Chubby's Bar and Grill didn't look like much from the outside, but Dean had been there before and knew they had the best food this side of Lawrence. While he believed in business before pleasure, he thought a little downtime was exactly what the doctor ordered - if there had been a doctor ordering something. A little good food and companionable conversation followed by a little fun. A night out. No, it wasn't the Ritz, but it wasn't so much about their surroundings as it was about spending quality time together.

All things considered, Dean was in good spirits, confident that whatever it was they were facing, everything would work out okay, so long as they faced it together. He pushed open the door to Chubby's, playing the gentleman tonight and waiting for her to step inside before doing the same. There was a small crowd gathered, as usual in places like these. A pool table in one corner, a dart board on the wall. A TV over the bar had a Royals game going, and there were several people gathered around to cheer on their favorite team.

Dean had pulled out his best casual shirt for the evening - a gray henley shirt he hadn't worn in forever - and his best pair of blue jeans. A brown leather jacket topped it all off, a pair of brown hiking boots on his feet. His hair was shoved to the side and sticking up a little in front, still damp from the shower. He was clean, freshly shaven, and smelled of some musky scent men tended to wear to impress the women who loved them.

Without quite discussing it, Nim had made a little more of an effort in dressing herself, too. Though in her case, this effort had shown itself mostly in her willingness to wear a denim skirt that definitely showed her legs off to good effect. Next to the skirt, the comfortable dolman foil shirt was barely noticeable, but for the bright red bra strap peeking out from beneath the dark material. She'd taken the time to dry her hair, though the honey-gold fall had been left to float loose over her shoulders, and the delicate musk of her own scent was a sweet compliment to Dean's. Stepping into the bar, she looked around with a cheerful smile, instantly at home there, glancing back over her shoulder to her companion as he stepped in behind her. "Excellent choice, as always."

He shrugged a single shoulder, a pleased smile on his face at the compliment. "I have my moments." The door swung closed as they stepped inside, a few half-interested glances their way, mostly from people who were on the prowl for hook-ups, but the looks didn't linger long as it seemed the pair was a couple. Dean pressed a hand at the small of her back as he stepped in behind her, nodding to a table in a quiet corner away from the crowd, for now. "Over there?"

Rising onto her toes for a moment, she peered in the direction he nodded in, smiling as she moved to claim the table he indicated. She didn't even seem to notice the curious and disappointed glancing their way. "You do know you're just lining up the compliments for me, right?" she chuckled over her shoulder to him fondly. "Your 'moments' all join together one second to the next. Apart from when you piss me off." Her finger wiggled in front of his nose briefly as her smile turned teasing.

He chuckled as her finger waggled in front of him warningly, like that was a big threat. "You can't stay mad at me. You love me," he leaned in to drop a quick kiss against her lips before tweaking her nose. "There's always makeup sex," he smirked. He seemed entirely oblivious of the glances their way, either too accustomed to notice or he just didn't care.

"You're gonna coast on that for the rest of time, aren't you?" she laughed back at him, her smile not even dimming under the touch of his lips. Her nose wrinkled at the tweak, body leaning back automatically as she rubbed the offended feature with the back of her hand. "Love or not, makeup sex isn't gonna save you from growly Nim if you don't feed me something other than -" She broke off before she could actually say it out loud, flashing a wide grin to an interested-looking eavesdropper looking them over while he waited for his own date to get back to the table.

Snickering, she dropped herself into a seat at the table Dean had pointed out, turning an expression that might almost have been innocent onto him. "Did I mention that you're looking razor fine tonight' Because you really are."

Dean flashed a grin at her question. "Hell, yes. Makeup sex makes arguing almost worth it." He actually pulled out the chair for her, all gentleman tonight, smirking when she broke off from her statement, not really caring who overheard them at the moment. "Other than what?" he prodded, taking a seat across from her once she was seated, smiling at the compliment. "You did now."

A skirt made it necessary for Nim to actually pay attention to the way she sat down, unable to sit in her usual splayed manner without inviting the kind of interest that would get Dean riled up in a bad way. "Other than ..." Groping for some euphemism that wouldn't be too crude or too blunt, she crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in her chair as she watched him move to sit down. "....other than asphyxhiated poultry," she finally decided upon, throwing him a triumphant grin.

