Written by: gooberlanes13

Edited by: KariGorsuch

I blinked back the burning exhaustion as we made our way down the stairs and stepped into the office. I let go of his hand as he dropped onto the cot, while I sank onto the couch.

"You okay?" he asked, pulling down the cot and adjusting it for the night.

I nodded silently, earning a glance from him.

He didn't push, and I let out a slow breath.

"Is Bri gonna be alright?" His voice was softer now as he turned to face me.

"She will be." I sniffled, tilting my head as he mirrored the movement. "Now that Sam's around, she'll be even better."

Dean nodded, then crossed the room, stopping right in front of me before stretching out a hand.

I hesitated before taking it, letting him pull me toward the cot.

"Ladies first..." he gestured, but before I could move forward, he stopped me short, his gaze flickering down. "...You're gonna sleep in your jeans?"

I glanced down at my outfit with a playful smirk, then shrugged. Without a word, I pulled off my black shirt, revealing my hot pink lacy tank top, then stepped out of my leggings to reveal a pair of black female boxers before crawling under the blanket.

I adjusted myself, but I caught the way his eyes lingered—first on the blanket, then a little too hard as if trying to see through it. His smirk twitched at the corner of his lips before his gaze flicked back up to meet mine.

"Well, damn." He muttered, clearly not expecting that. His eyes hovered on my tank top for a second too long before he scoffed, shaking his head like he was trying to snap himself out of it.

I tilted my head at him, biting back a grin.

"Uh-huh," I teased, propping myself up on one elbow. "You just gonna stand there, Winchester?"

Dean blinked, his smirk widening as he let out a short chuckle.

"Yeah," he admitted with a laugh, scratching the back of his head. "Just—uh—processing."

"Don't tell me you've never had a sleepover before," I teased, shifting to pull my knees up to my chest. "Or at least one with permission." I winked.

Dean chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair.

"Didn't take you for the shy type, Dean..." I smirked, rolling my eyes as I reached up and pulled my hair free from its ponytail.

That seemed to snap him out of it because, in the next breath, he yanked off his flannel, tossing it onto the nearest chair, then pulled his Henley over his head in one swift motion.

"Oh, sweetheart." His voice dropped just enough to send a shiver down my spine. "You know I'm not."

He slid onto the cot beside me, adjusting under the blanket before draping an arm around my waist. His fingers brushed lightly over my hip, teasing, before he exhaled a quiet chuckle into my hair.

"Hot pink, huh?"

I smirked. "What, not your color?"

He hummed, his lips barely ghosting against my shoulder. "I dunno... kinda starting to like it."

I chuckled softly, pressing closer to him, letting his warmth seep into me, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me.

"You know," I mused, staring up at the ceiling. "We've done this so many times, but never on purpose..."

"...Define on purpose?" Dean murmured, his breath warm against my ear, making my skin heat.

"Cripple Creek was an unconscious mutual thing—"

"—I woke up in the middle of the night, everyone was asleep, and you were sitting up next to me like some kind of damn watchtower..." I interjected, propping myself up on my elbow to meet his gaze. "And that was a rough night."

Dean's expression shifted, the teasing edge fading into something softer.

"I know." His voice was low, laced with something unspoken as his fingertips traced lazy patterns against my arm. "Florida was—"

"A sleepy decision." I interjected again, earning a tight jaw from him. "It was. We were exhausted from driving all night, and I was still recovering." I pointed at my throat, watching as he nodded softly.

"Good points." He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows to meet my gaze. "Although, I feel like we would've had our first real sleepover," he teased, "back in Casper, if I hadn't..."

We both lowered our gazes in sync, the memory settling between us like an unspoken weight. A knowing silence stretched before I shifted closer, taking his chin between my fingers.

"Mistakes were made." I said simply, searching those gorgeous green eyes. "You're not perfect, Dean—but you're the closest thing I've come across."

His lips parted like he wanted to argue. "Even after—"

"Yes." I smirked.

