest of his beer.

"Jesus, it's not water," Bri muttered, glaring between the brothers.

I rolled my eyes at Dean's exaggeratedly wounded expression before leaning in closer to Bri across the table.

"All this today?" I asked.

She hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod.

I clenched my jaw. "Are you fucking kidding me—?"

"Hey," Sam interrupted, holding up a hand. "Bri took care of it."

Dean scoffed. "And you didn't say anything?" His voice edged toward something more aggressive, and before he could push further, my hand shot under the table, gripping his knee in silent warning.

Dean shifted slightly, his lips pressing together as his eyes flicked to mine. Across the table, both Sam and Bri exchanged quick, knowing glances.

Dean cleared his throat. "I mean... uh, good for you, Bri."

"Well, if we could..." Sam started, pulling everyone's attention back to him, "That's one thing taken care of... and we can talk about it when you're ready." His smile softened as he glanced at Bri. She met his gaze with a quiet vulnerability that made her eyes shine. "But, has anyone figured out this whole time travel thing to get the ashes?"

Dean smirked, leaning back in his chair like he was deep in thought. "Uh, I'm sorry, Sammy, we've been busy fighting parents and vamps for the last four days. Where exactly have you been?"

I couldn't help it— I snorted at Sam's annoyed smirk, and Bri looked between the two of us, her amusement evident.

"We'll figure it out when we get back to Bobby's," I added, trying to steer the conversation. "For now, let's just enjoy our drinks and get some real rest."

Bri's eyes shifted, her voice lifting with an unexpected playfulness. "Speaking of rest..." She paused, her gaze flicking between me and Dean. "You know, for two people who aren't together, you two looked really comfortable earlier."

I froze, caught off guard. Bri watched as a blush crept up my neck and spread across my cheeks, her expression filled with mischief.

The moment was so unexpected and strange, I couldn't help but lower my gaze to my lap. Dean's hand was still resting there, warm and comforting. I felt a small squeeze, and when I glanced up at him, my eyes widened at the subtle shake of his head. He was trying to play this cool, even as everything between us seemed to shift.

"Hey," Dean barked, breaking the silence as he yanked my hand from my lap and placed our fingers, intertwined, on the table for everyone to see. My face flamed as my gaze snapped to Bri's, and I could feel the blush creep up my neck.

"I bet we could get a Demon to take us back in time..." Dean continued, his tone casual, as if this whole hand-holding thing was just part of the conversation.

Sam's eyes flickered between me and Dean's unphased expression, his brows furrowing as he glanced at our joined hands. Bri watched closely, her gaze flicking between my face and the subtle intimacy between us. I couldn't tell if I was more surprised by the sudden display or by how easy it felt.

"Maybe." Sam huffed, still glancing between us, clearly trying to process what just happened.

About twenty minutes later, we managed to get rooms at a hotel just down the road. I slid the key into the sensor and opened the door, letting Bri go in first. But as I started to step in behind her, I was stopped short by Dean's hand, still firmly around mine.

With a subtle nod, he indicated for me to stay outside. I glanced over my shoulder at him before pulling the door shut behind me.

"Yeah?" I asked, crossing my arms, the cool breeze from the hallway swirling around us.

Dean cleared his throat, his jacket shifting as he adjusted it awkwardly. Sam grinned between us before disappearing into their room. "Um... how are you feeling?" he asked, gesturing to his throat before sliding his hands back into his pockets.

"Concerned, are we?" I teased, giving him a sly smile.

"Well," Dean scoffed, kicking an imaginary rock and lowering his gaze, "I thought we were going to lose you there."

"It'll take more than my throat almost being ripped out to get rid of me." I narrowed my eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Were you worried, or something?" I tilted my head, playfully.

"Yes." He huffed, avoiding eye contact. "You scared the hell out of me, Eve—"

"-again." I cut him off, watching as he started pacing in the tiny space in front of our rooms. "Seems I do that, whether I'm playing this game with you or not."

Dean's jaw tightened as his eyes met mine, and the atmosphere between us shifted, the air thick with something unspoken. Silence swallowed us both, and I finally exhaled, breaking the tension as I looked away.

