A/N: I'm really sorry for the REALLY LATE UPDATE! But lately I've been really busy with all the stuff I have going on in my life right now, sorry guys. :( Therefore I decided this to be the last chapter of Iria's adventures. Hope you have enjoyed the ride! And thousands of hugs and thanks for reading!

Chapter 7: Do not fuck with Sam. Even if it surely would be really awesome. But really, Sam's lovers die. A lot

I was right about the laundry room, there's one in the hideout. And best part is that it is not far from the bedrooms. So later that day I'm sorting my soiled clothes into piles, and Amy's helping me out. I was already running out of clean clothes; as Amy was popped into this dimension without her suitcase I have lent my clothes to her. And I didn't take many of them with me from my apartment in the beginning.

The laundry room is large, with six outdated but still functional washing machines.

Sam walks in, tailed by Dean, both of them carrying armful of clothes. I see that they don't bother sorting them out but fill the machine with variety of checkered shirts, t-shirts, jeans and underwear. I stuff my clothes in two separate machines and pour detergent into the washing machine. "I can't wait to have clean clothes," I say aloud.

Dean chuckles. "You should've asked about this place earlier, if you were running short. Or I could've loaned you something to wear." Then he pauses. "No, actually I wouldn't," he then continues and grins. "I would've preferred you walking around in scarce clothing."

I throw a pair of socks at him. "You mean you'd preferred me with smelly clothes," I interject.

Amy chuckles and then gives me one odd look. I raise my eyebrow at her and she shrugs. Kind of makes me wonder, whether she notices something different in me; I've been probably rather dreamy ever since this morning when Dean kissed me. I feel flame climbing to my cheeks as I remember that. Gosh, once we're alone in our bedroom, she's going to hear everything about it.

While the washing machines are doing their job we resume to the books once again. And as expected, nothing useful comes up before it's time to go peg the clean clothes. I volunteer for the job – I really need a pause from that awful book.

The laundry room has washing-lines attached to its roof, so I start filling those systematically. After few minutes I hear someone entering the room. I take my time pegging the shirt I had in my hands before turning over.

It's Dean.

He leans to the edge of the door, looking at me intensively, his arms crossed carelessly over his chest. Have I already mentioned that he looks like a freaking male model?

I can hear the blood rushing in my own ears. "Hi," I say to him.

"Hi," he answers, his eyes sparkling with his smile. "You need help? I escaped on that excuse."

I nod. There are a lot of clothes to peg for dry. But he comes to me instead of fetching clothes to hang
up. He stands so near that I can SMELL him and then bends over to brush his lips gently over mine. I wrap my hands around his neck as his hands find their way under my shirt. A small voice in the back of my head tells me to stop as Amy or Sam could easily walk in, but I ignore it – bluntly, I don't care. I prevent him from stripping me, though – I'm so not gonna do anything naughty in a freaking laundry room. I guess Dean understands the hint as he pulls me out of the room (he doesn't stop kissing me, though). Luckily his room is nearby, and it has a lock nn the door.

In the room Dean lets me go only to twist that lock. Then he resumes to me, kissing my neck as he lifts my shirt revealing my bare skin. Chills run through my spine as his hands caress on my back and sides.

I strip him from his blouse and the black t-shirt under it. My hands are much clumsier than his; I don't have that much experience in this kind of stuff as he has. I don't care, though.

Then he opens my bra – wow, singlehandedly, he IS experienced – and I let it drop on the floor. Still kissing me his right hand finds it way over my breast. A gentle squeeze sends thrill though my body and I gasp.

That makes Dean chuckle. "You're pretty when you do that," he whispers into my ear with a gruff voice. I can feel something hard against my belly as he pulls me into a gentle hug.

Holy shit. What am I doing?

I don't have much time to question that as Dean pulls me down to his bed kneeling besides it to open my pants. He pulls them off. So there I lie, wearing only my underpants. My heart is pounding hard and I can feel the pulse between my legs. I'm excited, yet poised. Dean strips off his pants, too, then leaning over me, placing his hands to both sides of me. He is panting as he kisses my breasts, first one then another, my neck and finally my lips. His breath feels hot on my skin and the day-old stubble on his chin scratches the sensitive skin on my neck. "I WANT you," I grunt, my voice hoarse.

He gives me one of those smug smiles of his, and for a second I'm not sure whether I should be offended or not – does he take me for granted? – but I forget every thought like that as he slips his hand inside my panties, between my legs. I sigh with pleasure. That makes him grin wider, though this time there is nothing conceited about his smile. His fingers wonder inside me for a while, exploring. As Dean pulls his fingers off he pulls my panties away, too. "Now we're even," he murmurs to me, "you've seen me naked and I've seen you."

That makes me smile. I think I got the better end of the deal; his body is much more gorgeous than mine. "Not quite," I tell him and grasp the rim of his boxers, pulling them down.

