A/N: I started this story about six years ago and originally published a few chapters under my original username of Mauveine. Unfortunately, I stopped posting in about 2010 and I no longer remember my email information from that long ago. And while 6 years is a long time for a muse to be absent, she has returned and I wanted to continue the story. So, if this seems familiar, it will be at least at first. This takes place during Season 4. I do not own anything associated with Supernatural. Just my OC.

The winter here's cold and bitter

It's chilled us to the bone

I haven't seen the sun in weeks

Too long, too far from home

I feel just like I'm sinking

And I claw for solid ground

I'm pulled down by the undertow

Never thought I could feel so low

Oh darkness, I feel like letting go

~Sarah McLachlan – Full of Grace

It was raining in a way she could only imagine people would describe as raining cats and dogs, although she had never fully understood the meaning behind that saying. Why people couldn't just say it was pouring was beyond her understanding. She stood beside the window, her eyes following the trail a raindrop left on the glass, before it too disappeared from her line of vision. She looked back up, out into the vast darkness surrounding her. Her eyes searching for any speck of light. She was looking for something, anything, that would alert her to his presence. Looking for something that would ease the pain and fear in her heart that he wasn't coming back.

She reached up, lightly touching the glass, the tip of her finger tracing the line of another drop of rain, the sound of her nail lightly scraping against the glass creating an eerie sound that pierced through the silence of the room. A clap of thunder shook the cabin, and with a weak flicker, the lights lost their battle to stay on, plunging the room into complete darkness. She let out a sigh as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a lighter. Using the light of the flame, she walked over to the nearby table and lit the candle sitting on it. Its meager light barely cut through the dark, and she found herself reaching for her weapon tucked into the waist of her jeans. At this point in her life, it had become the ultimate safety net, the only thing she could rely on to protect herself. Although, that was probably a naïve way to think about it all.

She carried the candle to the window, setting it on the ledge as she sat in a rickety chair. She would keep her vigil; she would keep her look out. She had promised him that she would be there when he needed her, and although she knew she had left a hunt unfinished, leaving people's lives in danger, she couldn't tell him that she didn't have the time to meet him. She only hoped that he would make it through everything alive, in one piece. If not in mind, in body.

She knew he was broken, in many ways. She knew his soul was shattered and that he wasn't sure he could continue on with the life he led. She knew he understood the task that was before him and what he would ultimately have to do. She knew that he felt responsible for every bad thing that was happening in the world and that, because of that knowledge, he felt like a fractured human being, unworthy of anything and unnecessary to anyone. What he failed to acknowledge was that the world was depending on him; she was depending on him.

She loved him, although she had never told him as much. They had been a release for one another on more than one occasion, and were both there for the other when there was an itch that needed to be scratched, and yet she wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms, to protect him, to take away his pain and let him know that he was loved, completely and unequivocally. She would die for him. She would sacrifice for him. She would do anything he asked of her without question or thought. On some level that frightened her, and yet whenever he was around, the fear didn't matter. Nothing did.

She hadn't seen him since he had returned from hell, her only interactions with him being through quick telephone calls, infrequent text messages, and voicemails that were more silence than actual voice. It was because of that she was as shocked as she was that he had asked to see her. She had known something was wrong the moment she answered the phone. His voice had been filled with so much pain, sorrow, and a hint that he was close to breaking down and giving up. She had never heard him sound so utterly dejected, and she wasn't sure what to expect when she saw him. Add onto the fact that he had been in hell and back since their last meeting, she was nervous and unsure of what to expect.

A low rumbling broke through her thoughts as she sat up straighter in the chair, her eyes darting to look out the window. In the distance, she could see two small lights moving towards her, which she knew were the lights of the Impala. She stood, making her way towards the door, her steps light and hesitant. She took a deep breath, leaning her head against the wood of the door, her eyes closed and her hand barely touching the doorknob. Saying a quiet prayer, something that was becoming more frequent, she opened her eyes and opened the door, her gaze falling on the Impala as it pulled up in front of the rundown cabin. Holding her breath, she watched the car intensely, afraid to move, as the driver's side door opened.

He stepped out of the car, pausing with the door open, the rain drenching him as he stood there, unable to move. She realized she was barely breathing as she looked him over, head to toe. With unsure steps, she slowly began to walk towards him, her eyes never leaving his. It seemed like forever before she reached him, her tears merging with the rain. She stopped about a foot in front of him, her eyes searching his for some kind of acknowledgement, something that told her that he needed her, that he was happy to see her. Instead, she found pain, uncertainty, anger, and above all sorrow. He stepped closer, his hand reaching up to tentatively brush against her cheek, as if he feared she wasn't real, that she would somehow disappear if he touched her. She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as his hand moved to fully cup her cheek. Her heart soared at his touch, and with a sigh she felt all of her fear and tension wash out of her body.

She opened her eyes and looked into his, amazed, as always, with his beauty. She was relieved that he looked like himself. Hardened maybe, but relatively unchanged. Somehow she had feared that he wouldn't be the same, that hell would have disfigured him in some way. Silly, she knew, as only his soul had been in hell, yet it had been flittering through her mind ever since she had learned of his resurrection. Her eyes fell to his lips as he leaned in towards her, before moving back to meet his eyes; his lips touching hers gently.

With a soft moan, she closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, her arms winding around his neck, latching his body to hers. He attempted to pull her closer to him, his hands in her hair, as he clutched onto her as if she were his only lifeline. She could taste the salt of her tears, or perhaps they were his, as their tongues moved against one another, and it was as if the rest of the world disappeared. They were no longer standing in the middle of nowhere, in a field that had long since turned to mud. There wasn't the constant threat of a demon attack, of another seal being broken. No, instead, they were somewhere peaceful, where nothing could harm them, and the reality of life didn't exist. Yet, deep down, she knew and acknowledged that the moment he pulled away from her, everything would come crashing back down upon them. Nevertheless, for this one moment, this one fleeting moment, she would let her mind dream and she would forget about what was going on around them. He pulled away slowly, and she felt a staggering loss of warmth. Wanting to cry out from the loss, she slowly opened her eyes.

"I missed you," he said softly, pushing a piece of wet hair off her forehead. She closed her eyes against the pain as she tried to come up with some answer to that admission. Nothing she said would be able to express what she had felt while he had been gone.

"I…" she trailed off, and unable to stop herself, she pulled him back into another kiss, hoping that somehow he would understand what she was trying to say. She pulled away, her eyes still closed, and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. "I missed you more than I could ever begin to explain to you," she whispered.

"Aeron…" his voice faded away, breaking slightly. She pulled away from him, nodding slowly, hoping that it conveyed her understanding of his feelings.

"Dean, come inside," she said softly, her hands running down his arms, before grasping his, pulling him towards the cabin. "We'll dry off, warm up, and talk."

She led him into the cabin, knowing that she would have to be patient and allow him to open up to her on his own. He would tell her eventually what he needed her to do, how should could help him. And she hoped that she would make him understand how she really felt. She would do anything for Dean Winchester. She would kill for Dean Winchester. She would steal for Dean Winchester, and above all, she would die for Dean Winchester.