"But you don't even know what I was going to—"

"I don't care." I cut him off, my grip on his chin tightening slightly. "I just care about you—and where we are now." My voice softened as I tugged gently, guiding his lips to mine.

Dean groaned into the kiss, and when I teasingly nibbled on his bottom lip, he let out a deeper sound, breaking the kiss with a rough exhale.

"Keep it up, sweetheart." His voice was husky, his hands now cupping my face.

"Keep what up?" I played dumb, smirking as I gently pushed him flat onto the cot, then curled up against his chest like nothing had happened. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Tease." Dean muttered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before we both drifted off.

The next morning, I gently shook Dean awake, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He blinked groggily up at me, eyes dropping to my next-day clothes before flicking back up with a slow smirk.

"What?" I tilted my head as he sat up, taking the coffee from my hand. "Disappointed?"

Dean huffed, taking a sip. "One day," he muttered, "I'd like to wake up to you in what you actually wore to bed last night."

"We'll see." I winked, turning away. At the halfway point between the office and the kitchen, I glanced back—just in time to catch Dean's eyes glued to my ass.

"I saw that."

"Meant you to." He shot back, taking a slow sip of his coffee, smirking over the rim of the cup.

The air in the office was thick with tension—the kind that settles in your bones and refuses to shake loose. Dean, Sam, and Bobby had been here before, gathered around the desk, battle plans sketched out on worn-out maps and beer-stained notebooks. But this time, they had two rookies in the mix. And somehow, the stakes felt even higher.

Dean stood on one side of the desk, arms crossed, jaw tight, his eyes flickering over the mess of papers in front of him.

Bobby tapped his fingers against the edge of the desk, the rhythm uneven, his expression set in stone, ready to crack at any moment.

Sam leaned against the opposite side, his fingers threaded together, brows furrowed in thought.

Bri stood beside him, arms crossed, her eyes locked onto the map of Cold Oak, South Dakota. I watched as she started chewing on her cheek, deep in thought.

I stood with my back against the far wall, just behind Dean, arms wrapped around myself, trying to ignore the gnawing ache in my gut.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until Sam finally broke it.

"We need a solid plan," he said, his voice firm. "Not just some half-assed charge-in-and-hope-for-the-best routine." His eyes burned into Dean, who scoffed.

"Well, there goes my idea." Dean smirked, rubbing a hand over his face. I caught the flicker of amusement in his expression, and despite everything, I couldn't help the small grin that tugged at my lips.

"Look," Dean continued, his voice harder now, "we don't have time to sit around with our thumbs up our asses—she's getting stronger every second we waste."

"No one's doing that," Bobby cut in, planting his hands on the desk and shoving himself to his feet. "But if we don't do this right, we're walking into a slaughter."

Dean let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "You think I don't know that? You think we don't know that?" His voice was sharp, edged with exhaustion, as he gestured to the room.

I swallowed hard, pushing off the wall I'd been leaning against and stepping up beside him. My eyes flickered over the symbols, notes, locations—possible sightings of her, the wreckage she'd left behind. The weight of their gaze shifted to me as I sighed into my concentration.

"What?" I asked, crossing my arms tighter.

"You're the closest thing we've got to understanding her," Sam said carefully, his eyes scanning my face. "You've..." He hesitated, glancing at Bri before continuing. "...seen what she's capable of, while Bri's experienced it firsthand."

"I've only seen Bri go through one night terror," I pointed out, gesturing with my hands. "That doesn't make me the Eve expert. Just because we share a name doesn't mean shit, Winchester—"

"Besides, I'm the one with the dreams." Bri cut in, leaning over the desk. "She's unpredictable." Her voice was low and tight. "Definitely not a stupid bitch—I'll give her that."

"She's not reckless either," I added, my mind working as I glared at the maps.

"And she won't make the first move," Bri murmured, chewing on her cheek again. "Not unless she's sure she can win. She's patient. She'll wait for the right moment."