He's stiff. Yet he laughs at me, looking more beautiful than I imagined being possible.

The condom seems to appear out of nowhere and Dean rips the packing open with his teeth. He slips
the rubber over him with accustomed hands then pushes me back down to the bed. Then, with one careful shove, he is inside me. I wrap my hands around his neck and Dean leans down kissing my lips as he starts
moving rhythmically, making me gasp with every push. I raise my head to push my lips against his again, and his tongue finds my own. I bite his lip.

Soon Dean starts grunting and closes his eyes in pleasure. I, too, am getting higher and closer to the point. My back arches and Dean pushes in harder and quickening the pace.

Holy fuck.

A loud sigh of pleasure escapes my lips as I come and my body shivers violently. Just few seconds later Dean cries as he erupts. He slumps over me, panting as heavily as I am. I smile at him and brush his sweaty forehead with my fingers before he rolls off from top of me. Before getting up Dean gives me one more passionate kiss. I sit up, too, even though I feel sleepy. Amy and Sam are probably already wondering where we are. I find myself thinking again, for the first time in a very long time, the "How not to die in Supernatural" –guide I found from tumblr. I chuckle. At least I didn't fuck with Sam.

About twenty minutes and four armfuls of clean laundry later I and Dean walk back to the lobby. I giggle at some pun Dean cracked as Amy reaches my gaze with her own."That took long enough," she says, looking straight into my eyes.

Oh god, she knows, she SO knows. For some reason that makes me giggle girlishly even more. Gosh, I'm acting like a wretched teenager. I don't mind, though, I'm feeling great. Nothing can spoil my good mood. Not even the disapproving glance Sam gives to his older brother. Dean, too, ignores it with a shrug of his shoulders.

xoxoxox

Few more days pass and life in the hideout doesn't really change. Well, except I sleep now with Dean. Amy didn't mind, she just gave me one of those "you go, girl!" -looks as I told her about moving into Dean's rooms. The research part hasn't changed, either, though nothing useful has come up yet. It could be really frustrating if I didn't have better things to do – such as screwing with Dean.

On the morning of tenth day I wake up feeling uneasy. I rub my eyes to get rid of the sleepy feeling. Dean
still breathes deeply next to me, sleeping. I sit up wondering what woke me up this early; the alarm clock on Dean's desk shows that time is only half past six. I don't normally wake up this early. Even the thought makes me yawn.

As I open my eyes Castiel stands next to the bed. A surprised shriek escapes my lips and in that instant Dean jump up a gun in his hand. He looks puzzled as he sees the angel.

"Hello Iria, Dean," Cas says calmly like he wasn't being pointed with a gun – well, I guess it makes a little difference to him. Not before Castiel tilts his head and stares at me intensively I realize I'm half naked,
so I quickly pull the blanket to cover my bare chest. The angel scowls slightly and alters his gaze between me and Dean. "Did I interrupt something?" he then asks.

"Luckily not," Dean sighs putting his gun finally away, "But not cool, Cas. You can't just pop into people's
bedrooms without a knock or something."

"You didn't mind before."

A light red color appears on the other man's cheeks. If I wasn't so drowsy and confused because of Cas' sudden appearance I could be jealous right now – though whatever is between the two men (Can Cas be
referred as a man, I wonder again) was there long before I appeared. Dean gets up – completely naked, I remark – and reaches for his jeans. I can't not notice how the angel's intense gaze follows his every movement – and how Dean seems to be perfectly comfortable with it – and a sudden spike of jealousy stings me again, though I'm telling myself I'm being stupid.

"So, what're you doing in here?" Dean asks fastening his belt.

"Something came up."

"Care to be more specific?"

The angel nods. "You and your brother are needed elsewhere, so I'm taking Iria and her sister back to their own place."

What? No! I'd like to object, but I don't seem to get words out of my mouth. Cas must misunderstand my
shattered expression. "Don't worry; I'll make sure you are being protected."

Dean looks angry. "Cas, you can't do that, man," he says, his voice resembling a snarl, "You can't mess with people's lives like that!"

For a moment Cas looks confused, maybe because of Dean's tone, then he looks at me, again, then Dean. Only then he seems to understand what's been going on in here. "I'm sorry," he finally says, "but it is absolutely necessary." Then he reaches for my forehead with two of his fingers pointed out. I quail back – I really don't want to leave, I want to stay here, with Dean. Despite the demons that want to kill me. And simultaneously Dean tries to push Cas' hand aside. "Don't you dare to do that." His voice is shivering with rage.

"I fear I must," Castiel demands and pushes Dean away from his way as easily as if he was a child.

"Cas, please, don't –" I never hear what Dean intended to say, since I'm back in Amy's apartment.

