A/N: Now what on earth could this be? A multi-chaper Sartha fic? YES! IT IS! Read and enjoy (and review, if you feel like it). Also, cookies to anyone who knows where the title comes from. Appearances aside, it's not porn (sorry if that's what you were hoping for).

It was just another hunt, really. At least, it should have been, until that British chick showed up.

The boys were in Rhinelander, Wisconsin (No, not hunting Hodags, although they had met a guy who'd killed one a few years back), where there had been several disappearances in recent weeks. The victims' bodies had all been found days later with obvious signs of brutal torturing before death. Despite Sam's insistence that it could be some utterly unsupernatural whackjob behind this, Dean was adamant.

"There's something more going on here, Sammy. I can feel it in my gut."

"Are you sure that's not just the four brats you had earlier?" Sam quipped as they walked back to their motel.

"We are in Wisconsin, Sam. You don't just turn down an offer of free bratwurst. And anyway, that's not the point. Look, all these victims," Dean pulled out the files they'd "borrowed" from the police earlier while impersonating the FBI. "they have nothing in common. Middle-aged white guy, Asian teenage girl, lady in her thirties, who's a total MILF, by the way-"

"Dean!" Sam pulled bitchface #17 (that's totally inappropriate and not what we're talking about)

"Sorry. Anyway, there's nothing."

Sam nodded.

"I know. I'm the one who did all the research, remember?"

"Yeah, but you are the geek one, after all." Dean said, grinning cheekily.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam and Dean strolled into the hospital the next day, suits donned and FBI badges ready to flash. A fourth body had turned up in an abandoned warehouse that morning, same horrific circumstances as the others, and they decided to take a look. These plans were averted, however, by a young woman who seemed to be after the same thing.

As the two brothers strolled up to the reception desk, they overheard an odd conversation.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't let you into the morgue without proper clearance." said a plump, kindly nurse behind the desk.

"You have my credentials." the other woman retorted in an English accent, her voice ringing with authority and professionalism. "U.N.I.T. has clearance on par with every government institution in the country, including Homeland Security and the CIA. Phone my supervisor if you don't believe me."

"I'm afraid you'll have to take this up with the hospital's administrator." the nurse said apologetically. The Brit sighed with exasperation, but politely thanked the woman for her time and turned to walk away.

Sam and Dean were about to take their turn at the desk when the woman who had been ahead of them stopped dead, directly in the taller Winchester's path.

"Excuse me," Sam muttered as he tried to go around her, but a hand shot out of nowhere and, with a surprisingly strong grip, turned him to face her.

Sam took a good look at the mystery British woman for the first time. She was beautiful, there was no denying that; large, intelligent eyes gazed up at him above an adorable button nose and full, soft-looking lips that were parted in shock, all of it molded from perfect skin like liquid chocolate. Her doe eyes were wide and seemed to be filled with tears. She gasped raggedly and a whispered "Oh, my God." passed through her lips.

Sam gave her a confused half-smile.

"Um… excuse me? Can I help you with something?"

Still she said nothing, but continued to gaze at him as if seeing the ghost of a dead lover. Dean eyed the two of them, as befuddled as his brother.

"Right…" Sam started to awkwardly pull away from the woman. "I'll just-"

"No!" she said suddenly. "Oh, God, just… Sam, I-" She put a hand over her mouth as tears began to run down her face.

Both brothers were visibly startled at her use of Sam's name, but before either one could say anything, the dark-skinned beauty turned and fled.

"Wait!" Sam shouted after her. "Do I know you? Stop!" He glanced back at Dean, who made a shooing motion and hissed "Go!"

Sam needed no further encouragement, and his long legs carried him swiftly out the doors.

"Well, I guess this trip's shot to hell." Dean muttered, then glanced at the flabbergasted nurse. "Thanks for your time." he said with a charming smile, before following his brother out of the building.

It took Sam a lot more effort than he expected to catch up with the Englishwoman; she was clearly accustomed to running evasively. He reached her, however, as she was struggling to unlock her car with shaking hands.

"Wait!" Sam said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She gasped and tensed up, gripping the handle of the still-locked car door as if physically restraining herself from turning around.

"Who are you?" the Hunter asked, moving around to lean on her car, both so he could face her and to prevent her from running away again. "Have we met?" The woman let out a shaky laugh.