He furrowed his brows, looking confused as he settled himself in the chair, leaning forward and folding his arms against the table in front of him. "Strangled chicken?" he guessed, not quite getting what she meant. But before she could offer up an explanation, there was a squeal from across the room of "Oh my god, it's Dean Winchester!" in a decidely female voice.

Strangled wasn't quite what she was getting at, but it was close enough. Nim was laughing at his guess as the bright squeal from across the bar highlighted his name. Blinking, the blonde hunter looked over her shoulder curiously before casting her dark gaze back to Dean with a faintly teasing smirk. "Sounds like you have a fan. One who doesn't think you're dead."

A tall, buxom redhead was heading their way with a wide grin on her face and a couple of menus in her hand, a red apron tied around her hourglass waist. She was attractive in a stripper or centerfold sort of way, but not the kind of girl you took home to meet your mother. Not that Dean had a mother. His brows furrowed again as he looked her over, searching him memory for a name and coming up blank.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out, the redhead was there at the table, beaming a red-lipsticked smile at him and ignoring Nim. "It's been a long time, Dean. Miss me?" she smirked. "Where's that tall, handsome brother of yours?" She swung a glance around, obviously not seeing Sam, as he was dead in this world.

Only a few days ago, this development would have sent Nim's mood plunging into something highly explosive and not exactly fun to be around. Given the ....exertions ....of the afternoon, however, she was feeling pretty confident. Leaning back in her chair, arms folding comfortably over her waist, she looked the buxom redhead up and down appreciatively, turning an enquiring smile in Dean's direction. Really' her expression said in varying degrees of amusement. This is the sort of thing you've been tapping over the years"

"Can I get a beer" Whatever's on tap."

The waitress smiled and turned to Nim. "And for you, honey?"

He knew exactly how to send her thoughts in a direction that really wasn't suitable for a public arena at all, making her giggle at the comment that reminded her abruptly of what he enjoyed doing with that handful. She was still laughing as the other waitress came over, lifting a friendlier smile to the woman. "Uh, I'll take a beer too, thanks."

The waitress smiled at them both and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. "Don't worry about Candy. I'll make sure she keeps her distance." She tossed an understanding wink at Nim and sauntered off to get their beers.

Dean breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Even dead, I have a reputation."

Grateful for their new waitress' assurances, Nim nodded to her with a murmured thank you as the woman walked away to the bar. Dark eyes turned back to Dean at the sound of his sigh, lips loosing a chuckle at his comment. "Oh yeah, 'cos that conjures up some real wholesome images," she drawled sarcastically, her fingers squeezing between his as her eyes lowered to the menu in front of her. "What do you recommend?"

"Yeah, well....You saw Bobby's reaction when he saw me for the first time. Thought I was a f*cking demon." He had to wonder what would happen when word started getting around that he was back from the dead. Distracted from that line of thinking by the far more immediate question of good food, he glanced to the menu, one hand resting against it, but not bothering to open it. "Cheeseburger." He smiled. "But that's just me. I'm addicted to cheeseburgers."

"And guaranteed to be able to order one in any country you're likely to visit," she added with a laugh, scanning the menu in front of her briefly before closing it again. It was a bar; the food on offer was predictable enough not to need the menu anyway. Leaning toward him, she let her temple touch against his for a moment. "You're definitely addictive."

His smile widened and he pushed her hair back from her face, fingers brushing against her forehead. "You need a fix" Just ask." He tipped her chin upwards to press a kiss against her lips, publicly claiming her as belonging to him. His eyes drifted closed for a moment as their lips met. Candy who"

Lips touched smiling lips, and Nim didn't care anymore about the Barbie doll glaring in their direction every time she walked by. It was soft, chaste, but definitely making a point. Drawing back, her smile widened, the tip of her nose circling his. "Aren't I supposed to be the one marking my territory?" she asked in a teasing murmur, nipping his lower lip lightly.

His fingers combed through the soft golden strands of her hair, and he smiled as he leaned his forehead against hers, close enough that their breath mingled between them. "I'm making a statement. Don't spoil the moment." He drew a hand around to the back of her neck and kissed her again, not quite so chastely this time, letting anyone who was watching know what she meant to him.