"No, no, no," I cry into thin air as Castiel is nowhere to be seen. A fragment of a second later Amy stands beside me, still sleepy and looking confused.

"What just happened?" she asks with a drowsy voice.

"He dumped me back in here," I tell her, tears burning in my eyes. This is so unfair.

xoxoxox

Days turn into weeks and my life has returned to the same it was before I was pulled into Supernatural for the first time. Seems that Cas was right about the protection, though; I haven't seen or heard anything
referring to demonic activity (but nowadays I have a custom to carry small bag of salt and a flask filled with holy water with me everywhere I go). The show, also, continues as if I never was in there. I feel offended as the brothers don't even mention me. Amy tells me it's just probably because I didn't appear on the show –
there is lot that is not seen on cameras. I want to believe her and I want to get back so bad it hurts. Even though it feels like twisting a knife in the wound I cannot NOT watch Supernatural as the eighth season continues – I must know they are safe. Well, as safe as they ever can be. Every day I try to convince Castiel to take me back – though I know he's busy protecting the tablet from Naomi – but he never shows up.

On the day of season's finale Amy visits me, telling me that we should watch it together.

As Sam tries to cure Crowley I can't help it, but I burst into tears. "I should be there," I tell Amy. Then
the worst happens. "No, no, no!" I cry as the angels, one by one starting with Castiel, my best hope, fall from grace. This can't be happening, it can't, it can't. How am I EVER supposed to get back, if Cas doesn't have his mojo to take me?

"Iria, I'm so sorry," Amy tells me as the end credits hit the screen. I stare at the TV, speechless. "I can never get back," I whisper. "Never."

That night I go to sleep knowing I can't wall asleep. But I don't feel like doing anything else, either, so I just lie between the sheets and stare at the ceiling. I'm even out of tears.

At some point, after hours of restless lying, the sleep finally comes.

I blink. Twice. This is not my bed. I'm staring at a night sky, full of stars, lying on the bed of grass. Then I notice the first shooting star.

A shooting star? I get up hastily. Or a falling angel? Could I..? I look around me. I'm on a field, and there, on the other side of it stands a building. I squint a bit to get a better view. Yes, it looks like a church. And there, parked in front of it...The Impala. It has to be. I dart forward, running as fast as I can. By the time I reach the car the sky is lit with falling angels, thousands of them.

I circle around the Impala, my heart bounding, and find the brothers lying on the ground, eyes fixed on the sky. Dean holds Sam, who looks like he's about to pass out, in his arms. Neither of them notices me. Tears burn in my eyes again.

"Dean!" I cry and dash to them.

He's on his feet so quickly I have no time to even blink. His arm twists around my neck, throwing me to the ground. I hit my head hard on the ground, and in that same instant Dean is sitting on my chest, his other hand holding me down from shoulder, other holding a knife on my throat.

I should've known better than jumping at him. "Dean, it's me," I splutter.

He blinks in confusion. "Iria? What the hell are you doing in here?" He doesn't loosen his grip of me, though. I guess he suspect I'm a demon or something – I would, too, assume Dean was demon if the
situation was reverse.

"It's me," I say, not daring to move an inch as I feel the cold blade against my throat. "Give me holy water or something, and I prove it."

Slowly he lets go of my shoulder – the knife resumes on my throat, though – and reaches the flask from his pocket. He unscrews the cap singlehandedly and splashes water on my face. I hawk as water flows into my nostrils.

The scowl between Dean's brows deepens as he gets up from my chest and hops few steps backwards. I
sit up on the ground and wipe my face on my sleeve. Then I turn to look at him.

Dean still stands warily, knife in his hand. I open my mouth to ask him put it away, but he speaks up quicker. "Now the silver knife," he states bluntly and tosses a small blade on my feet.

Holy shit, he can't be serious. Or can he? I take the knife in my hand and then look at him. And he nods.

Well, it looks like he is serious. One can't be too careful these days, I guess. So I bite my lip and slit a
small wound on my forearm. As soon as Dean sees I bleed red he drops the knife and leaps forward. Before I can react he has locked his arms around me and pushed his lips forcefully on mine. My body seems to
react on its own as I coil my hands around him and answer the kiss.

Dean doesn't let me go for a whole minute.

When he finally does, I'm breathless. He looks at me like he does not believe his very eyes. "What the hell?" he then repeats.

"I don't know." I shake my head in disbelieve. "I have no idea. Just woke in here." He pulls me near him
for another hug before letting me go. "What about Sam?" I ask nodding to his direction. I'm not sure whether Sam's conscious. He leans against the front door of the Impala, slouching unmoving."We gotta
get him in the hospital," Dean says sounding really worried. We drag Sam to the back seat – getting him in is actually very tricky, why he has to be so tall?

Dean circles around the Impala to the driver's door.

"What about Crowley?" I ask suddenly remembering the ex-king of hell inside the church.