"Believe me, mate, we've met."

Sam's face scrunched up in concern, and his companion bit her lip and looked away, once again blinking back tears.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "I really don't remember who you are. If I've done something to hurt you-" she gave another humorless chuckle.

"You could never hurt me, Sam Winchester."

Sam only looked more confused, and a little bit sad.

"Could you just tell me who you are? Maybe I'll remember something…" She shook her head and took a deep breath, composing herself like a pro.

"My name's Martha. Martha Jones."

Dean jogged down the street until his brother was in sight, then slowed down and watched for a minute. Sam and British Chick (who was pretty hot, he noted) seemed to be engaged in some sort of intense staring contest. It looked like they were having a 'moment'. Dean was at a loss as to what to do, so he did the only thing any reasonable older brother could do in a situation like this; he obnoxiously interrupted.

Sam just looked at Martha for several long seconds. She didn't look familiar, but… there was something in him that wanted her to, like a part of his soul cared for this woman and wished to stay with her and never leave. It was absurd, he knew, and yet…

"Hey, Sammy! You gonna introduce me to your friend?" Dean skidded to a halt next to his brother, beaming, then looked at Martha and turned on the 'hey-look-how-sexy-I-am' smolder that never failed to infuriate Sam. "Hi. I'm-"

"Dean." she finished for him. The man's jaw dropped in shock.

"Uh," he huffed a nervous laugh. "Yeah, how did you-"

Sam's eyes widened with a sudden thought.

"Hey," he pushed his brother out of the way and leaned down a bit to fully face Martha. Lowering his voice, he asked "Are you a psychic?"

She smiled softly.

"No, nothing like that. I'm Martha, by the way." she introduced herself to Dean, shaking his hand firmly, before turning back to Sam.

"Is there somewhere we could talk privately?" Martha asked him, still clearly a bit unnerved. "I suppose I have a lot to explain to you both."

The boys led Martha into their motel room, and Dean reached into his duffle bag. He pulled out a silver knife and turned to their guest.

"Now, I'm not gonna hurt you, but we just need to-"

Martha rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I know the drill." she held out her hand for the blade and Dean handed it to her warily. "I'm not a shape-shifter or a demon, but if it makes you feel better…" She made a small cut on her forearm and, without so much as a glance at either of the Hunters, reached into the bag and extracted the salt and holy water. With a practiced hand, Martha grabbed a glass from the kitchenette and mixed the two, making a face as she downed the contents of the cup.

"Alright," said Dean. "So you're a Hunter."

"Not exactly. Sit down, please. This could take a while."

Dean started to grumble something about being told to sit down in his own hotel room, but Sam quieted him with a glance at sat on the edge of one of the beds. Martha took a seat on the other, facing them.

"Why did you run away?" Sam inquired. Martha sighed.

"I was just shocked, I suppose."

Sam looked like he was about to question her further, but his brother cut in before he could.

"More importantly, how do you know who we are?" Dean asked in the tone of a cop interrogating an uncooperative suspect. If Martha noticed the rudeness, she chose to ignore it.

"This is going to sound completely mad, I know, but please just listen." The brothers nodded. "Time was reversed, so no one remembers it now, but there was a year, a Year-that-Never-Was…" Thus, Martha Jones began her story for the first time in more than a year-and-a-half.

The Doctor. The Master. The Toclafane. It was familiar, the routine, and as she talked her mind wandered back to the last time she had given the speech...

In an over-crowded house in England, her audience knew her to be a legend. She had never asked for this status, and to be honest, she didn't want it. Regardless, Martha did what she had to do. As much as she didn't feel worthy, the fate of the world rested with her.

"He has saved your lives so many times, and you never even knew he was there." As she neared the end of her tale, Martha realized she wasn't talking about the Doctor anymore, not really.

"I've seen him. I know him." Instead, her thoughts were on a tall, long-haired American whom Martha thought she would never see again.

"I love him."

"Wait, wait, wait. Aliens?" Dean interrupted. "Really? Aliens?" Disbelief was etched across his face.

"Like you've never seen anything stranger," she said, giving him what was almost a perfect imitation of Sam's bitchface (although on a pretty girl Dean found it much less annoying).