Her answering laugh was swallowed in a kiss that was just on the edge of not being suitable at all for public consumption, not that she had any objection. Her own hand rose to curl at his jaw, responding to his kiss with enthusiasm enough to make his statement hers. This was probably why they'd had to come out to eat; even ordering in, it was difficult not to be distracted from basic needs by the connection they shared. "Did I spoil it yet?" she grinned against his lips, eyes flickering open to meet his as she tasted his breath mingling with her own.

He sighed yet again as their lips parted, smiling at her question. "No, you're perfect," he told her, stealing Dione's words to describe her, kissing her a third time just as applause and hollering broke out at the bar, startling him, distracting him from the kiss as he thought for a moment, they were applausing for them. He turned his head toward the hooting and hollering, realizing it was all because of a baseball game. The waitress interrupted next as she returned with two glasses and a pitcher of beer.

A third kiss in as many minutes was a treat and a half, however swiftly it was curtailed by the enthusiastic support for the Royals rippling through the bar. Nim was as guilty as Dean of thinking they'd elicited applause, grinning as she ducked her head, lifting a hand to brush her hair back out of her face. The arrival of their beer was a good distraction, keeping her from claiming a fourth kiss. "Thanks," she smiled to the waitress, rubbing her thumb over Dean's where their hands remained linked together.

"That should hold you a while," the waitress winked good-naturedly. She scribbled their order on a pad of paper and departed to take their order to the kitchen, leaving them alone once again.

Dean took a sip of his beer, gesturing toward the TV set over the bar with the glass before lowering it. "Royals were my favorite team when I was a kid. Used to wanna be a ball player before....you know..." He actually wasn't sure if she did know, but he left his mother's death unmentioned.

"It'll hold something," Nim chuckled back as their order was whisked away, lifting her glass to her lips to take a long, slow sip of the cool draught. Her head tipped back to look up at the TV set for a moment, the polite interest on her face displaying her lack of understanding of the game being broadcast before she looked back to Dean. She knew. Brian had made sure that she knew certain things about Dean's background as fact, though she wasn't entirely sure that her friend's information was accurate for her lover's history. "That's really sweet," she laughed softly, lowering the glass back to the table. "I'll bet you were a cute little scrapper."

He took another swallow from his mug before lowering it to the table, snickering at her remark. "Honestly' I sucked at baseball. I only got as far as teeball before..." He broke off again. "Bobby taught me how to catch." Dad taught me how to shoot. How f*cked up is that" He didn't have anything else to say about that. "What about you?" Then he realized she didn't remember her past and couldn't answer those kinds of questions. "Never mind. Sorry. I'm an idiot."

For once, the allusion to a past that he knew better than she did didn't encourage that incurable sadness in her gaze. She just shrugged, smiling as she shook her head. "You're not an idiot, I don't mind," she assured him, squeezing his hand gently. "I can say that I really don't get the whole sports thing. What's the fun in tossing a ball around, or worse, watching someone toss a ball around?"

He chuffed at her remark, believing he didn't have much of a singing voice, even though he loved music. "You wanna see me get pelted with tomatoes?" he asked, with a smirk, as he wrapped his hands around his burger again and lifted it to his mouth for a bite.

Music was a necessity in Dean's life; he needed it like some people needed sustenance. He had grown up listening to classic rock during long road trips with his dad. Music was the sometimes the only thing that had kept him sane, especially when he was alone. Driving for hours, trying to stay awake, it was music that soothed the lonely heartache in his soul and music that kept him going day after day.

Laughing around her mouthful again, she licked a trail of relish from her lip as he smirked over his burger at her. One thing you could never fault Dean for - the man loved his food. "Aw, c'mon," she wheedled in a teasing voice, wondering whether it was actually possible to convince him to do something he wasn't sure of. "Who said I'd make you sing" You know, unless you wanted to." A cheeky light lit up her face. "Make you a deal - you sing, or you play the middle eight riff in something."

"Not much point to open mic night if I'm just standing there doing nothing, is there" Besides, you're the musician, not me. Singing on stage isn't the same as in the shower." He smiled almost shyly, and took another bite of his burger. It wasn't that he was shy so much as he had a small case of stage fright. He'd never stood in front of a microphone before, not even drunk at a karaoke bar. The only other person who had ever heard him sing was Sam - and a drunk Santa - and neither was there to tell about it.