For a second Dean looks really confused. "You have been watching that show again, haven't you?"

I give him a faint smile. "Of course, I needed to know what's happening to you."

"As far as I care that son of a bitch can stay tied up in there for as long as necessary, I couldn't care less.
Sam's now the priority."

I kind of knew he was going to say that, and I guess now is not the right time to tell him that I actually feel sorry for Crowley. Well, the demon will remain in there for as long as it takes to get Sam into proper care. I don't want him dying on the back seat of some freaking car. I sit down on the front seat, next to Dean
who's behind the wheel. It feels weird to be back after so long time. I pat the dash board to make sure it is real and not some kind of cruel dream. It feels true enough to me.

Dean speeds through the nightly roads not caring about limits. I look over my shoulder at Sam. He seems to conscious, though I'm not sure whether he understands what's going on. He recognizes me, though. "Hi Iria."

I try to smile at him. He looks like shit; his eyes are deep inside his head, and the skin around them is black. He has also lost weight – a lot, I would say by the looks of the dents on his cheeks. His condition didn't look that severe in the show, though it might've been just a matter of make-up. "Hi," I answer to him.

"Don'tcha worry, Sammy," Dean tries to sound enthusiastic, "we're gonna get you better." I'm not sure whether he's trying to reassure Sam or himself more.

I don't know if it is a good time to bring up the angels – probably not – but I do so anyways. "We have to find Castiel," I tell Dean. His gaze snaps from the road for few seconds to look at me in the eyes before returning back to the road.

"Why." It's not really a question, not in the way Dean says it. I do understand him, though; I'm still pissed off at the angel for not bringing me back here when he could, and Dean has even more reasons as Cas abandoned him and didn't trust at him where he should have.

But I also understand Castiel; I've got a wide view of his doings during the season, and he has tried his best to do the right thing. I just don't know how to explain that to Dean, so I pick the easy way. "He is fallen, now, as the other angels. He does not survive long in here without his mojo, and you know that, too."

Dean tightens his grip of the wheel and I can see he's gritting his teeth together; he must know I'm right, yet he's too stubborn to admit it. "Dean, he IS your friend," I murmur to him softly. "And more. He's family," I take a pause and bite my lip. How much I can say without making him feel uneasy? "We can't abandon him."

"He abandoned me, when I needed him," Dean insists stubbornly.

I sigh. This conversation isn't going well, but we can argue about this later. Now Sam IS priority, though I know we have to find Cas. Sooner the better. Dean would never forgive himself if something was to happen at the angel – well, ex-angel – and I know that.

"Where the fuck is that hospital," Dean mutters, changing the subject.

About that, I have no idea either. I don't take that this is a good time to remind him that with navigator finding one would be easier, so I say nothing.

Eventually Dean finds the right road and Sam's taken to the hospital. When Dean is asked what happened to him he just shrugs and claims that he found him that way from the yard. He also gives the health insurance card – fake, obviously – under name Samuel Allison.

Then we wait. The lobby smells like disinfectant and old people, like most of the hospitals do. I lean my head again the wall, sitting on a very uncomfortable chair. Dean sits next to me and I can see he has hard time keeping his eyes open. He pushes his fingers against his temples. He's exhausted, I can see that.

"You can sleep," I tell him, "I'll stay wake if there is news of Sam."

"I'm not tired."

I chuckle. "Sure you aren't. C'mon, close your eyes for a minute, it won't hurt you." And to my surprise he obeys. It doesn't take even a minute for him to fall asleep. As the doctor approaches us he has slumbered deeper in his chair, leaning his head against my shoulder. I like how worriless Dean looks when he sleeps, but I have to poke him wake when doctor asks whether we're relatives of – he pauses to check his papers –
Samuel Allison.

"Yeah, what's matter with him, doc?" Dean rushes to ask before the doctor has change to say anything else.

"I've never seen anything like this before," the doctor admits. "Most of his organs seem to malfunction, yet there's nothing wrong in them when tested." He takes another look at his papers. "And he had some internal bleeding, but that we were able to stop. He also appears to be in some kind of psychosis, most likely a shock, as he babbled Latin words when he was being examined."

We share a quick look with Dean. "Is that so? Will he be okay?"

The doctor nods. "I think the prognosis is good, as soon as his organs just start functioning as they should."

Dean is evidently relieved. "Thank you, doc." As the doctor excuses us and returns the way he came Dean continues, whispering so silently that only I can hear. "Sure thing he hasn't seen anything like this before; it's not like someone tries to champion God's tests on daily basis." Despite the serious situation he makes me chuckle. I guess it's a good thing that he jokes, that must mean he's not that worried anymore. On
the spur of the moment I give him a light kiss on the cheek.

