Chelsea was relaxed in the backseat of Baby as they cruised down the highway. It had been several months since the Amara situation had been resolved, as well as since Mary told Sam and Dean that she needed some time alone. Sam wanted to give her space and some time to adjust, but Dean had been brooding over it a bit. Thankfully, Chelsea was there to distract him, although it did put some strain on their newfound whatever they were. Were they in a relationship? Or were they simply friends with benefits? Honestly, at times, Chelsea had no clue. What she did know, however, was that she was happy to spend time with him.

Sam, Dean, and Chelsea were on their way to a suburb just outside Cincinnati, Ohio. Several people had claimed to see and hear various objects around their homes randomly start talking and singing, including a mailbox. They also claimed to see several brightly colored dogs wandering the neighborhood. Police didn't bother to look into the sightings, although they did manage to make the local paper. Sam and Dean had mused that it could be the work of a trickster, but Chelsea reminded them that it easily could be another antichrist. The Winchesters had been less than thrilled at the prospect.

Since becoming a true-blue hunter, Dean had gotten a little over-protective and started limiting Chelsea to almost nothing but salt-and burns. It was frustrating, to say the least. So, when Chelsea stumbled upon the potential case just the day before, she was more than excited to check it out. Dean dismissed it, saying it was "just something in the water. Sam, on the other hand, argued that they had gone on less and worked weirder circumstances in the past. So, majority vote won out, leading the trio to Ohio.

When they arrived at the motel, everyone quickly changed into their fed suits and headed out to interview the supposed witnesses. Sam suggested that they split up to cover more ground, which Dean immediately countered, stating that he and Chelsea would take one side of the neighborhood while Sam took the other. Sam quirked an eyebrow at his brother and glanced at Chelsea in questioning. Chelsea let out an annoyed sigh and shook her head. Sam shrugged and headed in the opposite direction of his brother and Chelsea.

Once again, Dean made Chelsea take the backseat on the case, even though she's the one who found it. Every house they went to, Dean addressed her as an "intern" or "agent in training" instead of "partner" like he did Sam. After the third house, enough was enough. The hunters thanked the homeowners for their time and headed down to the Impala as Dean prattled on about the interviews.

"Ya know, I've seen a lot of things but French, talking salt and pepper shakers has gotta be—Oomph!" Before Dean could finish his thought, Chelsea shoved him into the passenger side of Baby, pinning him between her and the car. "Uh, Chels… I, uh, I'm all for the dominance but right now might not be the best—"

"Shut. Up."

Dean frowned, pulling back from her slightly. Chelsea was fuming, and her expression was a dangerous one. Dean recognized it immediately and knew he was in trouble, but for what he did not know.

"Enough is enough, Dean. Every case we have worked since getting back from dealing with that psycho "Men of Letters" lady, you have railroaded me. You haven't let me work a single case alone, and you keep coddling me on milk runs!"

"What? No, I haven't!" Dean denied.

"Yes, you have! Hell, you did today in every single interview! An "agent-in-training"? Seriously?! I'm not a child, dammit!" Chelsea half-shouted.

"I know you're not!" Dean shouted back.

"Then stop treating me like one!" Chelsea roared, giving him a small shove. "I'm not broken and sick anymore, Dean! I don't need you mothering me every time there's a case. Especially since I seem to keep saving your ass on these hunts!"

"Hold on, hold on… You haven't been 'saving my ass'—"

"Oh, really? Who was it that stopped that vengeful spirit in Topeka from ripping you to shreds, Dean? Or figured out that it was the wife's aunt killing people in Little Rock, not the uncle? Or, how about—"

"Alright, alright. I get it. You may have… helped us out in a few tight situations," Dean dismissed, hands raised defensively.

"HELPED!?" Chelsea asked incredulously, "Dammit, Dean, I have more than proven myself! Stop fucking treating me the way you treated Jo!"

