Sam had been staring at the laptop screen for ages now.

He and Dean were looking for evidence and clues on a mysterious hunt. There was a demon out there, responsible for the murder of many people, but they just couldn't seem to find it.

Sam knew you were the only one who could help. You had experience, you had knowledge: you were perfect for this case. But of course, Dean was quick to start an argument, opposing to that idea.

After all, you were a demon. And Dean had all the right to affirm that all demons should be wiped out. And Sam's heart clenched every single time those words left his brother's mouth. He lost count of how many times he told him that you were different, that you had good intentions.

But Dean didn't allow himself to believe that. And honestly? Sam couldn't blame him for that.

But God. Dean wouldn't understand. He would never understand if Sam told him that not only you were good, but that he wanted you in every possible way.

You were terrifying, and mesmerizing at the same time. Beautiful. Lethal. Perfect. And he hated himself for thinking that way—he knew how wrong it was. And he knew he had to push his lust aside to focus on this hunt.

He wouldn't fall for your temptations. He was confident in that.

So being the stubborn guy he was, he summoned you either way, as soon as Dean left their motel room to interview witnesses who could contribute for the solving of the case.

"You know I can see you staring at me, right?" Sam said in a closed tone, taking his eyes off the screen to look at you, across the room. "Are you going to say something or stare at me all night long?"