"Well, ain't that comforting," Bobby muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I exhaled sharply. "Then we force the moment."

Dean arched a brow, locking onto my eyes. "Meaning?"

"We set a trap," Bri said, practically reading my mind.

I shifted my weight slightly. "Make her think she's calling the shots, when really, we are."

Dean tilted his head, considering. "Risky."

"So is doing nothing." I smirked, playfully nudging him. His eyes flicked to mine, then scanned over me before he sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

He glanced at Bri. "You think she'd take the bait?"

Bri let out a slow breath, meeting my eyes. "If she thinks it's me... yeah, she'll come."

"Live bait?" Sam interjected, his posture stiffening. "Seriously? After what we saw last night—"

"What other ideas do you have, Winchester?" I shot back, earning a warning look from Bobby.

Silence settled thick between us before Bobby exhaled sharply.

"Well, seems like that's all we got," he muttered, his gaze shifting between Bri and me. "You two put a plan together—make her believe Bri's giving herself up. Why would you be giving yourself up?" His sharp eyes landed on Bri.

Bri ran a hand through her hair, thinking. "It's obvious she's trying to isolate me." She gestured vaguely. "So why not make her believe I've been convinced she's right? That I'll eventually lose everyone and everything I love?"

"That's not depressing at all," I scoffed, earning a smirk from Bri.

Dean shifted his weight, his jaw tight. "Better hope it works."

"It will." I shot back without hesitation, gripping his hand in a firm, reassuring squeeze.

Bobby huffed, shaking his head. "John would've loved this," he muttered, looking around at us. "Seeing you two take the lead on this..." He let out a small chuckle before pushing himself out of the room, still grumbling under his breath.

Sam's jaw was set. "Are you sure about this?"

Bri let out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. "No." She folded her arms. "But I trust you guys. And that's all that matters."

I nodded, offering Bri a small smile across the desk—only for Sam to nudge her, tilting his head toward the front porch. She sighed but followed, leaving the room quieter, heavier.

I barely had a second to process before Dean nudged me next.

I raised a brow at him, watching as he moved around the desk and dropped into Bobby's chair with a familiar weight pressing down on his shoulders. Instead of joining him, I stepped toward the window, the glass cool against my fingertips as I gazed out. It struck me then—I had never been in the backyard. A strange thought to have in the middle of all this.

The weight of the upcoming fight settled thick between us. I could feel it in the way Dean's fingers tapped restlessly against the desk, in the way his jaw clenched like he was biting back words—words he wasn't sure he wanted to say yet.

"You know," he scoffed, voice tight, "I've never been nervous going into a fight..."

"No?" I smirked slightly, still staring through the aged glass.

"Eve."

His voice dropped lower, softer, like saying her name too loud might give something away—something he didn't want the world to hear.

I turned, leaning against the window frame, and found his eyes already on me. He was perched on the edge of the chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was trying to ground himself. But his eyes—God, his eyes—were dark with something deeper.

Worry.

He shook his head, exhaling sharply before looking up at me fully. "You sure about this?"

I blinked. "We've been through this."

"That's not what I asked."

Something in his voice made my stomach tighten. I uncrossed my arms, shifting my weight. "I don't have a choice."

I watched as his lips pressed into a thin line.

Then, without a word, he stood, closing the space between us in a few slow, deliberate steps. His hands found my waist—firm, steady, grounding. "I know you can handle yourself," he admitted, voice rough. "I know you're strong as hell. But that doesn't mean I'm not worried."

I opened my mouth, but he beat me to it.

"This thing? It's not just some run-of-the-mill monster." His grip tightened slightly. "You and I both know that."

"I do." My voice was softer now. "And I know the risks, Dean."

He scoffed, looking away for a second, his fingers hooking into my belt loops before his eyes snapped back to mine, burning. "Yeah? Well, I know what it's like to lose you."

The words hit me like a freight train.

"I know what it's like to not know if you're coming back."