"Well, Bri needs me." I gestured toward the door, trying to move past the moment, only for my shoulders to be tugged back. Dean's hands gripped me gently, and I turned to face him as he pushed me lightly against the wall. Then, without warning, his lips were on mine.

There was no hesitation on my part; I kissed him back, my heart racing, fluttering in my chest. The surge of electricity that ran through me was overwhelming, and for a moment, nothing else existed but him. His hands found their way to my waist as he deepened the kiss. When he finally pulled away, our foreheads rested against each other, both of us panting for breath.

"Well," I said, licking my lips to try and steady my breath, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth, "you have... interesting timing, Winchester." I looked up into his eyes, catching the spark there, and felt my breath hitch again.

"I meant what I said, Eve..." His voice softened, almost a whisper as his hands gently held my waist. "...You pulled through, and now I owe you a conversation and effort."

I pressed my lips together, holding his gaze. It wasn't just the kiss that had my heart racing—it was the quiet intensity in his eyes, the sincerity behind his words.

"I want to believe you, Dean," I blurted before I could stop myself. "You have to understand my hesitation—"

"I do," he interrupted, his voice firm as he cupped my cheek. "I also know that it took you almost dying on me—not once, but twice—for me to understand..."

My eyes stayed locked on his, waiting for the rest of the sentence, but the silence stretched on between us. When it became too heavy to bear, I lowered my gaze, fighting the sting of emotion creeping up. More beats of silence passed before Dean spoke again.

"...for me to understand that you scare the hell out of me. But..." He sighed, his hand tightening slightly around my waist. "...I can't lose you."

His words hit harder than I expected, and I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, but I fought to keep it at bay. The weight of his confession settled in my chest, too heavy to ignore, but impossible to brush off. He slid his hand from my cheek to my chin, lifting my face until his lips were on mine again.

"We'll talk more at Bobby's?" he whispered, the unfinished kiss leaving a quiet, intense weight between us. His body heat pressed against mine, and his breath was hot on my skin. I could feel the hunger in the air, in the way my body responded to him, but I held it back. His eyes locked with mine again, and I fought the urge to close the space.

"It's a date," I teased, winking as his lips curled into a small smirk. I pushed myself off the wall, my chest brushing against his button-down as I stepped toward the hotel room for the night, the unspoken promise hanging between us.

The next morning, Bri was woken by a gentle knock on the door. Before she could react, I was already there, pulling it open a little, revealing Dean and Sam, still sleepy-eyed.

"We need to talk," Dean said, his eyes locking with mine in a way that sent a wave of warmth through me. I stepped aside, allowing the brothers to enter. Sam made his way straight to the bed, where Bri, still rubbing her eyes, was sitting up.

Sam sat down beside her, gently letting her rest her head in his lap as Dean dropped into a chair next to the small side table. I closed the door behind them, leaned against the wall with my arms crossed, and shot a glance between the two.

"What's up?" I asked, trying to break the ice.

Sam raised an eyebrow, his voice full of concern. "Did you not sleep?"

I nodded toward the pile of folded PJs on the TV stand. "I don't sleep much anymore," I said, smiling down at Bri, who looked peaceful for the moment. "What did you guys need to talk about?" I pushed off the wall, crossing the room to drop into the chair across from Dean.

Dean and Sam exchanged a brief, nervous look. They both shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Dean cleared his throat, looking at me with a seriousness that wasn't usually there.

Sam caved first. "We don't think you two should keep hunting."

Bri bolted upright so fast it was like someone had flipped a switch. My shoulders tensed, my fingers instinctively pressing into my temples.

"Not this again..." I muttered, exhaling sharply as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Bri twisted toward Sam, eyes burning. "Seriously? After everything? I just fought with my parents—I lost my family over this—" Her voice rose as she scrambled out of bed, turning her glare on both Winchesters. "And now you decide to weigh in? You couldn't have said something before? Had to wait until I had nothing left?!"

Dean held up his hands, palms out, glancing between her and me. "Look, that's kinda what got us talking last night..." he started, voice careful, like he was stepping over glass. Then his eyes flickered toward me, waiting, like he expected me to jump in.

But I didn't. Not yet.

I was listening. Thinking.

Letting Bri go first.

