Written: KariGorsuch

I stepped onto the front porch, holding the door open for Sam, who followed me out. The early afternoon sunlight glared off several chrome pieces scattered around the yard- old car parts, scrap metal, and whatever Bobby had been tinkering with before everything went to hell.

Sam exhaled heavily, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed. His jaw was set tight, his expression unreadable as he stared out into the yard.

"You're pissed," I muttered, watching him carefully.

He let out a short, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm not pissed," he said, but the edge in his voice told me otherwise. "I just- this plan, Bri. It's dangerous as hell."

I sighed, stepping up beside him and resting my hands against the railing. "I know."

He turned his head slightly, studying me. "Then why do it?"

I swallowed, staring down at the chipped wood beneath my fingers. "Because it's the only shot we have, where we can call the shots." My voice was quiet but firm. "We can't just sit around and wait for her to make a move. We have to force her hand."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "And you think putting yourself in the crosshairs is the best way to do that?"

I met his gaze, something twisting in my chest at the way his eyes searched mine- worried, frustrated, conflicted. "She's after me, Sam. At least this way, we control the narrative."

"This isn't control," he argued, turning to face me fully. "This is gambling with your life."

I held his gaze, unflinching. "And what would you suggest we do? If we wait for her to  make a move, it could cost us everything."

His jaw tightened, frustration flickering across his face. "I just—" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I hate this. I hate that this is our best shot. I hate that it has to be you."

I softened slightly, reaching out to touch his arm. "I know," I admitted quietly. "But she won't come unless she thinks I'm giving in. And that means making it real. Making it believable."

Sam's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "And what if it works too well?  Bri- I just got you back..."

I smiled sadly, "You didn't get me back, Sam. You may be sleeping in the same bed as me, but... we- as a couple-" I hesitated, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "-We're not back. Not really."

Sam's expression twisted, like I'd physically hit him. His hands clenched at his sides, but he didn't look away. "That's not-" he stopped himself, exhaling hard. "You're going to hold this against me. And I deserve it-"

I held up a hand, stopping him. "This isn't about holding a damn grudge, Sam. You made the choice- and I get it. But you can't expect everything to just snap back into place like nothing happened just because you changed your mind."

Sam's shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked... lost. He rubbed a hand over his face, breathing out slowly before dropping it back to his side. "Don't stab me," he whispered, then wrapped an arm around my waist and tugged me against his chest.

I barely had time to react before his lips crashed into mine, his other hand finding its way to the back of my neck.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't cautious. It was like he was trying to hold onto me, as if this might be the last time he ever got the chance. His kiss was deep, hungry, and full of all the things we had been holding back. His lips moved with a frantic urgency, as though each second counted. I could taste the fear on him, the unspoken apologies that had been building between us, and the way he had been holding back.

His hand slid into my hair, tangling in the strands as he deepened the kiss, pulling me closer, pressing me against him like he was afraid I might slip away. The world around us seemed to fade, the sounds of the wind, the creaking of the house, everything, until it was just him and me—like it always used to be, before all the pain, the choices, the regrets.

When he finally pulled back, both of us breathless, his forehead rested against mine, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. His thumb traced the curve of my jaw gently as if memorizing the feel of me under his touch.

"God, Bri..." he murmured, voice rough, but full of that same desperate need. "I'm sorry. For everything. For all the ways I screwed this up."

I closed my eyes for a moment, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "Sam, I...I want to forgive you- I do. But I can't just pretend like it never happened. I can't make that same mistake."

His hand cupped my cheek, firm but gentle. "I didn't say any of that because I wanted to, or because I stopped caring about you, or because I thought you weren't enough. I said it because I thought I wasn't. I can't offer you a safe, monster-free- life."

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "You think I don't know that by now? You think I expected safe? This was never about safety, Sam. Fuck- if it was, I sure as hell wouldn't have agreed to go snooping through the State's Most Haunted list." My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. "It was about choice- and you took that away."

Sam flinched, and for a second, I saw it- the way the words hit him like a physical blow. He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. "Bri-" he pleaded, "I'm not him."

I sighed, pulling back just enough to look at him fully, really looking at the man in front of me- the man who had torn my heart apart not out of malice, not out of cruelty, but out of fear. Fear that I would end up like everyone else he'd loved and lost.

"No, you're not, you're much better looking," I teased, shaking my head. "Jared lied to me. Manipulated me. Used me when it suited him, then tossed me aside like I was nothing. You, on the other hand... You let me go because you thought it was the right thing to do. Because in your mind, you were protecting me." I let out a breath. "But it still hurt the same, Sam."

His thumb brushed my cheek. "I hate that I made you feel that way," he whispered. "That I made you feel like you didn't have a choice. Because, Bri, you do."

I searched his face, my chest aching. "Then why does it feel like you're the only one who gets to make the calls? You hate this idea of me giving in to this bitch- and I know you wouldn't go along with it if you had any other ideas."