A lump formed in my throat. "Is this about Casper?"

Dean tugged on my belt loops just enough to make my breath hitch. "Dean, we've talked about this. It wasn't your fault—"

"—But it wasn't yours either." His voice cut through the air like a blade. "I just don't want anything else happening to you on my watch."

I swallowed, tilting my head slightly as I studied him—his posture, his clenched jaw, the way his throat bobbed like the words themselves hurt.

"So yeah," he murmured, "I know you can handle yourself. But it doesn't make this any easier."

A tightness pulled in my chest as I reached up, my fingers ghosting over his jaw. "Dean..."

His hand came up, pressing over mine, holding it there like he needed the contact. "Just—promise me something, alright?"

"What?" I whispered.

His thumb traced over my knuckles, slow and deliberate. "Promise me you'll come back to me. If we get separated, you find me. If something happens, you find a way back."

I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of those words settle deep in my bones. We both knew promises like that weren't safe bets.

But still, I nodded, letting my forehead rest against his. "Only if you promise the same."

His breath hitched. "I promise."

His fingers slid down to my wrist, and suddenly, the air shifted between us. Our foreheads parted, but our eyes clashed in an entirely different way.

Dean closed his eyes for a second, exhaling like he was trying to breathe me in. Then, he kissed me—deep, desperate, like he was trying to memorize every second, just in case.

And I kissed him back, just as desperate. Because, God help me, I needed to.

"Eve."

Sam's voice cut through the moment like a blade. Dean tensed against me, his lips lingering before he pulled back just enough to shoot his brother a glare.

"Can we talk—alone?" Sam's gaze flicked to me, ignoring the way Dean practically growled at the request.

I hesitated. Dean's eyes found mine again, his jaw tight, his breath still warm against my lips. But then he sighed, pressing one last firm kiss against my lips before dragging his glare past his brother, toward the front yard.

I exhaled, turning toward Sam. "What's up, Winchester?" I scoffed, folding my arms and leaning back against the window as he stepped further into the office.

"You look worried." His eyes studied me as he dropped into Bobby's chair.

I let out a short laugh. "Wow. Thanks, Sam. That's just another way of saying I look like shit. Real confidence boost, appreciate that."

Sam scowled. "Why does everything have to be a fight with you?"

I lifted a brow, smirking. "I thought we were past this."

"We are." He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. "I just—look, I know you're worried about Bri. About Dean. About all of us."

My smirk faltered. I pushed off the window, stepping closer. "It's just—everyone keeps bringing up Casper."

Sam's expression softened. "Well, it was a scary time."

I scoffed, shoving my hands into my jeans. "Yeah. No shit." I sighed. "I keep running scenarios through my head, trying to find one where we all make it out of this." My fingers curled into fists in my pockets. "Maybe it's just first-battle jitters, but—"

Sam chuckled suddenly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What? They're a thing." I scoffed, as Sam held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Listen, you're Bri's best friend." Sam's voice turned serious, pulling my attention. I stopped pacing, withdrawing my hands from my pockets and placing them firmly on my hips. "If shit goes sideways, I need you to promise me something..."

"...What?" I blinked, narrowing my eyes.

"If shit goes sideways out there, I need you to promise me that you'll get Bri out of there." Sam's jaw tightened, and the weight of his words hit me hard.

I let out a humorless chuckle. "Jesus," I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a heavy exhale as I glanced around the newly organized office, avoiding the desk that still felt cluttered with tension. "Obviously, Sam! I wouldn't just leave her there."

"I mean," his jaw tightened even more, "If something happens to me..."

"...Sam, don't start that shit." I scoffed, the serious look flickering across my face as I saw his eyes, unwavering. "You don't get to make this about you."

He was serious.

"You have to promise me." His eyes were locked onto mine now, deep, raw, and heavy with unspoken fears.

"I'm not doing that." I smirked, crossing my arms, but the defiance in my posture was fading just slightly, replaced by a deep unease.