We're allowed to see Sam. He is in a sitting position, supported by few pillows. His gaze is more alert than it has been during the time I've been back in here and I doubt that must be because they have pumped him full of sedatives to numb the pain he was in. For the first time he also seems to realize I'm present.

"Iria, is that really you?"

"Alive and kicking," Dean assures him. "Tested with holy water and all."

"But, how?" Sam scowls and tilts his head looking at me. "Did Cas bring you?"

I shake my head in denial. "I don't think so. I dropped in here after the angels fell from grace."

Sam looks genuinely confused. "Come again?"

Dean clears his throat. "Man, you were more out of it than I thought," he says. "After I drag you from Crowley the angels fell. Like, all of them."

The look on Sam's face is purely shocked. "But... How...?" he struggles to find the right words.

Dean answers with a shrug. "We dunno."

"And Cas..?"

Dean's expression darkens and Sam seems to be too well medicated to notice the difference as he looks at
his brother for an answer.

I cough to have his attention. "He, too, fell. I don't know where he is, though."Within next two days I try to
tell the brothers everything that I know – about the other characters, what I've been doing in my own dimension, why I'm back here – and on the morning of third day Sam's released from hospital. Good, since I was already sick of the place. We're now back on the motel room I and Dean have been living while Sam was examined at the hospital. He's still rather weak, but at least he is not coughing blood anymore and I take that as a good sign.

We sit around the table, talking about Supernatural stuff and eating sandwiches as Dean's cell suddenly
rings. Without further waiting Dean picks the phone from his pocket and answers, mouth full of his ham sandwich.

Within half a second his face falls and he swallows. "Cas?"

A long pause.

"Wait, what? Slow down. WHERE are you?" Dean glances at me, then at his brother. "No, you wait
right there. We're coming for you."

xoxoxox

"That son of a bitch, could've picked a better place to fall."

I doubt that Castiel didn't exactly choose the place nor falling, but I shut my mouth as I don't want to be cheeky.

Once again we're all in the Impala – I'm on the front seat, since Sam wanted to sleep in the back – driving trough the state. After Castiel's phone call it took us less than ten minutes to pack our stuff – well, just like the first time I was brought here, I don't have much with me, only the clothes I'm wearing. My other stuff is either in different dimension or in the hideout of Men of Letters – and sign out of the motel. I'm given a new cell phone, too; the last one I had is also in the hideout. I hope we go there after we have found Cas. I don't want to in shopping for new clothes since I have perfectly sufficient wardrobe in Kansas.

As Dean doesn't want to make vain stops, we drive in turns, even I am permitted to drive Baby. When I sit behind the wheel for the first time I feel exited; another dream of the fangirl is being fulfilled.

"Easy with her," Dean reminds me as I start the engine. I don't even dare to think how terribly mad Dean would get if I wrecked his car while he was sleeping.

Driving the Impala on the highway proves itself to be as boring as driving any other car on it. The road just
goes on and on without any remarkable changes in scenery. I peek quickly at the rear mirror in fear of police. If I were pulled off the road I would not have a license to present as I'm supposed to be dead in here, my wallet – and the license in it – gathering dust at some evidence locker. The thought also makes me wonder whether my family in here already knows I'm dead. Most likely they do, as my death happened
so long time ago. It makes me sad; having a family but never being able to meet them. I find myself wishing that the angels could get their mojo back, so that I could travel between the two universes; the one with home and the one with Dean. The most perfect scenario would be taking Dean home with me, but that would never work. I chuckle. He'd be driven crazy by the fans mistaking him for Jensen Ackles. And moreover, I could never ask Dean to make choice between me and hunting. It didn't work out for him in the past with Lisa, so why would it work with me? And in the earlier case he wasn't even asked to change the
dimension.

So the choice rests completely on my shoulders; given that the angels even can have their graces back.

Dean wakes up after few hours of driving. "So, where are we?" he asks me yawning. I give him the latest name on the sign I saw a while back, and Dean unfolds the road map. He follows the line that stands for our current route with his finger and tabs the town name.

"Are we still far away?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "If anything unusual doesn't come up, we should be there by noon."

It's almost dawn. So few more hours, "if anything unusual doesn't come up". That sounds really sinister to me – in Supernatural unusual is the usual and something ALWAYS comes up.

"Pull over on next diner that's open," Dean says to me, obviously not noticing my silence, "I'm hungry." As Dean reminds me of food, my own stomach grumbles, too. And a pause in driving would be mostly welcome.

xoxoxox

Dean's estimate on the arriving time is rather precise as we reach the border of the town half past eleven. It takes another ten minutes to reach the center of the town and even less to find the right payphone; apparently there is only one in whole town, situated in the corner formed by two biggest avenues. What a one-horse town.

And there, on the bench next to the phone booth, sits Castiel in his familiar trench coat.

Accompanied by two police officers.