Dean's angry expression swiftly went away only to be replaced by an unreadable one. His jaw was set and ticking, however. Chelsea knew she hit a sensitive nerve, but frankly, she didn't care.

"After Amara got taken care of and we became whatever the fuck we are, I thought things would be a little different. But you're still acting like this is a dictatorship! If this is how things are gonna be between us, then I don't want it!"

"Then what do you want," Dean asked with a quietly. He stared at her intensely, a wave of quiet anger raging behind familiar green eyes. It was enough to unnerve anyone when Dean got like this, but Chelsea was not one to back down, especially not to the older Winchester.

"What I want is a little trust and respect, Dean. I want a damn partnership. To be treated equally, not like some damsel in distress who still needs saving!" Chelsea answered angrily, "I used to need saving Dean, but I'm not that girl anymore! So, you need to decide how you're gonna act and what it's gonna be like between us."

Chelsea pushed off the older hunter and stormed away. Dean shut his eyes and tried to keep his temper under control. Her comment about Jo had hit a nerve, and he was trying hard not to let it show. After a moment, Dean let out a heavy breath through his nose and turned towards the direction where Chelsea was headed.

"Where do you think you're going, Chels?" he called.

Chelsea turned around, lips pursed, and fists clenched, "To the motel, alone, away from my handler. How about you handle the other interviews alone since I'm just your trainee, hmm?" With that, Chelsea turned around again and continued down the street, leaving Dean alone.

Sam waltzed into the motel room a few hours later to find a very tired-looking Chelsea pouring over research. Dean was nowhere to be seen, leaving Sam to question his brother's whereabouts.

"Hey."

"Hey," Chelsea greeted pathetically.

"Where's Dean?"

"I told him to do the interviews alone. We had a fight," Chelsea answered groggily as she leaned back in her chair and pushed the laptop away.

"What happened now?" Sam asked as he took off his suit jacket.

Chelsea let out an exasperated sigh and flung her arms out, "It's been almost a year since I got here. Chuck healed me of all my health problems almost five months ago, and I've been hunting ever since. I've more than proven myself, yet he still insists on hand-holding me on hunts. I've saved you both several times now, yet he insists on acting like I'm the one who needs saving."

Sam let out a sigh and sat down across from his friend at the table. Ever since Dean and Chelsea got together, Sam had been admittedly a little worried about them bashing heads. It wasn't that they didn't care for each other, but Chelsea was very high-strung and independent. Dean was bossy and overprotective. Even before becoming an item, the couple clashed a few times.

"Chels… Dean is just worried that something will happen to you. You should know better than anyone that something always happens to the people we care about."

"That doesn't mean he gets to treat me like a child," Chelsea argued, crossing her arms.

"You're right. But that's just how he is, even if he doesn't mean to be," Sam explained as he leaned forward on his elbows. "Dean's had to be the protective, big brother our entire lives. So, being overprotective and obnoxious is just one of the many ways he shows he cares. You just kinda learn to deal with it."

Chelsea let out a frustrated huff and shook her head. Sam looked at her sympathetically. He understood all too well how exasperating Dean's overprotectiveness could be.

"Look, everyone knows that we can't keep you from hunting. You made that clear the moment we met you, and you've been kicking our butts ever since," Sam said with a smile, "Dean just wants to keep you as close as possible in case anything does go wrong on a hunt."

"I get that, Sam, I really do… But, dammit, sometimes it's just so demeaning how he treats me on these cases like I can't be trusted to take care of myself. He keeps stealing my hunts out from under me and won't treat me as his partner. Instead, it feels like I'm his underling and am just there for entertainment…"

Sam watched Chelsea a moment. She looked dejected and disappointed, and Sam couldn't help but feel for her.

"Then… maybe you should give him a taste of his own medicine. See how he likes it," Sam suggested finally.

"Like that really works," Chelsea commented doubtfully.

Sam smirked, "Hey, I've been doing it for years."