"She has a point, Dean." Sam told his brother. "Let's at least hear her out."

Martha beamed, and Dean noticed that she seemed unable to keep her eyes off of his little brother for more than ten seconds.

"I walked all across the world, telling everyone I met my story. Some of them were as skeptical as you are, Dean, but in that time skepticism was hard to hold onto. When I made it to America, I met Sam. He was trying to fight off some Spheres, and I told him about where they came from and how to avoid them. He taught me about the supernatural, too. There were still some pretty nasty things running around in the dark, after all. He-you, Sam, traveled with me across the continent as I spread the word of the Doctor, doing a little Hunting when we ran into something evil we could kill."

"Hold on," Dean cut Martha off once again. "Where was I?"

Martha's eyes filled with something akin to pity.

"You were in Hell, Dean."

Both Winchesters paled.

"What?"

"Oh, maybe that got erased as well! You'd made a deal with a demon…" Martha's face brightened, then fell once again as both men shook their heads.

"No, that's still reality," said Dean bitterly. Sam looked hesitant for a moment.

"If you don't mind me asking, Martha, what happened? To Dean, I mean, in this… 'Year-That-Never-Was'?"

"Sam," Dean said warningly.

"Don't give me that, Dean. You want to know as much as I do."

"No, to be perfectly honest, I don't. I've died enough times as it is. I have no desire to hear about another one."

"The Toclafane." Martha said. "There was one after Sam, but you… You died saving your brother, if that helps."

And it did. Dean shut his cake-hole, and let Martha finish her story.

"Sam stayed with me, all the way to Japan, if you can believe it. Even with so much terror and destruction going on, it was beautiful. We walked in the mountains, and you loved it, Sam." she smiled sadly, remembering.

"Yeah," Sam locked gazes with her and whispered "I bet I did."

Dean looked back and forth between the other two, once again with the feeling of being a third wheel. The sappy eyesex got to be too much for him, and he coughed awkwardly.

"So, uh, what happened next?"

Sam and Martha snapped out of whatever kind of weird trance they'd been in and looked at Dean. This was one painful story, if Martha looking like she was about to cry every two minutes was anything to go by.

"I… was the only one to make it out of Japan. I'm sorry, I really don't want to talk about it." She blinked back her tears and put on a brave face, and Dean had to admit that she was strong.

"So, we were both dead?" Sam asked.

"Hey, nothing new there, right?" Dean said in a joking manner. "Alright, so, Marty." Martha gave a small smile at the nickname. "That has got to be the most well-thought out… load of crap I have ever heard."

The woman's face fell.

"You don't believe me?"

"Well," Dean chuckled. "I mean, come on. Aliens? Time travel? Flying balls of death? I've got to admit, you did your homework on us, but all this is just a little too hard to believe." The laughter was gone from Dean's tone now.

Martha stood and faced the Hunter, glaring at him with those dark eyes which just a few moments ago were swimming in pain and heartbreak.

"You listen to me, Dean Winchester." she stepped closer, until she was right up in his personal space. The woman was a couple of inches shorter than he, but the aura of righteous anger surrounding her made Martha Jones seem twice as tall. In that moment, she was every bit the soldier Dean was. "I don't care if you've been to Hell and back. I have seen things you couldn't imagine. I could tell you stories that would turn your world upside down. You know better than anyone that most people's perception of the universe is only a tiny fraction of what's out there. So don't. You. Call. Me. A liar."

Dean's eyes widened, and he fought the urge to step back. He knew he'd been right about the strength in this woman; he saw it in her eyes. What he didn't see in her eyes was a lie. Maybe she could be telling the truth, he thought to himself.

"Enough, Dean." Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his brother looking down at him.

"C'mon, Sam. Do you actually believe all this? It's crazy."

"Crazy is kind of what we do."

"Yeah, but, I mean…" Dean looked back and forth with exasperation.

"Anyway, I have an idea of how we can prove it." Sam announced.

Martha looked surprised.

"Prove it? Time was reversed. Everything was undone and no one but my family, the Doctor, and I remembers."

Sam smirked.

"Actually," he said, looking slyly at Dean, "I think we might know someone else who could back you up."

"What?" his brother asked. "Who?"

Sam gave Dean that look again, and Dean seriously considered smacking him upside the head.

"Cas."