It's Tuesday but I've had a lot of stress on me lately especially now that we're supposed to get hit directly by Hurricane Irma this weekend so I figured I'd update since your guys' comments really make me happy. Plus I know you guys will love this chapter 😉

Dean looked up to Bobby who nodded, snatching the whiskey from his grasp and taking over. "Just two more bad ones and then the rest are little scratches. Then we can stitch you up," Dean told her. She nodded and opened her eyes, her chest heaving quickly as she stared up at Dean through tear-filled eyes. He sent her a small reassuring smile before Bobby poured the alcohol on her forearm. Cassandra's muffled scream wasn't as loud, but Dean knew that to angels and demons, Bobby's house was probably glowing like a Christmas tree with a bright red arrow flashing down towards Cassandra.

"One more. You got this, girl," Bobby said. He went to lift up the hem of her shirt but stopped, noticing that it was torn to shreds from all of the glass. The older Hunter looked up to Dean for permission to just rip it off but Dean just shook his head. Bobby knew that he would've had a reason for making something harder so he nodded, lifting it up only as much as he needed to.

   Bobby caught sight of some of the scars and made out the last two letters before pouring the whiskey in the wound. Cassandra's scream turned into a muffled sob and she shook her head, her grip on Dean's hand turning his white. "Done. We're done. I'll give you a breather before we stitch you up." Cassandra nodded and pulled the belt from her mouth, panting as she tossed it to the side.

Dean grabbed a washcloth and dabbed at the smaller wounds that kept bleeding, applying pressure until they slowed enough for him to move on to the next.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" he asked with a chuckle. Cassandra scowled up at him.

"I would punch you if it wouldn't hurt so much," she sneered. Dean rolled his eyes playfully, pulling the cloth away from the wounds. He grabbed the whiskey and handed it to her. She turned her nose at it.

"Trust me, Cassy, you're gonna need it for the stitching." She sighed and slowly looked back to the bottle, taking it from his grasp. Reluctantly, Cassandra brought the half-empty bottle to her lips and took long gulps, ignoring the burning sensation as it poured down her throat. She pulled the bottle away and sighed, wiping the back of her mouth and handing it to Dean.

"Here," she croaked out. He nodded and set it back on the coffee table.

"I know you won't like this, but I gotta take off your shirt to stitch you up. The fabric will get in the way and just infect it again. You may be a Nephilim but I'm sure infections still hurt like a bitch," he explained. Cassandra's gaze drifted down to her stomach and she nodded, letting Dean help her pull the jacket from her shoulders. Bobby walked back in the room with scissors and handed them to Dean since the blonde couldn't lift her arms.

"Need any help?" Bobby questioned. Dean shook his head.

"Nah, I got this." Bobby nodded and retreated from the room, leaving the Hunter and the Nephilim on the floor. Cassandra tensed once Dean started to cut off the shirt, tossing it to the side. "Good thing you didn't go braless today," he joked. Cassandra managed a weak smile and chuckled but quickly stopped, groaning.

"Please don't make me laugh."

"Sorry." She nodded and turned as best as she could to lean against the table to give Dean room to stitch her up. "So where did you plan on going?" Dean asked, attempting to make conversation as he sterilized the needle.

"I was thinking New York. Transfer colleges. Hell, I even thought of going back to Tennessee and begging my professor to let me take the exam because my mom died. Guilt trips usually work." Dean chuckled and shook his head, handing the bottle of whiskey to Cassandra. She got the message and took a long gulp. Whatever was coming was about to hurt like a bitch.

"So why psychology? I mean, wouldn't that just make you worse with hearing all of the negativity?" Dean pushed the needle through her skin and she winced, gulping. "Conversation usually helps." She clenched her eyes shut and nodded.

"Yeah, I kinda get that," Cassandra choked out. She sucked in a sharp breath and let Dean continue stitching up the gash on her stomach. He did his best to keep his gaze off of the scarring and her breasts, but it didn't help every time her chest heaved from the heavy, pain-filled breaths. "Uh, I've been able to distance myself from other people's feelings and emotions. It's mine that bring me down." Dean nodded in understanding.