Sam sighed and held up a hand, silently telling Dean to back off. Then he stood, stepping toward Bri, his eyes soft but his jaw tight.

"We didn't mean for the timing to be this bad, Bri," he said, voice low but firm. "We just—last night, we got to talking. And if we're being honest, if you two weren't with us... none of this would've happened." He hesitated before adding, "Including Eve's run-in with the cult."

"No." My voice cut through the room, sharp and unwavering.

Everyone turned to look at me, but I ignored them. My eyes locked onto Sam's. "You make your case to Bri without me, please."

I could feel Dean's stare burning into the side of my face, but I didn't acknowledge it. My focus was on Bri—on the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands curled into fists.

Sam's jaw tightened at my request, but before he could argue, Bri started pacing.

"If you didn't mean for the timing to be so bad, then why the hell are you bringing it up now?" Her voice shook with frustration.

"Because before anyone else gets hurt—"

"Well, you're hurting me!"

Bri's voice ricocheted off the walls, ringing through the cramped space.

Sam froze, stunned.

"Eve."

Dean's voice cut through the tension, pulling my attention away from the argument. My brows lifted as he jerked his head toward the door.

"We can talk in our room. Let them—"

"—Right." I gave Bri's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping out, pulling the door shut behind us.

The moment we walked into their room, the scent hit me—stale beer and sweat. I gagged, wrinkling my nose. "God. Men."

Dean barely glanced over his shoulder as he moved toward the mini coffee maker. He hesitated, then placed the empty pot back on the burner.

"...Yeah," he muttered. "Forgot about that."

I let out a dry chuckle and dropped into the chair by the side table, crossing my arms as I studied him.

Dean sat down across from me, elbows resting on his knees. His gaze locked onto mine, serious, steady.

"Sam's right. We didn't mean for it to be bad timing—"

I lifted a hand, cutting him off. "It's bad timing, Dean, because we're in this. We're invested." I gestured vaguely between myself and the wall separating us from Bri and Sam. "Bri gave up her family to stick with Sam—with us. And I—"

"I know what you've done." His voice dipped, rough with something unreadable. He dropped his gaze for a beat, almost guilty. "You've given up too much too, Eve."

I exhaled sharply, pushing to my feet. His eyes tracked every movement.

"I gave up some shit, Dean." My voice was sharp, firm. "If we—"

"We?" He scoffed, standing now too, facing me with that unshakable confidence. His stance was stiff, but his smirk was lethal, that familiar glint in his eyes making my stomach twist.

"What about you, Eve?"

"What about me?" I shot back, crossing my arms.

Dean exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I get that you and Bri have this sisterly bond or whatever—"

"Whatever?" I echoed, glaring, but he ignored me.

"-–But what do you—" He gestured at me, his movements sharper now, his head lowering slightly as his voice dropped into something rougher. "You, Eve—what do you want?"

The words hit harder than I expected.

"You!" The confession ripped out of me before I could stop it, my throat going raw from the force of it. My breath hitched as I swallowed down the lump rising in my chest. "If I walk away from this life, Dean..." My voice softened as I stepped toward him, careful, slow, like approaching something fragile. "...I walk away from you."

Dean's jaw clenched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. His eyes locked onto mine, flickering down to my lips and back.

I pressed my hand against his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, the steady rise and fall of his breath.

"After everything we've been through in the last month," I murmured, letting my eyes drop to the buttons of his flannel, focusing there instead of the storm brewing in his gaze. "The back and forth, the highs, the lows, the sacrifices..." My fingers brushed absently over the fabric as I trailed off.

His breathing grew heavier, that tension—the heat—simmering between us again. That heat that was only ours.

"...I wouldn't take any of it back. It led me to you." My voice barely made it past my lips as my palm flattened over his heart.

The war inside me kept raging, but the one truth I couldn't deny—the one thing that kept cutting through all the chaos—was this:

I wanted him.

Dean's expression hardened, but only slightly, his eyes locking onto mine with a quiet intensity.

"It's a good thing you're hot." Dean scoffed, shaking his head as he took my hand off his chest, threading his fingers through mine. "Because this is stupid."

A small smile pulled at my lips, warmth flickering through me as he leaned in, pressing a firm, lingering kiss against my forehead.