"Shit," Dean swears at the sight of the police, but nevertheless he pulls the Impala on the side of road and gets up. I and Sam, too, follow him."Is there a problem, officer?" Dean calls out the officers as we approach
them.

When Cas hears Dean's voice, his head snaps up. He looks awful, so no wonder the police got interested. On closer look his coat is full of mud stains and his suit under it is ruined. The tie hangs loosely around his neck, and it looks like he has lost weight. Castiel's dark hair is shaggy, decorated by few sprigs and dry leaves. The normal stubble on his chin has grown longer. All together he looks like a hobo.

"Dean," I hear Castiel's murmur as he recognizes the man. I gasp. Even though he looks like shit, the worst part is his eyes. They are darker than I remembered – could that has something to do with the lost grace? – and the gaze in them is full of confusion and agony. He looks like a hunted animal.

"Sir, do you know him?" the other of the officers asks Dean and he nods.

"You told me to wait here."

Dean sighs. "Cas, I didn't mean it literally; you didn't have to wait by the phone, you know? You could have gone into a motel or something."

Castiel looks puzzled. "I waited for you in here," he then repeats and stands up. I can see he's slightly wobbling.

Dean notices that too. "Whoa, are you okay, man?"

As Castiel casts his eyes upon me, his eyes widen and he doesn't even realize to answer to Dean. Well, with him surprising like that on the sight of me, I guess at least it wasn't him pulling me back in here.

It takes the better part of an hour to clear things with the police so that they leave us. Before leaving the other tells us to take Cas out of here one more time. Then they get in their car and drive away.

Dean leads Castiel to the Impala and makes him sit in the back. "Let's find a motel or something," Dean suggests as he sits behind the wheel.

xoxoxox

In the motel Cas tells us that he hasn't either slept or eaten since he called Dean. "You told me to wait there," he repeats once again sheepishly. "So I did." He doesn't seem to realize it's not customary for humans to sit still, soiled, for over twelve hours.

Dean buries his face into his palm. "I didn't mean – well, it doesn't matter now what I meant. You should go
wash up; you're filthy."

"Okay," Castiel says but doesn't even lift a finger to get up from the chair he is sitting.

After a while Dean raises his other eyebrow. "Umm, Cas? Without your mojo you need water and soap."

For few seconds Castiel looks puzzled, and then he seems to understand. "Oh, right. The bathroom?" The angel gets up.

"Yes, the tub and soap are in there."

I bite my knuckles not to laugh. Castiel seems to be just as utterly helpless that I thought he would be.

Castiel disappears into the bathroom – he doesn't close the door behind him, so Dean does that for him. That makes me chuckle; normally Dean is the one leaving the bathroom door open.

Few minutes later the water stops running, and Castiel appears on the door – stripped from his clothes,
dangling them in his arms. "How do I clean these?" he asks with a tone that suggest it's completely normal to stand naked and dripping water in front of other people asking house holding tips.

I can't hold it anymore, but I burst in laughter. I guess Dean doesn't share my opinion on this being a funny scenery as he gives me a nasty looks and then sighs. "Never mind those, I lend you clothes."

"Okay." Castiel drops the clothes to the spot he's standing and stares at Dean intensively.

"What, you need them clothes right away?"

"Yes, I would appreciat3e that."

Dean dashes to his bag and tosses a pair of jeans – probably the first ones he found – to Castiel. "But use towel first, so that you won't dampen them right away."

Castiel returns to bathroom and comes out again few minutes later – this time wearing the jeans. Dean gives him a shirt and socks, too.

"How do I get rid of this?" Cas asks stroking his long stubble.

"You have to shave it."

"Okay." Cas keeps a pause and tilts his head slightly, scowling. "How?"

Dean sighs again. "What are you, a baby?" he complains. "C'mon, I'll show you." He nabs the angel by arm and pushes him back to the bathroom, leaving me and Sam smirking at each others.

Later that night, when Cas is clad and shaved so that he looks more like himself – though it's bit confusing
that he's in Dean's clothes – we sit by the tiny table of the motel room and discuss about our situation. Again, the lair of Men of Letters seems to be our best choice; there's very little brothers could do for Cas without knowing where Metatron took his grace, and even less that they could do for me as we don't even know who brought me here. Castiel's best guess is that I was taken by some angel before Metatron closed Heaven banishing all of them. But even that seems unlikely to me; why would they bring me here now, after I have begged for months for return, without an answer? But in the Men of Letters bunker we'd have time to investigate all this without being disturbed and even look for new cases as things to be hunted haven't miraculously ceased to exist. So in the first light of the new day we pack the Impala and leave. There's no place like Kansas, right?