"Because I've lost too damn much, and I was convinced that if I let myself have this- have you- I'd lose you, too." His eyes darkened, something almost haunted flickering there. "And I couldn't survive that."

I could've told him I understood. That I knew what it was like to be so afraid of losing something that you pushed it away before it could be taken. Instead, I just whispered, "You don't get to decide that, Sam."

His breath hitched slightly, and I felt his heartbeat pound beneath my hand. He leaned down, so carefully, like he was afraid I'd vanish, and rested his forehead against mine again. "I know," he murmured. "I know."

Silence stretched between us, heavy but not suffocating. Just... full. Of history. Of pain. Of something still unbroken, even after everything.

Finally, I whispered, "If you run again, I won't chase you."

Sam's grip tightened, his voice barely above a breath. "I'm not running. Eve will kill me with my brother's own knife if I even think about doing that again."

A short, breathy laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "Damn right, she will."

Taking a deep breath, I pushed back from Sam's embrace. "Go," I gestured back towards the house. "You guys need a plan for how and if you're going to stop this bitch."

"When."

I cocked my head to the side, giving him a quizzical look. "When?"

"You said 'if' we're going to stop her. It's 'when' we are going to stop her."

I huffed, shaking my head. "Alright, Winchester. When you're going to stop her."

Sam hesitated, his jaw flexing like he wanted to argue. "And you?"

I crossed my arms, glancing out toward the cars. The breeze stirred the dust and leaves, a quiet whisper against the silence. "I need to pack a few things. It's better if I don't know the plan anyway- just in case anything goes... sideways. Who knows what she knows- or can find out. If she can read minds or some shit- it would ruin everything for me to know what your plan is."

Sam's brow furrowed, the weight of my words hanging in the air between us. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, like he realized I was right. He gave a small, resigned nod. "Don't leave without us."

I gave him a small smile, one that didn't reach my eyes. "I won't, I promise. Now go."

Sam hesitated for a moment longer, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to read something that wasn't there. Finally, he gave a small nod and turned back toward the door.

With a quiet sigh, I turned and made my way out to the Mustang. Opening the trunk, I pulled a small backpack out and emptied it. The few items it housed tumbled onto the false floor- extra ammo, an old knife, and a half-empty first aid kit.

I stared at the scattered contents for a moment, before shoving the extra ammo back into the bag. Grabbing a clean shirt and a flask I had no memory of purchasing, I shoved the items in the bag, zipped it shut, and slung it over my shoulder.

The sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel behind me made me tense for half a second before I recognized Dean's cadence.

"You skipping town, or should I start taking bets on how long before Sammy blows a gasket?"

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. "Not running, Dean. I swear. Eve would rip me a new one if I left without telling her. Besides, it kinda defeats the purpose of you guys coming up with a plan if I just bail."

Dean snorted, leaning back against the Impala's hood. "Smart girl." Then his gaze flicked to my bag, his smirk faltering.

"That why you're packing light? Or are you just planning on making it easier for the bitch to haul you off?"

I rolled my eyes. "Just grabbing the essentials."

"Right." He crossed his arms, weight shifting slightly as he studied me. "And by 'essentials,' you mean whatever crap makes it look like you're actually considering her offer."

I hesitated. "It has to look real, Dean."

His jaw ticked, but he nodded, exhaling slowly. "Yeah, I get it. Just don't get so deep in the act that you start believing your own bullshit, alright?"

I met his gaze, something unspoken settling between us. Dean didn't do emotional talks, but this? This was as close as he got to saying don't do something you can't come back from.

"I won't," I promised.

Dean seemed to weigh my words before nodding. "Good. 'Cause if you get yourself killed, I'll find a way to bring you back just so I can kick your ass."

I let out a short laugh, the tension in my chest easing just a little. "I appreciate it, Dean, but honestly it's not me that I'm worried about. It's Sam."

Dean's brow furrowed, and he looked over at me, a flicker of concern passing through his usually guarded expression. "Sam's tough, Bri. He'll be fine."

I sighed, dropping my bag. "I know he is- just... these fucking nightmares. I just don't want to lose him. Even if we aren't... okay- I don't want anything to happen."

Dean was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he ran a hand down his face. "Look, I get it. More than you probably think."

I glanced up, my chest tightening. "Dean-"

He shook his head, cutting me off. "Sam's my brother, Bri. And yeah, he's been through the wringer- hell, we all have. But you? Hell Bri, in the past month, you've given him more of a reason to fight than anything."

I blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice.

He shrugged, glancing away like he hadn't just dropped something heavy between us. "And yeah, I know he screwed up. But if you're worried about losing him, you should know- he's just as scared of losing you."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against my chest. "Yeah, well... Fear doesn't always stop people from doing stupid things."

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Ain't that the truth." He shifted, crossing his arms. "Speaking of people doing stupid things... Eve."