"Does the college know about the past four years?" Cassandra shook her head, her eyes still closed. "So how did you hide the week long absences from them?"

"Bullshit lies. I had Sandy and my friend Amber bring me the assignments and notes and I did them there. My textbooks were harmless so they let me keep them." Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just that I never wouldn't thought I'd be in a room with you shirtless, Miss Innocent Virgin." Cassandra ran her tongue across her teeth and leaned her head back on the table, sucking in a deep breath.

"Oh, I would totally smack you if you didn't have a needle in me and I didn't feel like I was gonna puke." Dean stopped, throwing his head back and laughing. "Don't laugh. Just stitch me up. We're going to be here a long time." Dean nodded his head to the side.

"I wouldn't mind that. I have to say, it's quite the view I have." Cassandra managed a smile. "And you want to know the best part?" Cassandra hummed in response, her eyes still closed and trying to ignore the pain as he pushed the needle through her skin. "You might have to take your pants off for me to stitch your thigh." She opened her eyes and lifted her head up, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you flirt with every girl or am I just special?"

"Well, I don't just stitch up and protect random women for hell of it." Cassandra snickered despite the pain.

"I think you can just rip my jeans more. It's not that bad and this outfit is already a goner. It's a shame, too."

"Yeah?" She nodded. "Why's that?"

"It's my favorite outfit." Dean leaned back and studied it. It was just her boots, black skinny jeans, a loose white shirt, a black lace bra, and her signature leather jacket.

"I'm sure it'd look amazing if it weren't torn to shreds," Dean replied. He tied off the last stitch and snipped the thread with the scissors, moving on to her arm.

"Damn demons."

"They are bastards. I'm proud of you, though." She furrowed her eyebrows as she watched him, pretty much numb to the pain now that the whiskey kicked in. Cassandra swore she was drunk, not that she'd know what that feels like. She had never had alcohol before. Her mom always offered her sips of wine but she refused them, claiming that alcohol was bad for her and that she wanted to stay as healthy as possible. If only tween Cassandra could see herself now.

"Why's that?"

"Because you fought off a demon and managed to de-ward yourself without knowing how any of your powers work. We'll have to have Cas ward you again but I'll make sure you're drunk when that happens. It seems painful for you," the blond explained. Cassandra nodded in agreement and stayed quiet, her eyes following Dean's movements as he stitched up her arm. He glanced up at her every now and again to make sure she was okay, his tongue pressed between his lips in concentration. Cassandra took that as her chance to really study Dean as she had never found the time before.

The light that illuminated the room in the night time reflected off of Dean's eyes, showing them off as a color that Cassandra could only describe as 'Disney Princess Green.' She bit back a chuckle at her thought, her gaze falling to his cheeks. Despite the stress and the lack of sleep that showed clearly in the dark circles under his disney princess eyes, freckles dotted his face. In her dream she could remember there being more so she assumed that they just faded over time considering she was pretty sure he didn't wear makeup. Cassandra watched as he tilted his head to the side, his jawline defined and sharp. If just his face looked this good then she couldn't imagine how good he looked shirtless.

"What?" Cassandra's gaze snapped from Dean's jawline to his eyes.

"Huh?" She didn't recall saying anything. Dean stopped tying off the stitches on her forearm and raised an eyebrow.

"Were you checking me out?" Cassandra furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "You said something about me being shirtless." She fought back the blush that threatened to creep its way up her cheeks and she only hoped that her neck wasn't bright red and that if it was that the blood hid it.

"No I didn't," she replied slowly, turning her head ever-so-slightly. Dean shrugged and sighed, cutting the leftover thread that he had used to stitch her arm.

"Whatever you say." He got up and walked around to her left side, positioning himself and the tools needed to stitch her leg. "You were totally checking me out," Dean muttered under his breath with a smug smirk. Cassandra scowled and narrowed her eyes at him.

"I was not!" she objected. Dean threw his head back and laughed.

"No one denies something that much unless they actually did it. Seriously, Cassy, were you checking me out or not?" Cassandra rolled her eyes and looked away, ignoring Dean's snicker as she observed the room. It seemed to be Bobby's living room. The couch was behind them, multiple bottles of alcohol resting on the coffee table that Cassandra leaned on. She glanced to her left around Dean's head and took notice in all of the bookshelves. They seemed to feed in from another room that was most likely the library. "It's fine if you were checking me out."