Nim's smile softened as he let that shyer side show for a brief moment, finding it really rather sweet even if she wasn't entirely sure she believed it. He wasn't someone she could equate the term 'shy' with most of the time. "You don't know what an open mic night is, do you?" she countered with a gentle chuckle. To be fair, it had taken the combined efforts of three of the hunters who passed through the Landing regularly to get her behind a microphone the first time, but she didn't regret it. Performing to an audience was the only thing she'd found even partway comparable to being with Dean.

One hand full of cheeseburger, he picked up the beer and took a swig, brows arching at her question. "Uh, yeah....It's kind of like karaoke without the karaoke machine." In theory, he got the gist of open mic night, but he'd never actually witnessed one, or if he had, he'd been too busy drinking or flirting to notice. "Do you have open mic nights at the Landing?" He took another pull from his mug before setting it down and stuffing a few fries in his mouth. From the way he was shovelling food down his gullet, you'd think he was starving to death.

Swallowing another mouthful, Nim took a sip from her own mug to wash it down. She'd seen him eating enough times now not to stare incredulously at how fast he ate; now the incredulity usually came up half an hour later when he didn't give any sign of having heartburn. "Not unless Ralph's in town," she shrugged, licking her fingertip delicately clean. "I swear, that man always has some kind of instrument on him, even if it's just a kazoo. He rolls up at the Landing, drinks a coupla beers, and then just starts playing. I don't remember anyone complaining, either."

"Ralph?" he echoed, the name unfamiliar to him, but he wasn't even sure if the guy was a hunter. He knew a Rufus and a Roy, but he'd never heard of a hunter named Ralph. Rufus was a friend, but Dean had promised himself that if he ever ran into Roy again, he was gonna give the guy a serious as$-kicking, at the very least. "Is he a hunter?" he asked curiously, snagging a bottle of ketchup and squeezing some out onto his french fries.

"You know, I don't really know." Which was odd, because she should have known if Ralph was a hunter. It had never occurred to her to ask; the natural assumption was that if you frequented the Landing, you were one of them. "I mean ....well, he can't be that much of a normal. He was there the night I showed up, and apparently it didn't freak him out at all. Brian just kinda handed me over to him and he sat there letting me bleed all over him until the paramedics showed." She shrugged, dipping a single french fry from her own plate into a splurge of ketchup on his with a cheeky little flicker of a smile.

Dean paused with a ketchup-laden french fry halfway to his mouth, distracted from eating it by her story, of which he only knew bits and pieces. He lowered the french fry as something clicked in his brain. "Dione," he said. "Did you find anything out about her yet?" He wasn't sure what Ralph had to do with it, if anything, but a puzzle piece just fell into place in his brain, and he wasn't sure why he hadn't though of it sooner. "I think she's the one who brought us here."

Nim blinked, surprised by the sudden switch from what she had thought was just conversation into business. "Well, no, I haven't really started looking yet," she admitted, taking another drink from her mug. Tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear, she met his eyes thoughtfully. "If she did, that's a hell of a lot of power for one being to have."

His mind worked in mysterious ways at times, one thing leading to another and another. In this case, it was the mention of her arrival that set the dominoes tumbling in his brain. "Yeah, which narrows it down. I don't think she's an angel. Not....bitchy enough. Not a demon either. You ever run into anything with silver eyes before?"

"No, nothing with silver eyes," she shook her head, the food forgotten as her mind began turning over the various little clues they had at their disposal to put together. "I mean, it's pretty obvious that Dione isn't the name she's used to using, but I don't think she made it up on the spot, either. And there's that spell she used on us. Have you ever come across anything that can do anything remotely similar?"

He washed down a few fries with another swig of his beer, shaking his head as he swallowed. "No, though..." He frowned as a particular thought entered his mind, one he hadn't considered and that he hoped wasn't the case. The look on his face showed his annoyance at that particular thought, even though he hadn't shared it yet.

"Though ....what?" Her head tilted as she looked over at him, eyes wide and attentive to his thoughts as he shared them in his own time. "You want me to get the phone out now, or save that for later?" She still wasn't entirely sure how they'd gotten from discussing Ralph to talking through the events of the afternoon and extrapolating from there just who Dione was, but it had to be done sometime.