I arched a brow, adjusting my jeans. "What about her?"

Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's all in on this, same as you. But I need to know- if things go sideways- you'll get her out of there."

I frowned, crossing my arms. "Dean-"

"I'm serious, Bri," he cut in, his voice low but firm. "If this thing goes to hell, I need to know you'll pull her out, no matter what."

I let out a slow breath, studying him. "You really think I'd just leave her?"

"I know you won't," he admitted. "But I also know that she's not gonna back down. Even if it kills her."

The truth settled heavily between us. "Look, I trust her to watch our backs- I do. But Eve's got a habit of putting herself in the line of fire without thinking twice. She did it for me- and with both of us there- if she goes down, if she-" he cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "Just promise me, Bri."

I held his gaze, my chest tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. "You love her."

Dean's jaw tensed, his eyes flicking away for half a second before locking back onto mine. "I didn't say that."

I let out a quiet scoff, shaking my head. "You didn't have to."

Dean exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus, Bri."

"What? You think I wouldn't notice?" I tilted my head, crossing my arms. "Or is it that you didn't want to admit it?"

Dean huffed, shaking his head like he was trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. "Doesn't matter."

I arched a brow. "The hell it doesn't."

He shot me a sharp look. "We're walking into a fight with something that could rip any one of us apart. So yeah, maybe I don't wanna sit here and play therapy hour, alright?"

I sighed, my expression softening. "You can pretend it doesn't matter all you want, but if something happens-"

"Nothing's gonna happen," he cut in, but his voice lacked its usual edge.

I studied him for a long moment before shaking my head. "You should tell her."

Dean scoffed, looking away. "Yeah, that's a great idea. 'Hey, Eve, right before we go risk our lives, let me dump a whole truckload of feelings on you.'"

"Dean, would you rather never tell her and have something happen, or tell her and be able to move forward once this is done with?"

Dean clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wanted to argue but couldn't find the words. His gaze flicked away, staring at the Mustang like she might give him an answer.

"Damnit, Bri," he muttered, exhaling sharply. "You make it sound so damn simple."

I shrugged. "Because it is."

"Then what about you and Sam?

My smirk faltered just slightly, the question hitting harder than I expected. "That's different."

Dean arched a brow, clearly enjoying the rare moment of having the upper hand. "Yeah? That's all you got?"

I huffed, rolling my eyes. "Screw you, Dean."

"There it is." He smirked, crossing his arms. "Look, all I'm saying is—maybe don't be such a damn hypocrite. You're over here calling me out, but you and Sam? You've been stuck in the same angst-ridden soap opera since day one."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "It's not that simple."

"Yeah, neither is telling Eve," he shot back. "But apparently, I'm just supposed to man up and do it?"

I exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand down my face. "Dean—"

"No, you wanna dish it out? Fine. Here's some for you." He stepped closer, leveling me with a pointed look. "You and Sam? You're the same damn mess we are. The only difference is, you already know how he feels. So what the hell are you waiting for?"

I opened my mouth—then shut it. Because the truth was, I didn't have a good answer.

Dean tilted his head. "Yeah. Thought so."

"Fuck. You," I snapped.

Dean smirked, clearly satisfied with himself. "You wish, sweetheart."

I huffed, shaking my head, but there was no real heat behind it. We both knew he hit a little too close to home.

"Look," he said, his voice dropping some of its teasing edge. "My brother isn't perfect, but he'll try like hell to fix his mistakes rather than blame them all on you."

I shook my head, my pulse pounding in my ears as Dean's words echoed in the cool air. "Fix his mistakes? What if some things can't be fixed, Dean?" I snapped, my tone more vulnerable than I intended. I hated how close his words cut—how they made me feel like I was the one left holding the pieces.

Dean's eyes softened just for a moment before his usual smirk crept back in. "Bri, listen. Sam's a damn stubborn son of a bitch, but he'd rather face the mess head-on than bury his head in the sand. All you have to do is let him."

The words settled deep, threading through the doubt twisting in my chest. I wanted to argue, to push back against the truth he was laying out in front of me. But I couldn't.

Dean watched me for a beat before clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Look, you don't have to figure it all out right now. Just don't be an idiot, alright? And maybe—just maybe—stop thinking so damn much and let yourself have something good for once."

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. "You're real good at giving advice you don't take, you know that?"

Dean smirked. "Yeah, well. Do as I say, not as I do."

I rolled my eyes but felt the hallmark moment ease. "Hypocrite," I teased. "You should get back, and make sure they aren't planning some suicide path."

Dean huffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, because that'd be a real shocker." He shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing toward the house. "Eve's probably already three steps ahead of whatever dumbass idea Sam's cooking up."

I smirked. "Sounds about right."

Dean hesitated for half a second before nodding toward me. "Just... remember. Get Eve out of there if things turn shitty."