"Dean," Cassandra warned, yelping when Dean tugged on the thread a little too hard. "Watch it," she hissed. He sent her an apologetic glance before instantly shifting back to his playful demeanor. "I wasn't checking you out." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Cassandra, I can recognize that look because I do it all the time. I did it to you when we first met," Dean said with a shrug. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted slightly in shock. Dean looked up, laughing at her expression. "You were in a tank top and underwear and you invited two guys in your apartment. What did you expect?"

"For you to be gentlemen," she retorted. Dean arched an eyebrow at the blonde.

"You do have a nice ass, though."

"Dean."

"It's true." Cassandra let out a huff and instead looked down at her thigh and watched as Dean fed the needle through. "Can you not feel anything right now?" Cassandra furrowed her eyebrows.

"It's like...pinching. I think the alcohol is working. What was that?" she questioned. Dean eyed her with an amused smile before licking his lips and glancing back down at her thigh.

"Cheap whiskey." She nodded. "You don't drink, do you?"

"That was my first alcoholic drink ever," Cassandra admitted. Dean shook his head, still smiling. Bobby peeked his head through the doorway to watch, wondering why Dean was laughing and joking around so much. He had been so down and depressed ever since Sam had left with Ruby that it was odd to see him smile or hear him laugh. Bobby hadn't seen it in years, probably.

"Wow. You're just a virgin for everything, aren't you?" Cassandra tried to scowl but it came out as a smile instead. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or if it was just Dean being Dean, but he managed to make the situation a bit lighter. "Glad I could make your life a bit better."

"Don't get me wrong; I'd love to see where this adventure takes me but I do miss the simplicity of college. I was hoping to go back but I see Ruby ruined that." Dean pressed his lips in a thin line. There was nothing to say to Cassandra that he had already told her. She sighed and leaned her head back on the table, staring up at the ceiling fan. "Do you ever want a normal life?" Dean shrugged.

"I don't really think about it that much since it can't happen. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. You're just so...serious and dangerous." She lifted her head up and looked back to Dean. "Were you the bad boy as a teenager?" Dean nodded and snickered at her question. Cassandra pursed her lips as she went back to studying him, her eyes falling on a red scar peeking out of the sleeve of his t-shirt. The blonde reached out and lifted the sleeve slightly to see a scar in the shape of a handprint. Dean tensed and stopped stitching up her thigh, staring blankly at the wound. Bobby watched from the doorway with intrigue. "What happened?"

"Hell happened." He looked up to meet Cassandra's confused gaze. "Literally." Her face fell and she nodded. Now she understood why Dean snapped at her when she said she felt like she was in Hell just weeks earlier. Cassandra had no idea what Hell truly feels like, but Dean does.

"I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"It's fine," he replied sharply. Dean shrugged her hand off and continued with the stitching. Bobby frowned. He was hoping that Dean would talk about it with someone if he wouldn't talk about it with he and Sam. Cassandra ran her hand through the carpet, guilt settling in the pit of her stomach. She suddenly felt sick and wished for nothing more than to crawl into a hole and vanish. Dean noticed her silence and looked up. He recognized that guilt. He wore it everyday. "I'm not mad. I just don't like talking about it."

"I get it." Dean arched a single eyebrow and Cassandra closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. "I don't mean Hell, I mean not wanting to talk about something in your past. It's haunting and it just makes you relive it over and over again until you want to—"

"Kill yourself?" Dean finished. Cassandra stopped talking and nodded. Dean finished up her thigh and sat back, studying the Nephilim. "Is that why you did it all those times?"

"Yes."

"Do you regret it?" Cassandra pursed her lips in thought. Did she regret it? Did she regret the fact that she could've escaped all of her problems and burdens? Did she regret the fact that she could have been with Jess and her mom by now? Did she regret missing the chance to never feel pain again?

"No." Dean sighed and nodded, starting to clean up the needle and thread. He grabbed one of the clean washcloths and dipped it in the bowl of water that Bobby had also brought out and started to wipe the blood away from her neck. "I know that's not the answer you were looking for but I wasn't going to lie."