"You're not gonna like it," he warned, knowing she wouldn't like where his thought process was taking him. It didn't fit the situation precisely, but he thought he might be on the right track anyway. He leaned forward, folding his arms against the table and lowering his voice for her ears only. "Cupid," he said, waiting to see what her reaction to that would be.

The smile he got in return was sweet and shy, the sort of smile a boy gets when he asks a girl who's crushing on him out for the first time. Like Dean, Nim knew what they'd been talking about, even that it was important, but suddenly it didn't seem so urgent anymore. She turned her phone off, sliding it back into her pocket as her dark eyes lingered over every nuance of Dean's face, feeling ridiculously buoyant with affection for him. But even that wasn't enough to keep natural wariness at bay, her glance flickering toward the Royals' fans watching the game. "Here?"

Behind Dean, the jukebox clattered into life of its own accord, inner workings moving smoothly to select a song by itself. The simple tune made itself known, easily covering the sound of the baseball fans at the other end of the bar as the familiarly husky tones of Bryan Adams took up the melody. Oh, thinkin' about all our younger years ....it was only you and me ...

"Yes, here," he answered just as the jukebox came on, and he held out a hand to her, a smile on his face. Whatever it was that had angered him was forgotten for the moment, unimportant in the face of this time alone with her. "Dance with me, Nimue," he repeated, his eyes pleading with her, wanting more than anything to be near her, just to hold her close. "Please."

There it was again. He only called her Nimue on rare occasions, but every time, she melted. He could have asked her to stand on the bar and do a strip tease, and for that voice, that smile, the sound of her full chosen name in that tone, she would have done it in a heartbeat. "All right." Her answer was barely audible, given more in the shine of her smile as her fingers slid over his palm, acquiescing to his offer with more grace than she would have done without this influence. But then, without this influence, he might not have asked her to dance in the first place.

Yet equally he might have, given the right circumstances. He had once, in bare feet on a sandy beach in the moonlight, with the music coming from the Impala. Had he been under Aphrodite's influence then, or had that been all Dean' He wasn't too sure himself, and at that moment, he didn't care. He moved to his feet, taking her hand in his and pulling her up with him. It wasn't the kind of bar that was made for dancing, but he pulled her to him, arms sliding around her waist to hold her snugly against him, swaying to the slow beat, letting the music guide his feet.

As the couple rose to curl arms about one another, those watchful silver eyes relaxed. They didn't need any more help to distract themselves now; all she'd ever provided was a little push. And they were so much fun to watch.

Wrapped up in Dean's arms, Nim leaned in close, remembering the moonlight and the sand of the beach, her arms rising to loop over his shoulders, fingers playing in and out of the short crop of his hair as she gazed into his eyes tenderly. She didn't care about the looks being shot in their direction by people unused to seeing slow dancing in this bar, caught up in scent and touch, enjoying the sense of being held and loved. A faint giggle touched her lips as a stray thought came to her, making her eyes twinkle with suggestive amusement.

Dean was completely lost in a spell that was of no one's making, except that magical feeling that happened between a man and a woman when they were in love, with just a teensy bit of a push from a certain silver-eyed goddess. He smiled back at her, feeling strangely happy, like he had beneath the moonlight that first night on the beach. God, what had happened to him' Whatever it was, he didn't want to lose this feeling, ever. He smiled, wondering what it was she was giggling about, ignoring the stares they were getting from the other patrons in the bar, who seemed more interested in baseball than romance. He would have asked what she was giggling about, but he didn't want to interrupt the song, finding the lyrics appropriate.

For a man who openly mocked all things romance, he was certainly good at it. Good enough to reduce her to a puddle of goo with just a smile in the right mood. Her giggle faded easily as her thoughts turned away from what had happened after the last time they'd danced together, focusing on the here and now as the music wound around them, overlaying the sound of the patrons in the bar just enough to let her ignore them altogether. Love is all that I need, and I found it there in your heart ....it isn't too hard to see we're in heaven ....The backs of her fingers stroked against Dean's jaw in a slow caress as she swayed with him. It wasn't a song she'd openly admit to liking, but after tonight, Heaven was definitely going into her top twenty.