He and Chelsea laughed together a bit before being interrupted by the opening of the motel room door. Dean slid inside, notebook in hand, and looked between the two of them. After a moment, Dean shut the door and proceeded to address his younger brother, completely ignoring Chelsea. Chelsea simply rolled her eyes at his antics.

'God, he's such a fucking child…'

"So, I talked to the witnesses and man… This neighborhood is the definition of weird."

"Let me guess, more talking inanimate objects?" Sam asked as he leaned back in his chair.

"Oh, that's an understatement," Dean confirmed as he shrugged off his jacket and got comfortable, "We've got rainbow-colored dogs, a talking clock, talking condiments with heavy French accents… This whole neighborhood has gone insane."

Chelsea furrowed her brow at Dean's comment. Everything seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite figure out why. Her interest piqued, she continued to listen in on the brothers' discussion.

Sam huffed at Dean's comment, "Well, uh, I had a supposedly talking shovel and pail, alarm clock, and a bar of soap. Oh, and get this… Each house? There was a blue pawprint."

"Same."

Suddenly, it was like a lightbulb went off. Chelsea perked up, "Say what now?"

"Uh, yeah. Every house had a blue pawprint on the front door or step."

Chelsea's face split into a huge grin. Sam and Dean looked at each other in questioning, then looked back at her.

"What?" Dean asked with a clipped tone. Sam gave his brother a warning look and shook his head; Chelsea, however, ignored the older Winchester.

"Sam, you had the house with the singing mailbox, right? What did they hear the mailbox say exactly?"

Sam pulled his notes of his pocket and flipped through the pages, "Well… uh… Oh here: Here's the mail, it never fails. It makes me wanna—"

"Wag my tail! When it comes, it wanna wail MAAAAIIIILLLLL!" Chelsea sang happily, further confusing the Winchesters. "C' mon guys… Talking household objects, blue pawprints, and 'Mail Time'?" Chelsea looked between the two men expectantly, but only got blank looks and head shakes.

"It's Blue's Clues!"

More blank looks.

"My God… You two really are deprived…" Chelsea commented with disgust and disappointment.

Dean sighed in annoyance, "What the hell is 'Blue's Clues'?"

Chelsea let out a huff in return, "It's a children's show that was really popular in the late 90s. My dad's best friend had a little girl who was a lot younger than me, and she watched it allllllll the time. I can't even tell you how many times I had that mail song stuck in my head and caught myself humming it."

"So, what, you think a little kid is doing this?" Sam questioned.

"That's exactly what I think. I bet that in the center of all of this there's a preschooler or kindergartner. They probably got their hands on something they shouldn't have," Chelsea stated matter-of-factly.

"Alright, I'll check the school listings and see what I can find."

"Excellent. I'll get a map of the neighborhood."

Chelsea had been right, of course, about the child at the epicenter of it all. As it turned out, a little girl named Ellie Stone just had her great-grandmother pass away a few days before the strange sighting started. Ellie inherited an old locket from her great-grandmother, only it turned out the locket had a spell on it to grant the wearer whatever their heart desired. It ended up being how the great-grandmother had lived to be 108 years old. After having lived such a long life, she simply wanted peace. Ellie's heart's desire, however, was apparently to live like her favorite television show, Blue's Clues. With some sweet talking and promising to eventually return the locket, Chelsea managed to get the object away from the little girl and, with Sam and Dean's help, was able to replicate it and give Ellie back the fake locket. As for the real one, Dean locked it up in one of the spare warded boxes and tucked it away in the bunker, which Sam made a record of.

Dean had to admit, the case had gone exceptionally smooth. Chelsea, once again, proved to be up to snuff and took care of everything in record time. The pair still wasn't really talking, however, even after solving the case. As much as he hated admitting it, Chelsea had more than proven that she doesn't always need him to hold her hand. Sure, she probably wasn't ready to work solo just yet, but Dean couldn't deny it anymore that Chelsea didn't need him to take charge on cases.