"As if you haven't before?" Dean snapped. Cassandra shook her head.

"I've never lied to you, Dean," she whispered. He stopped, his hand on her knee as he leaned forward to get the back of her neck, and his gaze softened. "It was you, Sam, and Castiel that lied to me, remember? I've only tried to run but never to lie."

"You lied once. You said you could fight."

"I said I could fight not that I was good at it. That wasn't a lie." Cassandra pushed herself off of the floor, wincing when she put weight on her left leg. Not only did she have a bad knee, now she had a deep wound that would take forever to heal if she didn't get Castiel to do it for her. Her hand shot out and she leaned against the table. "I don't lie to you; I won't lie to you. I may not be able to trust you and Sam but you've only tried to help me," she told him, her voice sharp and rising with every word. Bobby retreated, knowing this was a conversation that he shouldn't be eavesdropping on.

"You could've run with Jimmy Novak and found Cas on your own yet you stayed. Why?" Dean spun around from his spot on the floor to look at her. Her gaze softened and she shook her head. Her leg was raised slightly, absolutely no pressure applied to her left leg. He pushed himself off of the carpet, glancing down at the red tinted water before looking back up to Cassandra when she started to speak.

"Don't you get it, Dean? I'm a psychology major! I can read people and I can clearly see that you're not given a chance very often. I was trying to trust you guys and give you a chance. I thought that maybe, just maybe, that chance could make you stop hating yourself." Dean recoiled at her words, his grip tightening on the washcloth in his grasp.

"I don't—"

"Stop. It's clear as day to me. You loathe yourself so much that there's not even a word to describe how much you hate yourself. I just wish that you didn't feel that way because whatever happened in your past that made you this way, I can promise you that it's not your fault," Cassandra continued. Dean set the objects in his hand down on the coffee table before straightening his posture and looking Cassandra dead in the eyes. She pressed her lips in a thin line anxiously and waited for a response.

"I did it to save Sam." Cassandra stared at him in confusion before it hit her. He was talking about the reason he went to Hell. "Sam died and I couldn't just let him stay dead. I wouldn't have been able to move on without him. So I made a demon deal." He held his arms out in a shrug before letting them fall back down to his sides. Cassandra's gaze softened. "They only gave me a year but that was fine with me because it meant Sam got a life."

"How long ago was this?" the Nephilim whispered. She wanted to know if that was why the voices in her head had started up again. She wanted to know if it was Dean crawling out of Hell that caused her to land herself a spot back in the Knoxville Psychward.

"You know how long, Cassandra," Dean replied softly. Her eyes widened. He had read her whole file, not just bits and pieces. "Angel Radio was strong enough to break through the barrier that your medication put up and cause you to do that; and it was all my fault." She shook her head and limped over towards Dean.

"No. It wasn't your fault. You didn't get Sam killed. You do many things, Dean, but I know you wouldn't be the reason that Sam died. You didn't ask to be pulled out of Hell either. That was Heaven's choice."

"And in doing so I broke the first seal. I'm the reason all of this started." Cassandra scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. She didn't understand what the seals were or what was going on. Sam and Dean had never really explained it to her. She was in the dark for most of it, not knowing the real reason why Michael wanted her back so badly. She shook her head.

"I-I don't understand. What seal? What's started? Dean, you're scaring me. Just tell me what's going on," Cassandra pleaded as he looked away. Dean licked his lips, his jaw clenching. "Dean, please. I'm so confused. I have no idea why these angels and demons are after me. I don't know how any of this works." Dean closed his eyes and sighed.

"The Apocalypse, Cassy. The literal Apocalypse," he whispered. Her eyes widened.

"Armageddon," she muttered. Dean nodded. "How were you the first seal?"

"What happened to me in Hell was the first seal and now there's only one left to break. Sam's gone and I'm afraid that he's going to break it." Cassandra stumbled and Dean quickly caught her, furrowing his eyebrows at her frantic expression.

"What do you mean Sam's gone?" Her voice was strong and loud and Bobby could hear it from upstairs. Dean searched her eyes for an answer before realizing that she didn't know. She had absolutely no idea what happened the past two weeks. "Dean?"