It was true. He'd been to heaven, and compared to this, heaven sucked. Heaven was just reliving the favorite parts of your life over and over. This was creating those memories and actually living them. There was no comparison, in his mind. Heaven, Dean had decided, was here in Nim's arms. He locked his fingers together at the small of her back, swaying slowly in place while he gazed into her eyes, as if he could find the answers to all of life's questions in that gaze. He leaned in, tipping his head downward from his height, so that he could rest his forehead against hers. The hell with the world. For one night, eternity was theirs.

As he leaned down to her, her smile deepened again, just enough to make it his smile, the one that only ever lit her face just for him. She could taste his breath on her lips, feel his arms snug about her, and for these brief moments, nothing else in the world mattered at all. Demons, monsters, angels, the possibility of ancient goddesses getting off on watching private encounters ....none of it had a chance of taking hold in her mind when she was so entirely focused on Dean. Even as the music faded away, the sound of the game on the TV rushing in to replace it, she didn't feel the distraction, a soft nuzzle gently touching her lips to his in the merest ghost of a kiss.

That brief touch of a kiss set his heart ablaze, everything around them fading, as if only the two of them existed in all the world. Her lips touched his, and he stopped swaying, pouring everything he was feeling into that kiss, however brief. All the loneliness and the heartache and the joy and the pain. Whether she was a gift of the gods or not, she belonged to him now, and he loved her with all his heart and soul.

It was so much more than a kiss pretended to be; far more than simply the sharing of affection, an outpouring of tenderness that needed an outlet. In that brief connection, Nim could have sworn she felt her heart touch Dean's, melting into his, forgetting in the rush of feeling that they weren't the same being. A cascade of plates from a tray close by interrupted the moment with a loud crash, applause breaking out around the waitress as she cussed her clumsiness, the sound intruding just enough to pull Nim back from forgetting where they were.

There was his smile once again, the corners of her eyes crinkling with tender laughter as her thumb swept fondly over his lips. "Love you," she whispered to him, as though there was no one else around, no one else to see the adoring devotion that animated every part of her face as she reminded him yet again of her feelings. She was never going to get tired of saying it.

Dean's smile went all the way to his eyes, warm and affectionate, his heart nearly bursting with love and adoration for the lovely young woman before him. She held his heart in her hands, fragile as it was, easily broken, slowly mending in her tender care. He smiled down at her, opening his heart to her, offering to her completely, without reservation. He didn't return the declaration of love, but his eyes expressed all he was feeling without saying those three little words.

One arm slipped around her waist as she turned herself toward him, looking down from his height into the soft brown depths of her eyes, as if by doing so, he was able to see into the very depths of her soul. There was a faint smile on his face, wistful, melancholy, his heart afraid of those very same things. "If this is dream, I don't want to wake up."

"Don't, then," she whispered back, caught up all over again in the tender caress of his gaze on hers. The moonlight was reflected in the darkness of her eyes, illuminating the unquestioning devotion that radiated from her as her fingertips gently stroked up and down the line of his jaw. "Make sweet dreams with me."

His smile fell away as the moment turned serious, and he felt an old familiar twinge of pain in the middle of his chest. Despite everything, that old fear was creeping back in, the fear that he'd love her and lose her. "Nim..." he started, unsure what to say, wanting to promise her the world, but afraid he'd only end up hurting her in the end. Should he tell her how terrified he was" He was Dean Winchester. He wasn't supposed to be afraid of anything, but only a fool fears nothing. "I..." He faltered, unsure what to say, wanting to tell her he'd do anything she asked, but fear making him hesitate.

The darkness had crept back into his expression, the fear they had only begun to explore together in the moments before Dione had decided they needed to be distracted from everything in the privacy of their motel room. "Shhh ..." She rose up again, drawing him down until his forehead rested against hers, dark eyes burning into hazel green tenderly. "We don't have to have all the answers right now," she reminded him softly. "I promise you, I'm not letting go. Not without a fight. And I swear, I'll take bits of Dione with me if she has anything to do with it."

He looked into those dark eyes of hers, seeing as if for the very first time the determination there, the love and devotion, the promise to never leave him, even if it wasn't said in so many words - a promise no one had ever made before, not even Sam. He felt his throat tighten, emotions running deep, and he drew a soft breath, so close her own breath mingled with his. "I'm not losing you. Not again. I swear."