Just under a week after returning home, Dean decided it was time to make up. He never could take her staying mad at him for too long. Chelsea was folding her laundry when Dean knocked on her door, she looked up at him, but didn't stop what she was doing.

"Hey."

"Hey."

'Smooth'

"What do you want, Dean?"

"Nothing, just figured we should talk… Since it's been a week."

"Oh? You decided what you want yet?" Chelsea's tone was cold, and she continued to fold her clothes instead of look at him. It threw Dean off a little.

"You were right."

"About?"

Dean was quickly getting frustrated, "About not letting you work your own cases. And making you take the backseat."

Chelsea glanced at the older hunter. She refused to give in easily to him and instead tried to keep up the façade. Chelsea could feel herself faltering, however; she was tired of the cold shoulder treatments and uncertainty. She just wanted to be acknowledged as an equal for once.

Dean took a deep breath; this wasn't easy. "You don't need me babysitting you all the time. You can work hunts just fine. Not quite ready to let you hunt solo but, you're right… I wasn't letting you work. And I wasn't treating you right…"

Chelsea set down the clothes in her hands and continued to watch Dean as he slowly made his way through what he needed to say. Dean wiped his hands on his jeans nervously.

"Look, I care about you… A lot. I—I want to keep you around… With me," he admitted, "But I sure as hell don't want you hurt. Do I like you hunting? No. Do I wanna risk you getting hurt on my watch? Fuck no."

Chelsea turned towards the older hunter and crossed her arms, listening to him talk. At least now she was giving him her full attention.

"This… Look, I've lost a lot. Had a lot of people I've cared about… Women I've cared about—"

"Jo and Lisa…"

Dean visibly stiffened at the second name, "Yeah…"

"Dean," Chelsea slowly walked toward the older hunter, "I'm not them."

"I know."

"I know it's hard for you, but you have got to trust me here. I'm not sick anymore. I can even, sorta, take on Sam in a fight!"

"That's an exaggeration."

"It is not!"

"Really? So, you can lift my 220lb, 6'4" giant of a brother?" Dean questioned with amusement.

"Pfft… Yeah! Of course!"

'LIAR'

"Oh, darlin," Dean drawled, "I can barely lift him. We both know there's no way you can take him down."

"Well," Chelsea cooed as she took another step towards him, almost closing the gap between them, "I know I can take you down."

Dean laughed at that, "Seriously? And how exactly do you intend to do that?"

"Like this…"

Chelsea stood on her tip-toes and pulled Dean's collar down so she could properly kiss him. It was soft and gentle at first, but Dean quickly became unsatisfied with that. Wrapping his arm around her and cupping her face, Dean pulled Chelsea in for a deeper kiss. Chelsea gripped his shoulders tightly as their tongues danced together. Finally, after what felt like a long time and not long enough all at the same time, the pair broke apart to catch their breaths.

Dean hummed in satisfaction, "Have to say, that's very convincing."

"I certainly thought so," Chelsea smiled as he pressed his forehead to hers.

The stood like that a moment, breathing in each other's spaces while Dean held her close. It was nice to once again be in each other's arms. The two of them had gotten so used to being able to be together that a week of no contact ended up being a lot harder than either of them thought.

After a while, Dean spoke up again, "I trust you. I do, sweetheart. I just don't wanna lose you…"

"I know, De… I'm not asking you to cut me loose and let me run alone. I just want you to treat me like we're on the same team, not like I'm your subordinate."

"I know… And I will."

Chelsea smiled and kissed Dean again. She missed feeling those soft, familiar lips every day. Apparently, he felt the same way because he pulled her as close as possible and, once more, kissed her breath away. A few more minutes passed before Dean spoke up again.

"By the way… About that other thing you told me to think about…"

Chelsea watched Dean with interest.

"I think my girl needs to move rooms."