"Cassy, Sam took off with Ruby, a demon he was running around with for the four months that I was in Hell." Cassandra staggered back and sat down on the edge of the coffee table, running a hand through her bloody, matted, blonde hair. "What's wrong?" She looked up with wide, fear-filled, icy blue eyes.

"Dean, the demon that I was with on the highway...she introduced herself as Ruby. Brunette, brown eyes, slim build. She talked about Sam like she knew him but I figured she was just a demon you guys encountered and had gotten away," the blonde explained. Dean glanced towards the doorway and opened his mouth to call out Bobby's name but stopped. Sam made his decision. He walked out that door after Dean made it clear that if he did he wasn't to come back. Cassandra snapped her fingers in Dean's face. "Dean, shouldn't we tell Bobby and get Sam?"

Dean shook his head and looked back to the blonde. "No. Sam made his decision. That's not our problem anymore."

"But—"

"You'll stay here until you heal. Once you're healed we can start your training. When I'm done with you you'll be able to take on Michael and end everything." Cassandra kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to argue with Dean. So she nodded. Dean wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her over to the couch, gently setting her down. "You can sleep down here until you're well enough to make it up the stairs." Cassandra chuckled and shook her head.

"Dean, I could barely make it up stairs before. My knee is so screwed up and I don't know how to fix it without constant physical therapy." Dean sat down on the couch next to her, turning to face the Nephilim. She must've forgotten that she was only wearing a bra and ripped jeans because she acted as if everything were normal despite her insecurities and being half naked.

"So we'll fix your knee and train at the same time. We can start with small things like punches before really getting into it," Dean told her. Cassandra cocked her head to the side and studied Dean, shaking her head. "What?"

"I don't get it."

"Don't get what?" he asked slowly, unsure of where she was going with this.

"I don't get why you're helping me. Castiel said to protect me, not train me. Not be nice to me. He just said you can't hurt me and you can't let the angels and demons get me. That's it. It was that simple and you and Sam have worried about my nightmares and want to train me. You're doing more than told," she explained. The Hunter sighed and shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

"I help people, Cassy. It's what I do." She nodded and fell silent, glancing around. Dean's gaze dropped to her stomach and he studied the word that was carved into her skin. MONSTER. "Was it an attempt?" Cassandra snapped her gaze back towards Dean before her eyes drifted down to where he was staring. She gulped and eyed it uncomfortably, shifting in her seat. She glanced around for a shirt or a blanket or anything to cover the scars but she came up with nothing. Dean noticed her discomfort and sighed. "I shouldn't have asked."

"It wasn't an attempt. The doctors and paramedics thought it was but I know for sure that it wasn't." Dean stared at her, confused. Cassandra sighed and glanced away, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth and debating whether she should continue or not. Dean knew not to press her, but he was interested in hearing what she had to say. Cassandra decided to go ahead and tell the Hunter, hoping that in return he'd tell her about his time downstairs. "I didn't know I was doing it until after when they found me." Dean's eyes widened.

"How do you not know that? I saw the picture and all of the blood..." Dean trailed off. Cassandra shrugged.

"I really don't know. It's like I wasn't in my body. It's like something was controlling me. I figured I had just had an episode and like blacked out. I really don't know what to think. I've tried not to think about it, although it's kind of hard with it being so easy to see. It's the one thing I wish I never did," Cassandra explained. Dean let out a sigh and shook his head, his gaze drifting between her eyes and the scars on her torso. "You're the only one who's seen it who isn't a doctor. My mom only saw pictures but I wouldn't show her."

"So I'm another first," Dean replied with a smirk. Despite the topic at hand being so dark and depressing, Cassandra chuckled and nodded, a smile playing on her lips.

"Yes, you're another one of my firsts." Dean sighed and glanced at the watch on his wrist before looking out the window. It was pitch black considering it was midnight. Bobby had already gone up to bed leaving Dean and Cassandra alone downstairs.