Her arms wrapped close about his waist, her body leaning into his as he made his own promise to her. Though the words were different, they had shared a promise now that bound them as tightly as everything else they had shared in the past weeks. But there was one thing that needed to be said, the lesson learned from the stories Brian had told her of this world's Dean and his history. "No deals," she said quietly, fervently. "Not with demons or angels or gods. It isn't worth it, not in the end."

He wasn't really surprised by what she said, knowing Brian must have told her at least something of history, though he was unsure how much of his life here mirrored his life back home. He searched her eyes, looking for some reassurance that she wasn't only adamant about his own promise to make no deals, but had no intentions of doing so herself. "I won't if you don't," he countered, wanting to hold her to the same promise, the same terms, the same understanding. He had no intention of performing an encore performance in hell.

"I won't." She didn't consider that promise before it was made. Too many people made deals, and not one of them had ever turned out for the best in the long run. They caused more pain than they had ever assuaged. And yet, would she really be able to let go of him so easily' Her fingers tightened on his back as they leaned together, wrapped up in their own world, alone and surrounded by the people moving back and forth on the sidewalk around them.

"Promise me," he told her quietly, pressing to make her say the words, to promise him she'd never sacrifice herself for him ever again. "If anything ever happens to me, promise you'll just let me go." His gaze never wavered, green eyes meeting brown, unflinching, holding her gaze. While the rest of the world went about their business, they were caught in a moment of truth, a moment that was being witnessed by more than just the two of them, but by those who both allies and enemies, by those who might try to tip the balance toward good or evil, testing their resolve, their loyalty, their devotion to each other.

She was aware that more rested on this moment than simply their own peace of mind, that the ears that heard them might well try to make use of such knowledge to force them both aside amid the tide of evil that seemed to be sweeping the world. Her hands smoothed to his hips, clenching there as she fought to keep herself calm in that moment. "I can only make that promise if you'll make it with me," she heard herself say firmly. "If you can swear to me that no matter how it happens, if I go first, you'll let me." Her own gaze still burned into his, refusing to give up that promise until he swore to make the same promise and abide by it.

"I'll be right behind you," he told her, echoing something he'd told her when he'd lost her once before. He'd lost everyone he'd ever loved at one time or another, starting with his mother and ending with Sam, and he wasn't sure he could do it again. He wasn't sure how they'd circled back to this, but it was something that needed to be settled between them, once and for all. Promise or no promise, he couldn't help what he was feeling. Her death had nearly destroyed him once, and he wasn't sure he could survive it again.

"I don't want to live without you," he told her quietly, knowing more than most that death was the one certainty in life. He was one of the few who'd met Death personally. Death had told him he couldn't keep cheating him forever. He knew one day he'd have to let a Reaper have his soul, but he'd hoped that day was not for a long time to come.

She held his gaze, hearing as much of what he wasn't saying as the words that did make it from his lips. She couldn't know for certain just why this meant so much to him, but neither could she deny the scorching truth in him as he offered up his insistence. "If ....when ....it happens," she heard herself murmur, as fervent as he with seeming less reason to be, "I won't be far behind you, either. I don't think I can let go, Dean. But I'd rather follow you than bargain for you to come back to me."

He knew better than to try and talk her out of it, to try and change her mind, to tell her to go on without him, when he had told her that he didn't want to go on without her. There was no point in forcing that promise out of her. He had gone on after she'd died because he'd had to, because he'd promised her he would, but now, everything had changed. Their souls had become linked, either by choice or by destiny; it no longer mattered which. He tipped her chin toward him, holding her gaze. "I'll wait for you," he promised at last, pledging his soul to her, as well as his heart and sealing that pledge with a kiss.

"Good." She didn't argue that he might not be able to wait, that they might not end up in the same place. Those were concerns that they would hopefully never have to touch upon. As he sealed his promise with a kiss that burned deep into her soul, Nim knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, regardless of anything that could and would happen either of them in the months and years to come, that she was never going to let him suffer through losing her again, be it by her death or his. Somehow, one way or another, they would be together, whether it was in this life or what came after.

((See" Dione isn't all bad - they got a decent night off! Thanks to Dean's player for this scene, loads of fun as usual!))