"Why the hell not?" Sam growled, taking a step closer, and I felt the intensity of his desperation.

"Because you're not going anywhere." I snapped back, my voice firm, but the weight of the thought lingered in the air.

"Eve, we don't know how this is gonna play out—" His words trailed off, but I caught the flicker in his eyes, a trace of something that made my stomach twist. He caught me thinking it. He knew what was on my mind. "—I'd do the same for you if anything happens to Dean."

"Shut up." I scoffed, my glare hardening, but my chest felt tight as his words hit too close to home.

"I need to know that if the worst happens, you'll get her out and somewhere safe." Sam's voice was steady, but his eyes were pleading. "You're the only one she'll listen to."

I shrugged, my eyes drifting to the floor for a brief moment before I met his gaze again. "That goes without saying..."

"But don't say shit like that," I snapped, finally turning to face him fully. My chest tightened further, my mind racing. "Like you're expecting you and Dean to just throw yourselves into the line of fire... like you've already decided and accepted it."

"I'm not accepting anything." He shot back, voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. "I just—" His words faltered as he ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes like he was trying to clear the thoughts clouding his mind. "I was watching her sleep last night... and after her disappearing, after what I did... I just... I couldn't get it out of my head."

My expression softened, my anger simmering down. Sam's vulnerability was rare, and seeing him like this pulled at something deep inside me. I understood his fear, but it didn't make the situation any easier.

"Eve," Sam huffed, rising from Bobby's chair to narrow his eyes at me. "I trust you, I know you'd do anything to protect her—"

"Damn right." I smirked, my tone dripping with audacity, but my insides churned at the thought.

I swallowed hard, feeling the burn in my throat as visions of Bri, Dean, and Sam all dying flashed through my mind. "You know," I huffed, pushing through the knot forming in my chest, "she's not gonna leave without you."

"I know." Sam exhaled slowly, stepping closer, his palms resting firmly on my shoulders. His grip was steady, but there was a weight in his eyes. "That's why you have to make sure she does."

"What about Dean?" I gestured vaguely, feeling a strange mix of frustration and fear welling up.

"Eve, you're a Vampire." Sam raised an eyebrow at my words. "You can carry both of them if you have to."

"Way to have more faith in me than I do." I snorted, the bitter laugh escaping before I could stop it. He chuckled lightly, but the humor in the air was short-lived. "You're asking me to abandon you."

"I'm asking you to save her." His voice lowered, more urgent now. "Bri doesn't deserve to see anything like that—" he broke off, his tone darkening, "not after everything she's been through. And you don't either. Given the fact you're both too fucking stubborn to leave, we're having these kinds of conversations now."

I blinked, swallowing back a curse. The words hung in the air, thick with the tension between us.

"Now, if there's even a chance you can get her out, you take it. No hesitation." Sam's eyes were wide, pleading almost, but his determination was unshakable.

I stared at him, my pulse hammering in my ears, my chest tightening with rage and fear. This wasn't the plan. This wasn't what we'd signed up for.

After a long, painful silence, I smirked through clenched teeth and whispered, my voice thick with the knot in my throat, "I don't know if I can."

"You can." Sam's lips pressed into a fine line, his voice firm, unwavering.

I swallowed again, my gaze shifting away, the weight of his words sinking deeper. What the hell am I agreeing to? My mind raced with outcomes, none of them comforting.

"Promise me, Eve." His voice was softer now, but it still carried that same unrelenting force, pulling something tight in my chest.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose and exhaling slowly, trying to steady the whirlwind inside me. "Fine." I forced the words through gritted teeth, each syllable a battle. "I... I fucking promise."

Sam let out a breath that sounded like relief, but it didn't make me feel any better. It just made the whole situation feel more real—and I hated him for making me promise.

I hated this whole thing. But despite all the factors trying to play against us, I remained firm in my mind that this was where I belonged.

Where Bri belonged.

Between these two idjits and death.