"Why don't I get you some fresh clothes so you can sleep? Also, I don't think you want Bobby seeing you shirtless," Dean suggested with a chuckle. Cassandra nodded and sent him a thankful smile, watching as he ascended up the stairs to what was probably his designated room at the older Hunter's house. The blonde glanced around the room and if she weren't in such pain and injured then she'd probably get up and walk around the room and touch everything in curiosity.

A minute or two later Dean entered the room with one of his flannel shirts in hand. "I just realized that none of my pants have a drawstring of any type so they'd just fall right down since you're so thin. I hope that's alright." Cassandra nodded and held the shirt out in front of her to study it.

"Yeah. It's long enough anyways." She rubbed the fabric between two fingers and grinned. "And soft. I think I'll be warm enough in it," the blonde told him, referring to how easily she would get cold. Dean nodded and watched as she unbuttoned it, slowly sliding her arms through the sleeves and wincing from her movements. The alcohol was starting to wear off, giving her the idea that she was only buzzed, not drunk. She fumbled with the buttons but managed to connect them correctly before standing up.

Dean let the Nephilim use him as a crutch as she slid off her jeans, the denim and blood sticking to her legs as she struggling to peel them off. She managed to get them down to her knees before shimmying them the rest of the way down and kicking them aside. Dean glanced down at her legs. The flannel ended mid-thigh.

"There," Cassandra muttered. She went to bend down and pick up the torn jeans but stopped, cringing in pain and standing back up. "Yep. Not happening." Dean chuckled and swiped them from the floor before grabbing her shredded shirt and tossing them in the trash that sat next to the doorway. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Cassandra flopped back down on the couch and stretched her legs out, letting her head rest against the back cushion. Dean plopped down besides her and let out a deep sigh. She turned her head to look at him, smiling slightly.

"We hated each other in the beginning. That was about three weeks ago." Dean nodded.

"And now I'm stitching you up, seeing you shirtless, and you're wearing one of my flannels. I'd call that progress," he replied with a wink. Cassandra threw her head back and laughed.

"If you think you're getting my virginity then you're dead wrong."

"Hey, woah! I know I'm all for one night stands but if we're gonna be stuck with each other then I won't do that to you. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Cassy." Dean nudged her side with a grin. She rolled her eyes playfully, nodding.

"And you're lucky I haven't smacked you yet. Cassy is a nickname reserved for special people. You've managed to get away with it," Cassandra told him. Dean pursed his lips in thought and turned his body fully to face the blonde.

"So I am special," he teased.

"Don't push it, Winchester."

"Whatever you say, Princess." They smiled at each other before Cassandra tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow challengingly. "What?"

"I'm gonna ruin this small moment we're having." Dean groaned and threw his head back.

"Why?" he whined, hitting the sofa once. Cassandra chuckled. "It was nice. Got my mind off things." She nodded, licking her lips.

"And I'm gonna get your mind back on things. I promise I'll make it worth it in the end." Dean sighed but nodded, gesturing for her to continue. "The scar on your shoulder. How'd you get it?" Dean glanced away, almost embarrassed. "I told you about my scars, you tell me about yours." Dean nodded. It was only fair. Cassandra had opened up to him in the past few hours more than she had opened up to Sam in the week that she was with the brothers.

"They're from Castiel." Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "It's from when he pulled me from Hell." She nodded slowly, her mouth forming an 'O' shape.

"That's why you've sided with an angel. I get it now. He's not your pet, he's your savior. I'm gonna be completely honest for a moment and say that I really thought you were secret lovers." A scowl etched its way onto Dean's lips and he narrowed his piercing green eyes at her. She only shrugged innocently.

"How drunk are you?" Cassandra squinted her eyes, pursing her lips in thought. She shrugged.

"Just slightly buzzed. I swear. But I will happily accept more whiskey from you if you make it possible." Dean shook his head.

"Uh-uh. Your 'buzzed' comments are weird enough," he replied, air-quoting the third word. Cassandra snickered and let out a sigh. "But yeah, Cas pulled me from Hell. He basically said that it wasn't my time to die yet."

"And how long were you in Hell?"

"Four months which feels like forty years down there." Cassandra nodded slowly, processing this information. No wonder why he was so rough on her physically in the beginning. He had been out of Hell for just under a year. "I did things during my time downstairs," Dean admitted quietly. A frown snuck its way onto Cassandra's lips and she reached out without thinking, placing her hand on his knee.