Getting to the bunker takes another day but we reach the place before the nearest store – even if it still rather far away from the hideout – before it closes for the night. We buy a large supply of canned goods as those are the ones that keep the longest. Dean demands on buying some pie, too – of course – so therefore I feel like I have the right to buy chocolate. I chuckle as the brothers look uncomfortable when I toss the chocolate among some tampons into the basket. But actually I'm even more amused by the fact that Castiel seems to be curious about what the little, bright colored box was.

We must be a quite ordeal to the poor guy on the cashier. I try to smile apologetic to him as he runs the
groceries though the cash register. Then we finally make it back to the car.

At the bunker I find all my stuff that I left behind last time I got zapped and I'm, once again, grateful for clean clothes. One truly starts appreciating them after using same underwear for days. I peel the sweaty, soiled clothes off and march to the shower. I think it is a small miracle that the water still runs in the old pipes of the hideout. We don't have hot water in here, though, but that's beside the point.

When I get out, wrapped in a large, white towel, I find Dean sitting on his bed, browsing the diary of their dad.

"Any new cases?" I ask him nodding towards the book as he raises his gaze from it.

Dean gives me a dashing smile and closes the diary shaking his head. "Not really, I was just reading."

I smirk at him. "I thought you knew the whole diary by heart."

He utters laughter. "Not completely, and besides, repetition is the mother of learning." Dean puts his hands on my hips. "Com'ere," he says and suddenly pulls me sitting down next to him.

I giggle as he kisses me on the cheek and slips his hand under my towel.

"Stop that," I say to him and slap his hand away playfully. "I just got out of shower, I don't want to get all sweaty again!"

Dean chuckles but lets me go anyways. As I dress in clean clothes Dean, too, decides to take shower and for a moment I consider going with him – who cares I just got out? But I decide not to, and few seconds later
I find out it was a good decision to not start stripping again as Castiel barges in unexpectedly. Without knocking, of course.

"Holy crap, Cas!" Dean snarls at the angel as he comes out of the shower, alerted by ado. Cas looks as confused as ever. "What I've said about personal space and stuff?"

"That I should probably knock before coming in," Castiel says and only then he seems to realize that
he just didn't do so. "I can go outside and knock, if you preferred so," he proposes and is already turning on his heels as Dean tells him that won't be necessary. "Just remember next time, okay?"

The other man nods. And he's staring at Dean's base chest, I notice, instead of his face. Dean seems to notice nothing. "You had something in your mind, or why didya come here?" he asks with more casual tone, even though I can still hear he's slightly annoyed.

Cas ceases from staring at Dean's pecs and snaps his gaze to look at his face instead. "Yes," he murmurs. "Sam sent me to tell you he has probably found a new case." Then the angel turns around – almost bumping to the door. I guess he's not used to using doors or anything normal like that, as he used to pop from place to another as he wished. I see Castiel blinking as he reaches for the handle. To me it seems like Castiel's bit lost at the moment. And I can't really blame him, for wanting to be with Dean, as he's probably the most familiar thing in Cas' life right now. So I decide to swallow my jealousy and go after the angel, Dean coming on my heels pulling a t-shirt over his head as he walks.

xoxoxox

That night, as I lay next to Dean on our narrow bed, I finally pluck up my courage and ask Dean: "What is there between you and Cas?"

The man startles, I can feel it as I lean against his chest. "Whatcha mean?"

I sigh. "You know what I mean. C'mon, I've seen how you look at him, and vice versa." I roll over to lean against my elbows to get a better look at his face. He looks puzzled, yet somehow relieved. "Have I been that obvious?" He gives me a resigned chuckle.

Hah, I so knew it. Though it makes me feel confused as the fangirl in me is excited and I'm jealous.

Dean looks at the ceiling above him, evading from my gaze. "Nothing has happened," he tells me.

"But he wants something, right? What about you?"

Now he looks genuinely surprised, giving me puppy-eyes almost as good as his brother's. "He does?" Dean sighs.

"C'mon, that's obvious." Has he truly been this blind the whole time? "Think about it; Castiel showing up almost every time you call for him, how he disobeyed multiple times direct commands from his own kin to help you, how he couldn't kill you when he was supposed –"

"Whoa, wait, Cas was supposed to KILL me? When?" Dean sounds and looks shocked, so I tell him about
how Naomi trained Cas to suppress his feelings towards Dean so that he could slay him when needed.

"That son of a bitch!" Dean mutters and suddenly bashes his fist against the sheets angrily. "I'd kill her, he she wasn't already dead, I swear."

So nothing has happened between two of them – yet, that is. I don't know whether I should be happy or disappointed, maybe I'm bit both.

xoxoxox

Days go by turning into weeks and months. We hunt things together and Cas and I are getting better at it, day by day. We never forget about Metatron, though, and keep track for any possible rumors about him or Cas' grace. From time to time we even meet other angels; some of them are hostile towards us but most are co-operative. Even demons seem to life low now. We haven't heard of anything about Abadon since she fled from the church. I have my doubts, though, about her wanting to open the pit to let Lucifer out again. Dean tells me that her succeeding in that is highly unlikely. Though, if the gate is opened once again, even Michael (and Adam, too, I think we should try to find a way to safe him. He's their brother, after all.) would be released. I wonder whether he still would have his grace as he was in the pit when other angels fell.