"Dean, it's Hell. I'm guessing there was torture." He nodded in confirmation. "You had to give in sometime. I know I wouldn't have been able to last long. You've seen how I am." Dean sighed and shook his head, looking up into her eyes.

"No, Cassy, you don't understand. I tortured souls...and I liked it." She didn't flinch away like he thought she would. Her expression didn't falter and she didn't show any sign of shock. It was almost like she expected him to say that.

"I had a feeling," Cassandra said softly. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of how she could know this. He had only told Sam and he didn't even want to. Alastair just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut and Sam would pester Dean until he told him. "The way you had pinned me to the ground when I tried escaping and the look in your eyes..." she trailed off and Dean let out a sigh.

"You think I'm a monster," Dean muttered, his gaze shifting down to his lap. Cassandra's heart lurched at the sight. Dean looked like a kicked puppy or a child scolded for something he didn't do. She couldn't bear the sight any longer.

"I think you're human." Dean's gaze snapped up to her, eyes wide with shock. Dean had thought of a million different answers she could've given him in those three seconds, but she gave him the one he was never expecting. "There are people who take pleasure in pain because it's almost like revenge for something. Even if the reason was decades old, once their mind was set on it there was no turning back. You killed the thing that killed your mom and Jess, but you never got your vengeance for your father because he was taken willingly," she explained.

"You'd make a great therapist." Cassandra smiled slightly.

"I know," she whispered. She scooted closer to Dean and patted his knee once. "You're not a monster, Dean Winchester. You've just let darkness inside that you can't get rid of and that's okay. We all have that darkness."

"How do you get rid of it?" Dean's voice wavered and Cassandra swore that he was about to cry. She didn't know why he was confiding in her, a girl he didn't truly know. Perhaps it was the alcohol he had drowned himself in earlier; maybe it was the fact that he felt empty without his brother; or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that he had been missing Cassandra the two weeks she was gone and he desperately wanted her to stay.

"Once you let the darkness inside it never comes out." Dean looked away in shame. "But that doesn't mean you can't learn to embrace it. I have been introduced to the darkest parts of the world in just three weeks, myself apart of it, and I'm trying to control my abilities and embrace the power that comes with being a Nephilim. Embrace the darkness that comes with being a Hunter and I promise you that you'll feel better about who you are and what you do." As Cassandra spoke her voice grew softer and she inched closer to Dean.

"You act as if you've seen it happen before," Dean mumbled. Cassandra shrugged, her gaze drifting down to Dean's lips. They weren't chapped as they had been when she had first met him. They had healed and looked soft and warm and inviting.

"Maybe I have. I've seen a lot in my twenty-six years. I know a thing or two." Without thinking or even asking for permission, Dean reached forward and cupped her cheek in his hand, pulling Cassandra closer to him. He locked lips with her before she could react. He expected her to push him away; to scream and get mad; to scold him for taking another first from her. But instead she had surprised him for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Cassandra kissed back.

Her hand snaked around his neck and she closed her eyes, letting Dean take control since he obviously knew what he was doing. He was more experienced and she knew it.

She could taste the bourbon that he had been drinking before she arrived on his lips, the taste stronger once he ran his tongue over her lower lip. Cassandra enjoyed that taste. She parted her lips and let him do what he wanted.

Dean leaned forward, pushing her back onto the couch gently without ever pulling away. His hands were on either side of her, propping himself up so that he didn't crush the petite girl with his weight. She didn't flinch away when his hands slipped under the flannel that covered her torso and she didn't protest when he ran his fingers over the scars. She had surprised them both that night.

Dean kissed the corner of her mouth before moving down to her jawline, peppering light kisses down her neck. Cassandra turned her head to the side to give him better access as her hands ran through his hair. It was almost as soft as his lips. She breathed in deeply when he nipped at her collarbone, her eyes flying open at the sharp pleasure that shot through her. Dean recognized the feeling on her face and smirked.

His index finger traced the scars on her stomach and she could feel it, her stomach tensing as he did so. Dean leaned forward, his lips resting on her ear. "You're not a monster," he whispered, nipping at the bottom of her earlobe. Cassandra gasped and turned her head to look up at him.

"Neither are you," she mumbled, leaning up and planting another kiss on his lips despite the pain from the stitches screaming at her to stop. She ignored it, knowing that the moment would be over by morning and it'd be long forgotten by the end of the week, the month at the latest. Dean had more important things to worry about than a girl. Besides, he had made it clear weeks before that Hunters don't get into relationships. It's too dangerous for them and everyone around them.

After a few more minutes of continuing what they had, Cassandra pulled away when his fingers brushed over her underwear. "We should stop," she said clearly against his lips. Dean pulled away and stared down at her, searching her eyes for something, before nodding.

"Okay," he agreed. Cassandra's eyes fluttered closed and she breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Dean had complied so easily. She didn't want to ruin things between them if she was going to stick around and she knew that Dean didn't either. They needed everything to go as smooth as possible.

Dean got up from the couch and grabbed a blanket that had been draped over the back of a chair, bringing it over to Cassandra. He laid it out over her body before smoothing her wild blonde hair back and leaning down, placing a single kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm gonna be sleeping upstairs." Dean turned to leave when Cassandra's arm shot out, grabbing his wrist. He furrowed his eyebrows and turned to look at her.

"I know this is gonna sound really needy, but I'm still not warded and I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you slept down here," the Nephilim told him, her voice shaking as she spoke. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, anxiety gnawing at the pit of her stomach as she waited for his reply. Dean glanced back at the stairs before returning his gaze to her, nodding.

"Okay. I'll stay down here." Cassandra relaxed under the covers slightly. She had been afraid that Dean would deny her request or even laugh in her face. Kissing him was one thing, asking him to stay downstairs with her was something else entirely. "So there's this neat little trick—" Dean cut himself off, flipping up the footrests of the couch. Cassandra yelped then giggled when she lurched forward, her arms shooting out and grabbing the cushions for balance and stability. Dean climbed onto the couch and laid behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso upon noticing her shivering. "It's not even that cold," he had whispered in her ear.

"I'm always cold."

"That's because you keep losing weight," Dean retorted. "When was the last time you ate?" Cassandra shrugged.

"I snacked on my journey down Interstate four-sixty-five," she replied. Dean chuckled and shook his head, tightening his grasp around her. He slid his leg between hers so that he could bend his knee comfortably. "What's Bobby gonna think when he wakes up and sees this?"

"Does it matter what Bobby thinks?"

"He doesn't know me," Cassandra argued. Dean sighed and shrugged, nuzzling his face into her neck. She giggled and shrugged her shoulder at his warm breath, kicking her leg slightly. Dean grinned at her reaction.

"Don't tell me you're ticklish."

"I can't help it!" He laughed and shook his head, his hands snaking to her sides and tickling them. Cassandra giggled more before biting her lip and stopping herself. She forced the laughter back. "I'm not warded, Dean, stop it," she scolded between her fits of escaped giggles. Dean sighed and reluctantly pulled his hands away from her sides.

"We need Cas to re-ward you pronto. The last thing we need is an angel or demon bursting through the door and seeing you in just my flannel." Cassandra bit her lower lip and turned her head to look at Dean. He smiled and leaned forward, pecking a kiss on her lips. "Go to sleep."

"You're happy," she commented. "I like you better happy."

"Stop acting like a chick-flick and sleep. You need rest." Dean's tone was playful but she knew he was serious. Cassandra snickered and nodded, turning her head back to face the wall across from the couch. She continued to smile until she fell asleep. Dean Winchester, the man who had been rough in the beginning and tackled and bruised her for trying to escape, was sweet and had a soft, loving side to him and he chose to share it with Cassandra.

Secretly, Dean enjoyed this moment between the two, but he knew that if they grew too close then it wouldn't end well. Something would take one from the other and all hell would break loose. If only the couple knew what the next two days would bring them....

And the Dessandra kiss finally happened! It's about time. But don't get too excited. The ship hasn't exactly sailed yet. ;)

And did Dean really just open up about Hell to someone besides Sammy? 😱 Cassandra also opened up a bit for the first time. It seems they've found some trust in each other. It might not last long, though.