I, too, miss my home even though I'm happy in this dimension with Dean. I lay in another motel room on the bed, Dean sleeping on my other side and Castiel on the other. Ever since Dean finally admitted his
bisexuality and I made him tell Cas about his feelings the ex-angel has been sleeping with us, mostly. I don't mind it, not much at least; I like Cas a lot in a way. And being with him makes Dean happy, so who am I to complain? As Meg said it he was Dean's boyfriend first.

I curl up under the quilt and find myself thinking about Amy, wondering how she's doing and whether they already miss me at home. I'm not sure how the time flows in the different dimensions, especially now that the angels are not tuning the time and dimension as they wish. Then I yawn, stretch my arms around the
men of my new life and fall asleep.

xoxoxox

Iria disappeared shortly after the final episode of the season eight. And Amy was worried sick about her; did the demons get to her since there were no more angels to protect her? Amy blamed herself for leaving her alone that night. She should've stayed with her little sister. Iria was clearly upset because of the episode and Amy could understand why. The Winchesters were her friends, and Dean meant even more to her. Amy had started liking them (and in a different way than you like the main characters of your favorite show), too, during the short time she had spent with them, and she needed to admit; Sam was hot. So Amy
tried to think herself in Iria's position. Seeing the brothers suffer and almost die must've been rough.

Yet she couldn't bring herself to think that Iria would've done something to herself – she wasn't like that. Most likely she was somewhere trying to get to Dean, and killing herself wouldn't solve anything and would still leave Dean and Sam in a pinch.

So when police came by asking questions – as she was the last person to see her – Amy denied that Iria would've been suicidal. She also kept the fact that Iria had been upset by some TV show to herself; it wouldn't do any good to her if the police thought she was some kind of nutcase.

The summer came and went by without any news of Iria. Their mother started to grow more and more dispirited; their parents seemed starting to believe Iria was dead. And Amy could do nothing to console them. They'd just start worrying over her, too, if she started babbling about demons and prophets.

And then, it finally was the day of the premiere of the season nine. At first Amy thought of skipping it; the
brothers could not help her through the screen. Then she told herself she was being stupid; Supernatural was her best way of getting information from her sister's whereabouts.

So that night she opened the TV just in time to hear the ending of Carry on My Wayward Son. The episode picked up from the point the last season had left the story; Dean and Sam, sitting next to the Impala, watching the angels fall. But then, short after that, someone attacked them! Amy leaned forward to get
better view. But before she could, the scene cut black. Dammit.

After commercials the episode went on and they finally showed the face of the attacker; it was a young woman. Who she is, Amy wondered as she didn't remember seeing her before in the show, though she looked familiar. Maybe bit too familiar...

"Iria?" she asked together with Dean and leaped forward, her face almost touching the screen. It wasn't a spitting image of her, that was for sure, but it surely looked A LOT like her. Amy's suspecting was confirmed as Dean splashed holy water on her, proving it wasn't just some son-of-a-bitch demon imposing as her.

After the woman proved her blood was as red as any other human's blood, Dean leaped forward to embrace and kiss her passionately. "What the hell?" Dean finally managed to ask as he pulled away from the girl, though Amy didn't pay much attention to him now.

She felt too happy for that. She didn't quite understand how Iria got back, but none of that mattered;
she was fine and with the Winchesters. They would keep her out of harm's way – or otherwise Amy would find a way to get into Supernatural HERSELF and kick their asses until they were too sore to sit in a
week.

They even wound Cas in the episode – good, Iria might beat some sense into Dean so that he would stop scolding the angel. Castiel has tried to do the best he could in the given circumstances, and Iria knew that, too.

Soon Amy found herself waiting anxiously for the new episodes. As weeks went by she learned from one of the fallen angels – Joshua, the angel who had been able to communicate with God had learned that he still could, even without his grace – that God himself had pulled Iria, among some other prophets, back to the dimension of Supernatural. Apparently he had PLANS – whatever they might be. Amy wondered whether Chuck had really been God and if they were going to reveal more about him in the series. Too bad she couldn't discuss about these things with Iria anymore.

But all that mattered was that she was alive and happy, at least as far as Amy could tell just by looking at her. She smiled to the TV screen even though she knew Iria could not see her doing so. Amy felt bit weird and guilty while looking at her sister, sleeping between the angel and the man. Like she was eavesdropping or something.

"You go girl," she wished to Iria as she turned off the end credits.

THE END